summaryrefslogtreecommitdiff
path: root/20102-h/20102-h.html
blob: 1079bf84f59d7a70e731a4d3358ba6ac494850a2 (plain) 
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420
421
422
423
424
425
426
427
428
429
430
431
432
433
434
435
436
437
438
439
440
441
442
443
444
445
446
447
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476
477
478
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503
504
505
506
507
508
509
510
511
512
513
514
515
516
517
518
519
520
521
522
523
524
525
526
527
528
529
530
531
532
533
534
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559
560
561
562
563
564
565
566
567
568
569
570
571
572
573
574
575
576
577
578
579
580
581
582
583
584
585
586
587
588
589
590
591
592
593
594
595
596
597
598
599
600
601
602
603
604
605
606
607
608
609
610
611
612
613
614
615
616
617
618
619
620
621
622
623
624
625
626
627
628
629
630
631
632
633
634
635
636
637
638
639
640
641
642
643
644
645
646
647
648
649
650
651
652
653
654
655
656
657
658
659
660
661
662
663
664
665
666
667
668
669
670
671
672
673
674
675
676
677
678
679
680
681
682
683
684
685
686
687
688
689
690
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715
716
717
718
719
720
721
722
723
724
725
726
727
728
729
730
731
732
733
734
735
736
737
738
739
740
741
742
743
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804
805
806
807
808
809
810
811
812
813
814
815
816
817
818
819
820
821
822
823
824
825
826
827
828
829
830
831
832
833
834
835
836
837
838
839
840
841
842
843
844
845
846
847
848
849
850
851
852
853
854
855
856
857
858
859
860
861
862
863
864
865
866
867
868
869
870
871
872
873
874
875
876
877
878
879
880
881
882
883
884
885
886
887
888
889
890
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915
916
917
918
919
920
921
922
923
924
925
926
927
928
929
930
931
932
933
934
935
936
937
938
939
940
941
942
943
944
945
946
947
948
949
950
951
952
953
954
955
956
957
958
959
960
961
962
963
964
965
966
967
968
969
970
971
972
973
974
975
976
977
978
979
980
981
982
983
984
985
986
987
988
989
990
991
992
993
994
995
996
997
998
999
1000
1001
1002
1003
1004
1005
1006
1007
1008
1009
1010
1011
1012
1013
1014
1015
1016
1017
1018
1019
1020
1021
1022
1023
1024
1025
1026
1027
1028
1029
1030
1031
1032
1033
1034
1035
1036
1037
1038
1039
1040
1041
1042
1043
1044
1045
1046
1047
1048
1049
1050
1051
1052
1053
1054
1055
1056
1057
1058
1059
1060
1061
1062
1063
1064
1065
1066
1067
1068
1069
1070
1071
1072
1073
1074
1075
1076
1077
1078
1079
1080
1081
1082
1083
1084
1085
1086
1087
1088
1089
1090
1091
1092
1093
1094
1095
1096
1097
1098
1099
1100
1101
1102
1103
1104
1105
1106
1107
1108
1109
1110
1111
1112
1113
1114
1115
1116
1117
1118
1119
1120
1121
1122
1123
1124
1125
1126
1127
1128
1129
1130
1131
1132
1133
1134
1135
1136
1137
1138
1139
1140
1141
1142
1143
1144
1145
1146
1147
1148
1149
1150
1151
1152
1153
1154
1155
1156
1157
1158
1159
1160
1161
1162
1163
1164
1165
1166
1167
1168
1169
1170
1171
1172
1173
1174
1175
1176
1177
1178
1179
1180
1181
1182
1183
1184
1185
1186
1187
1188
1189
1190
1191
1192
1193
1194
1195
1196
1197
1198
1199
1200
1201
1202
1203
1204
1205
1206
1207
1208
1209
1210
1211
1212
1213
1214
1215
1216
1217
1218
1219
1220
1221
1222
1223
1224
1225
1226
1227
1228
1229
1230
1231
1232
1233
1234
1235
1236
1237
1238
1239
1240
1241
1242
1243
1244
1245
1246
1247
1248
1249
1250
1251
1252
1253
1254
1255
1256
1257
1258
1259
1260
1261
1262
1263
1264
1265
1266
1267
1268
1269
1270
1271
1272
1273
1274
1275
1276
1277
1278
1279
1280
1281
1282
1283
1284
1285
1286
1287
1288
1289
1290
1291
1292
1293
1294
1295
1296
1297
1298
1299
1300
1301
1302
1303
1304
1305
1306
1307
1308
1309
1310
1311
1312
1313
1314
1315
1316
1317
1318
1319
1320
1321
1322
1323
1324
1325
1326
1327
1328
1329
1330
1331
1332
1333
1334
1335
1336
1337
1338
1339
1340
1341
1342
1343
1344
1345
1346
1347
1348
1349
1350
1351
1352
1353
1354
1355
1356
1357
1358
1359
1360
1361
1362
1363
1364
1365
1366
1367
1368
1369
1370
1371
1372
1373
1374
1375
1376
1377
1378
1379
1380
1381
1382
1383
1384
1385
1386
1387
1388
1389
1390
1391
1392
1393
1394
1395
1396
1397
1398
1399
1400
1401
1402
1403
1404
1405
1406
1407
1408
1409
1410
1411
1412
1413
1414
1415
1416
1417
1418
1419
1420
1421
1422
1423
1424
1425
1426
1427
1428
1429
1430
1431
1432
1433
1434
1435
1436
1437
1438
1439
1440
1441
1442
1443
1444
1445
1446
1447
1448
1449
1450
1451
1452
1453
1454
1455
1456
1457
1458
1459
1460
1461
1462
1463
1464
1465
1466
1467
1468
1469
1470
1471
1472
1473
1474
1475
1476
1477
1478
1479
1480
1481
1482
1483
1484
1485
1486
1487
1488
1489
1490
1491
1492
1493
1494
1495
1496
1497
1498
1499
1500
1501
1502
1503
1504
1505
1506
1507
1508
1509
1510
1511
1512
1513
1514
1515
1516
1517
1518
1519
1520
1521
1522
1523
1524
1525
1526
1527
1528
1529
1530
1531
1532
1533
1534
1535
1536
1537
1538
1539
1540
1541
1542
1543
1544
1545
1546
1547
1548
1549
1550
1551
1552
1553
1554
1555
1556
1557
1558
1559
1560
1561
1562
1563
1564
1565
1566
1567
1568
1569
1570
1571
1572
1573
1574
1575
1576
1577
1578
1579
1580
1581
1582
1583
1584
1585
1586
1587
1588
1589
1590
1591
1592
1593
1594
1595
1596
1597
1598
1599
1600
1601
1602
1603
1604
1605
1606
1607
1608
1609
1610
1611
1612
1613
1614
1615
1616
1617
1618
1619
1620
1621
1622
1623
1624
1625
1626
1627
1628
1629
1630
1631
1632
1633
1634
1635
1636
1637
1638
1639
1640
1641
1642
1643
1644
1645
1646
1647
1648
1649
1650
1651
1652
1653
1654
1655
1656
1657
1658
1659
1660
1661
1662
1663
1664
1665
1666
1667
1668
1669
1670
1671
1672
1673
1674
1675
1676
1677
1678
1679
1680
1681
1682
1683
1684
1685
1686
1687
1688
1689
1690
1691
1692
1693
1694
1695
1696
1697
1698
1699
1700
1701
1702
1703
1704
1705
1706
1707
1708
1709
1710
1711
1712
1713
1714
1715
1716
1717
1718
1719
1720
1721
1722
1723
1724
1725
1726
1727
1728
1729
1730
1731
1732
1733
1734
1735
1736
1737
1738
1739
1740
1741
1742
1743
1744
1745
1746
1747
1748
1749
1750
1751
1752
1753
1754
1755
1756
1757
1758
1759
1760
1761
1762
1763
1764
1765
1766
1767
1768
1769
1770
1771
1772
1773
1774
1775
1776
1777
1778
1779
1780
1781
1782
1783
1784
1785
1786
1787
1788
1789
1790
1791
1792
1793
1794
1795
1796
1797
1798
1799
1800
1801
1802
1803
1804
1805
1806
1807
1808
1809
1810
1811
1812
1813
1814
1815
1816
1817
1818
1819
1820
1821
1822
1823
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
1840
1841
1842
1843
1844
1845
1846
1847
1848
1849
1850
1851
1852
1853
1854
1855
1856
1857
1858
1859
1860
1861
1862
1863
1864
1865
1866
1867
1868
1869
1870
1871
1872
1873
1874
1875
1876
1877
1878
1879
1880
1881
1882
1883
1884
1885
1886
1887
1888
1889
1890
1891
1892
1893
1894
1895
1896
1897
1898
1899
1900
1901
1902
1903
1904
1905
1906
1907
1908
1909
1910
1911
1912
1913
1914
1915
1916
1917
1918
1919
1920
1921
1922
1923
1924
1925
1926
1927
1928
1929
1930
1931
1932
1933
1934
1935
1936
1937
1938
1939
1940
1941
1942
1943
1944
1945
1946
1947
1948
1949
1950
1951
1952
1953
1954
1955
1956
1957
1958
1959
1960
1961
1962
1963
1964
1965
1966
1967
1968
1969
1970
1971
1972
1973
1974
1975
1976
1977
1978
1979
1980
1981
1982
1983
1984
1985
1986
1987
1988
1989
1990
1991
1992
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
1998
1999
2000
2001
2002
2003
2004
2005
2006
2007
2008
2009
2010
2011
2012
2013
2014
2015
2016
2017
2018
2019
2020
2021
2022
2023
2024
2025
2026
2027
2028
2029
2030
2031
2032
2033
2034
2035
2036
2037
2038
2039
2040
2041
2042
2043
2044
2045
2046
2047
2048
2049
2050
2051
2052
2053
2054
2055
2056
2057
2058
2059
2060
2061
2062
2063
2064
2065
2066
2067
2068
2069
2070
2071
2072
2073
2074
2075
2076
2077
2078
2079
2080
2081
2082
2083
2084
2085
2086
2087
2088
2089
2090
2091
2092
2093
2094
2095
2096
2097
2098
2099
2100
2101
2102
2103
2104
2105
2106
2107
2108
2109
2110
2111
2112
2113
2114
2115
2116
2117
2118
2119
2120
2121
2122
2123
2124
2125
2126
2127
2128
2129
2130
2131
2132
2133
2134
2135
2136
2137
2138
2139
2140
2141
2142
2143
2144
2145
2146
2147
2148
2149
2150
2151
2152
2153
2154
2155
2156
2157
2158
2159
2160
2161
2162
2163
2164
2165
2166
2167
2168
2169
2170
2171
2172
2173
2174
2175
2176
2177
2178
2179
2180
2181
2182
2183
2184
2185
2186
2187
2188
2189
2190
2191
2192
2193
2194
2195
2196
2197
2198
2199
2200
2201
2202
2203
2204
2205
2206
2207
2208
2209
2210
2211
2212
2213
2214
2215
2216
2217
2218
2219
2220
2221
2222
2223
2224
2225
2226
2227
2228
2229
2230
2231
2232
2233
2234
2235
2236
2237
2238
2239
2240
2241
2242
2243
2244
2245
2246
2247
2248
2249
2250
2251
2252
2253
2254
2255
2256
2257
2258
2259
2260
2261
2262
2263
2264
2265
2266
2267
2268
2269
2270
2271
2272
2273
2274
2275
2276
2277
2278
2279
2280
2281
2282
2283
2284
2285
2286
2287
2288
2289
2290
2291
2292
2293
2294
2295
2296
2297
2298
2299
2300
2301
2302
2303
2304
2305
2306
2307
2308
2309
2310
2311
2312
2313
2314
2315
2316
2317
2318
2319
2320
2321
2322
2323
2324
2325
2326
2327
2328
2329
2330
2331
2332
2333
2334
2335
2336
2337
2338
2339
2340
2341
2342
2343
2344
2345
2346
2347
2348
2349
2350
2351
2352
2353
2354
2355
2356
2357
2358
2359
2360
2361
2362
2363
2364
2365
2366
2367
2368
2369
2370
2371
2372
2373
2374
2375
2376
2377
2378
2379
2380
2381
2382
2383
2384
2385
2386
2387
2388
2389
2390
2391
2392
2393
2394
2395
2396
2397
2398
2399
2400
2401
2402
2403
2404
2405
2406
2407
2408
2409
2410
2411
2412
2413
2414
2415
2416
2417
2418
2419
2420
2421
2422
2423
2424
2425
2426
2427
2428
2429
2430
2431
2432
2433
2434
2435
2436
2437
2438
2439
2440
2441
2442
2443
2444
2445
2446
2447
2448
2449
2450
2451
2452
2453
2454
2455
2456
2457
2458
2459
2460
2461
2462
2463
2464
2465
2466
2467
2468
2469
2470
2471
2472
2473
2474
2475
2476
2477
2478
2479
2480
2481
2482
2483
2484
2485
2486
2487
2488
2489
2490
2491
2492
2493
2494
2495
2496
2497
2498
2499
2500
2501
2502
2503
2504
2505
2506
2507
2508
2509
2510
2511
2512
2513
2514
2515
2516
2517
2518
2519
2520
2521
2522
2523
2524
2525
2526
2527
2528
2529
2530
2531
2532
2533
2534
2535
2536
2537
2538
2539
2540
2541
2542
2543
2544
2545
2546
2547
2548
2549
2550
2551
2552
2553
2554
2555
2556
2557
2558
2559
2560
2561
2562
2563
2564
2565
2566
2567
2568
2569
2570
2571
2572
2573
2574
2575
2576
2577
2578
2579
2580
2581
2582
2583
2584
2585
2586
2587
2588
2589
2590
2591
2592
2593
2594
2595
2596
2597
2598
2599
2600
2601
2602
2603
2604
2605
2606
2607
2608
2609
2610
2611
2612
2613
2614
2615
2616
2617
2618
2619
2620
2621
2622
2623
2624
2625
2626
2627
2628
2629
2630
2631
2632
2633
2634
2635
2636
2637
2638
2639
2640
2641
2642
2643
2644
2645
2646
2647
2648
2649
2650
2651
2652
2653
2654
2655
2656
2657
2658
2659
2660
2661
2662
2663
2664
2665
2666
2667
2668
2669
2670
2671
2672
2673
2674
2675
2676
2677
2678
2679
2680
2681
2682
2683
2684
2685
2686
2687
2688
2689
2690
2691
2692
2693
2694
2695
2696
2697
2698
2699
2700
2701
2702
2703
2704
2705
2706
2707
2708
2709
2710
2711
2712
2713
2714
2715
2716
2717
2718
2719
2720
2721
2722
2723
2724
2725
2726
2727
2728
2729
2730
2731
2732
2733
2734
2735
2736
2737
2738
2739
2740
2741
2742
2743
2744
2745
2746
2747
2748
2749
2750
2751
2752
2753
2754
2755
2756
2757
2758
2759
2760
2761
2762
2763
2764
2765
2766
2767
2768
2769
2770
2771
2772
2773
2774
2775
2776
2777
2778
2779
2780
2781
2782
2783
2784
2785
2786
2787
2788
2789
2790
2791
2792
2793
2794
2795
2796
2797
2798
2799
2800
2801
2802
2803
2804
2805
2806
2807
2808
2809
2810
2811
2812
2813
2814
2815
2816
2817
2818
2819
2820
2821
2822
2823
2824
2825
2826
2827
2828
2829
2830
2831
2832
2833
2834
2835
2836
2837
2838
2839
2840
2841
2842
2843
2844
2845
2846
2847
2848
2849
2850
2851
2852
2853
2854
2855
2856
2857
2858
2859
2860
2861
2862
2863
2864
2865
2866
2867
2868
2869
2870
2871
2872
2873
2874
2875
2876
2877
2878
2879
2880
2881
2882
2883
2884
2885
2886
2887
2888
2889
2890
2891
2892
2893
2894
2895
2896
2897
2898
2899
2900
2901
2902
2903
2904
2905
2906
2907
2908
2909
2910
2911
2912
2913
2914
2915
2916
2917
2918
2919
2920
2921
2922
2923
2924
2925
2926
2927
2928
2929
2930
2931
2932
2933
2934
2935
2936
2937
2938
2939
2940
2941
2942
2943
2944
2945
2946
2947
2948
2949
2950
2951
2952
2953
2954
2955
2956
2957
2958
2959
2960
2961
2962
2963
2964
2965
2966
2967
2968
2969
2970
2971
2972
2973
2974
2975
2976
2977
2978
2979
2980
2981
2982
2983
2984
2985
2986
2987
2988
2989
2990
2991
2992
2993
2994
2995
2996
2997
2998
2999
3000
3001
3002
3003
3004
3005
3006
3007
3008
3009
3010
3011
3012
3013
3014
3015
3016
3017
3018
3019
3020
3021
3022
3023
3024
3025
3026
3027
3028
3029
3030
3031
3032
3033
3034
3035
3036
3037
3038
3039
3040
3041
3042
3043
3044
3045
3046
3047
3048
3049
3050
3051
3052
3053
3054
3055
3056
3057
3058
3059
3060
3061
3062
3063
3064
3065
3066
3067
3068
3069
3070
3071
3072
3073
3074
3075
3076
3077
3078
3079
3080
3081
3082
3083
3084
3085
3086
3087
3088
3089
3090
3091
3092
3093
3094
3095
3096
3097
3098
3099
3100
3101
3102
3103
3104
3105
3106
3107
3108
3109
3110
3111
3112
3113
3114
3115
3116
3117
3118
3119
3120
3121
3122
3123
3124
3125
3126
3127
3128
3129
3130
3131
3132
3133
3134
3135
3136
3137
3138
3139
3140
3141
3142
3143
3144
3145
3146
3147
3148
3149
3150
3151
3152
3153
3154
3155
3156
3157
3158
3159
3160
3161
3162
3163
3164
3165
3166
3167
3168
3169
3170
3171
3172
3173
3174
3175
3176
3177
3178
3179
3180
3181
3182
3183
3184
3185
3186
3187
3188
3189
3190
3191
3192
3193
3194
3195
3196
3197
3198
3199
3200
3201
3202
3203
3204
3205
3206
3207
3208
3209
3210
3211
3212
3213
3214
3215
3216
3217
3218
3219
3220
3221
3222
3223
3224
3225
3226
3227
3228
3229
3230
3231
3232
3233
3234
3235
3236
3237
3238
3239
3240
3241
3242
3243
3244
3245
3246
3247
3248
3249
3250
3251
3252
3253
3254
3255
3256
3257
3258
3259
3260
3261
3262
3263
3264
3265
3266
3267
3268
3269
3270
3271
3272
3273
3274
3275
3276
3277
3278
3279
3280
3281
3282
3283
3284
3285
3286
3287
3288
3289
3290
3291
3292
3293
3294
3295
3296
3297
3298
3299
3300
3301
3302
3303
3304
3305
3306
3307
3308
3309
3310
3311
3312
3313
3314
3315
3316
3317
3318
3319
3320
3321
3322
3323
3324
3325
3326
3327
3328
3329
3330
3331
3332
3333
3334
3335
3336
3337
3338
3339
3340
3341
3342
3343
3344
3345
3346
3347
3348
3349
3350
3351
3352
3353
3354
3355
3356
3357
3358
3359
3360
3361
3362
3363
3364
3365
3366
3367
3368
3369
3370
3371
3372
3373
3374
3375
3376
3377
3378
3379
3380
3381
3382
3383
3384
3385
3386
3387
3388
3389
3390
3391
3392
3393
3394
3395
3396
3397
3398
3399
3400
3401
3402
3403
3404
3405
3406
3407
3408
3409
3410
3411
3412
3413
3414
3415
3416
3417
3418
3419
3420
3421
3422
3423
3424
3425
3426
3427
3428
3429
3430
3431
3432
3433
3434
3435
3436
3437
3438
3439
3440
3441
3442
3443
3444
3445
3446
3447
3448
3449
3450
3451
3452
3453
3454
3455
3456
3457
3458
3459
3460
3461
3462
3463
3464
3465
3466
3467
3468
3469
3470
3471
3472
3473
3474
3475
3476
3477
3478
3479
3480
3481
3482
3483
3484
3485
3486
3487
3488
3489
3490
3491
3492
3493
3494
3495
3496
3497
3498
3499
3500
3501
3502
3503
3504
3505
3506
3507
3508
3509
3510
3511
3512
3513
3514
3515
3516
3517
3518
3519
3520
3521
3522
3523
3524
3525
3526
3527
3528
3529
3530
3531
3532
3533
3534
3535
3536
3537
3538
3539
3540
3541
3542
3543
3544
3545
3546
3547
3548
3549
3550
3551
3552
3553
3554
3555
3556
3557
3558
3559
3560
3561
3562
3563
3564
3565
3566
3567
3568
3569
3570
3571
3572
3573
3574
3575
3576
3577
3578
3579
3580
3581
3582
3583
3584
3585
3586
3587
3588
3589
3590
3591
3592
3593
3594
3595
3596
3597
3598
3599
3600
3601
3602
3603
3604
3605
3606
3607
3608
3609
3610
3611
3612
3613
3614
3615
3616
3617
3618
3619
3620
3621
3622
3623
3624
3625
3626
3627
3628
3629
3630
3631
3632
3633
3634
3635
3636
3637
3638
3639
3640
3641
3642
3643
3644
3645
3646
3647
3648
3649
3650
3651
3652
3653
3654
3655
3656
3657
3658
3659
3660
3661
3662
3663
3664
3665
3666
3667
3668
3669
3670
3671
3672
3673
3674
3675
3676
3677
3678
3679
3680
3681
3682
3683
3684
3685
3686
3687
3688
3689
3690
3691
3692
3693
3694
3695
3696
3697
3698
3699
3700
3701
3702
3703
3704
3705
3706
3707
3708
3709
3710
3711
3712
3713
3714
3715
3716
3717
3718
3719
3720
3721
3722
3723
3724
3725
3726
3727
3728
3729
3730
3731
3732
3733
3734
3735
3736
3737
3738
3739
3740
3741
3742
3743
3744
3745
3746
3747
3748
3749
3750
3751
3752
3753
3754
3755
3756
3757
3758
3759
3760
3761
3762
3763
3764
3765
3766
3767
3768
3769
3770
3771
3772
3773
3774
3775
3776
3777
3778
3779
3780
3781
3782
3783
3784
3785
3786
3787
3788
3789
3790
3791
3792
3793
3794
3795
3796
3797
3798
3799
3800
3801
3802
3803
3804
3805
3806
3807
3808
3809
3810
3811
3812
3813
3814
3815
3816
3817
3818
3819
3820
3821
3822
3823
3824
3825
3826
3827
3828
3829
3830
3831
3832
3833
3834
3835
3836
3837
3838
3839
3840
3841
3842
3843
3844
3845
3846
3847
3848
3849
3850
3851
3852
3853
3854
3855
3856
3857
3858
3859
3860
3861
3862
3863
3864
3865
3866
3867
3868
3869
3870
3871
3872
3873
3874
3875
3876
3877
3878
3879
3880
3881
3882
3883
3884
3885
3886
3887
3888
3889
3890
3891
3892
3893
3894
3895
3896
3897
3898
3899
3900
3901
3902
3903
3904
3905
3906
3907
3908
3909
3910
3911
3912
3913
3914
3915
3916
3917
3918
3919
3920
3921
3922
3923
3924
3925
3926
3927
3928
3929
3930
3931
3932
3933
3934
3935
3936
3937
3938
3939
3940
3941
3942
3943
3944
3945
3946
3947
3948
3949
3950
3951
3952
3953
3954
3955
3956
3957
3958
3959
3960
3961
3962
3963
3964
3965
3966
3967
3968
3969
3970
3971
3972
3973
3974
3975
3976
3977
3978
3979
3980
3981
3982
3983
3984
3985
3986
3987
3988
3989
3990
3991
3992
3993
3994
3995
3996
3997
3998
3999
4000
4001
4002
4003
4004
4005
4006
4007
4008
4009
4010
4011
4012
4013
4014
4015
4016
4017
4018
4019
4020
4021
4022
4023
4024
4025
4026
4027
4028
4029
4030
4031
4032
4033
4034
4035
4036
4037
4038
4039
4040
4041
4042
4043
4044
4045
4046
4047
4048
4049
4050
4051
4052
4053
4054
4055
4056
4057
4058
4059
4060
4061
4062
4063
4064
4065
4066
4067
4068
4069
4070
4071
4072
4073
4074
4075
4076
4077
4078
4079
4080
4081
4082
4083
4084
4085
4086
4087
4088
4089
4090
4091
4092
4093
4094
4095
4096
4097
4098
4099
4100
4101
4102
4103
4104
4105
4106
4107
4108
4109
4110
4111
4112
4113
4114
4115
4116
4117
4118
4119
4120
4121
4122
4123
4124
4125
4126
4127
4128
4129
4130
4131
4132
4133
4134
4135
4136
4137
4138
4139
4140
4141
4142
4143
4144
4145
4146
4147
4148
4149
4150
4151
4152
4153
4154
4155
4156
4157
4158
4159
4160
4161
4162
4163
4164
4165
4166
4167
4168
4169
4170
4171
4172
4173
4174
4175
4176
4177
4178
4179
4180
4181
4182
4183
4184
4185
4186
4187
4188
4189
4190
4191
4192
4193
4194
4195
4196
4197
4198
4199
4200
4201
4202
4203
4204
4205
4206
4207
4208
4209
4210
4211
4212
4213
4214
4215
4216
4217
4218
4219
4220
4221
4222
4223
4224
4225
4226
4227
4228
4229
4230
4231
4232
4233
4234
4235
4236
4237
4238
4239
4240
4241
4242
4243
4244
4245
4246
4247
4248
4249
4250
4251
4252
4253
4254
4255
4256
4257
4258
4259
4260
4261
4262
4263
4264
4265
4266
4267
4268
4269
4270
4271
4272
4273
4274
4275
4276
4277
4278
4279
4280
4281
4282
4283
4284
4285
4286
4287
4288
4289
4290
4291
4292
4293
4294
4295
4296
4297
4298
4299
4300
4301
4302
4303
4304
4305
4306
4307
4308
4309
4310
4311
4312
4313
4314
4315
4316
4317
4318
4319
4320
4321
4322
4323
4324
4325
4326
4327
4328
4329
4330
4331
4332
4333
4334
4335
4336
4337
4338
4339
4340
4341
4342
4343
4344
4345
4346
4347
4348
4349
4350
4351
4352
4353
4354
4355
4356
4357
4358
4359
4360
4361
4362
4363
4364
4365
4366
4367
4368
4369
4370
4371
4372
4373
4374
4375
4376
4377
4378
4379
4380
4381
4382
4383
4384
4385
4386
4387
4388
4389
4390
4391
4392
4393
4394
4395
4396
4397
4398
4399
4400
4401
4402
4403
4404
4405
4406
4407
4408
4409
4410
4411
4412
4413
4414
4415
4416
4417
4418
4419
4420
4421
4422
4423
4424
4425
4426
4427
4428
4429
4430
4431
4432
4433
4434
4435
4436
4437
4438
4439
4440
4441
4442
4443
4444
4445
4446
4447
4448
4449
4450
4451
4452
4453
4454
4455
4456
4457
4458
4459
4460
4461
4462
4463
4464
4465
4466
4467
4468
4469
4470
4471
4472
4473
4474
4475
4476
4477
4478
4479
4480
4481
4482
4483
4484
4485
4486
4487
4488
4489
4490
4491
4492
4493
4494
4495
4496
4497
4498
4499
4500
4501
4502
4503
4504
4505
4506
4507
4508
4509
4510
4511
4512
4513
4514
4515
4516
4517
4518
4519
4520
4521
4522
4523
4524
4525
4526
4527
4528
4529
4530
4531
4532
4533
4534
4535
4536
4537
4538
4539
4540
4541
4542
4543
4544
4545
4546
4547
4548
4549
4550
4551
4552
4553
4554
4555
4556
4557
4558
4559
4560
4561
4562
4563
4564
4565
4566
4567
4568
4569
4570
4571
4572
4573
4574
4575
4576
4577
4578
4579
4580
4581
4582
4583
4584
4585
4586
4587
4588
4589
4590
4591
4592
4593
4594
4595
4596
4597
4598
4599
4600
4601
4602
4603
4604
4605
4606
4607
4608
4609
4610
4611
4612
4613
4614
4615
4616
4617
4618
4619
4620
4621
4622
4623
4624
4625
4626
4627
4628
4629
4630
4631
4632
4633
4634
4635
4636
4637
4638
4639
4640
4641
4642
4643
4644
4645
4646
4647
4648
4649
4650
4651
4652
4653
4654
4655
4656
4657
4658
4659
4660
4661
4662
4663
4664
4665
4666
4667
4668
4669
4670
4671
4672
4673
4674
4675
4676
4677
4678
4679
4680
4681
4682
4683
4684
4685
4686
4687
4688
4689
4690
4691
4692
4693
4694
4695
4696
4697
4698
4699
4700
4701
4702
4703
4704
4705
4706
4707
4708
4709
4710
4711
4712
4713
4714
4715
4716
4717
4718
4719
4720
4721
4722
4723
4724
4725
4726
4727
4728
4729
4730
4731
4732
4733
4734
4735
4736
4737
4738
4739
4740
4741
4742
4743
4744
4745
4746
4747
4748
4749
4750
4751
4752
4753
4754
4755
4756
4757
4758
4759
4760
4761
4762
4763
4764
4765
4766
4767
4768
4769
4770
4771
4772
4773
4774
4775
4776
4777
4778
4779
4780
4781
4782
4783
4784
4785
4786
4787
4788
4789
4790
4791
4792
4793
4794
4795
4796
4797
4798
4799
4800
4801
4802
4803
4804
4805
4806
4807
4808
4809
4810
4811
4812
4813
4814
4815
4816
4817
4818
4819
4820
4821
4822
4823
4824
4825
4826
4827
4828
4829
4830
4831
4832
4833
4834
4835
4836
4837
4838
4839
4840
4841
4842
4843
4844
4845
4846
4847
4848
4849
4850
4851
4852
4853
4854
4855
4856
4857
4858
4859
4860
4861
4862
4863
4864
4865
4866
4867
4868
4869
4870
4871
4872
4873
4874
4875
4876
4877
4878
4879
4880
4881
4882
4883
4884
4885
4886
4887
4888
4889
4890
4891
4892
4893
4894
4895
4896
4897
4898
4899
4900
4901
4902
4903
4904
4905
4906
4907
4908
4909
4910
4911
4912
4913
4914
4915
4916
4917
4918
4919
4920
4921
4922
4923
4924
4925
4926
4927
4928
4929
4930
4931
4932
4933
4934
4935
4936
4937
4938
4939
4940
4941
4942
4943
4944
4945
4946
4947
4948
4949
4950
4951
4952
4953
4954
4955
4956
4957
4958
4959
4960
4961
4962
4963
4964
4965
4966
4967
4968
4969
4970
4971
4972
4973
4974
4975
4976
4977
4978
4979
4980
4981
4982
4983
4984
4985
4986
4987
4988
4989
4990
4991
4992
4993
4994
4995
4996
4997
4998
4999
5000
5001
5002
5003
5004
5005
5006
5007
5008
5009
5010
5011
5012
5013
5014
5015
5016
5017
5018
5019
5020
5021
5022
5023
5024
5025
5026
5027
5028
5029
5030
5031
5032
5033
5034
5035
5036
5037
5038
5039
5040
5041
5042
5043
5044
5045
5046
5047
5048
5049
5050
5051
5052
5053
5054
5055
5056
5057
5058
5059
5060
5061
5062
5063
5064
5065
5066
5067
5068
5069
5070
5071
5072
5073
5074
5075
5076
5077
5078
5079
5080
5081
5082
5083
5084
5085
5086
5087
5088
5089
5090
5091
5092
5093
5094
5095
5096
5097
5098
5099
5100
5101
5102
5103
5104
5105
5106
5107
5108
5109
5110
5111
5112
5113
5114
5115
5116
5117
5118
5119
5120
5121
5122
5123
5124
5125
5126
5127
5128
5129
5130
5131
5132
5133
5134
5135
5136
5137
5138
5139
5140
5141
5142
5143
5144
5145
5146
5147
5148
5149
5150
5151
5152
5153
5154
5155
5156
5157
5158
5159
5160
5161
5162
5163
5164
5165
5166
5167
5168
5169
5170
5171
5172
5173
5174
5175
5176
5177
5178
5179
5180
5181
5182
5183
5184
5185
5186
5187
5188
5189
5190
5191
5192
5193
5194
5195
5196
5197
5198
5199
5200
5201
5202
5203
5204
5205
5206
5207
5208
5209
5210
5211
5212
5213
5214
5215
5216
5217
5218
5219
5220
5221
5222
5223
5224
5225
5226
5227
5228
5229
5230
5231
5232
5233
5234
5235
5236
5237
5238
5239
5240
5241
5242
5243
5244
5245
5246
5247
5248
5249
5250
5251
5252
5253
5254
5255
5256
5257
5258
5259
5260
5261
5262
5263
5264
5265
5266
5267
5268
5269
5270
5271
5272
5273
5274
5275
5276
5277
5278
5279
5280
5281
5282
5283
5284
5285
5286
5287
5288
5289
5290
5291
5292
5293
5294
5295
5296
5297
5298
5299
5300
5301
5302
5303
5304
5305
5306
5307
5308
5309
5310
5311
5312
5313
5314
5315
5316
5317
5318
5319
5320
5321
5322
5323
5324
5325
5326
5327
5328
5329
5330
5331
5332
5333
5334
5335
5336
5337
5338
5339
5340
5341
5342
5343
5344
5345
5346
5347
5348
5349
5350
5351
5352
5353
5354
5355
5356
5357
5358
5359
5360
5361
5362
5363
5364
5365
5366
5367
5368
5369
5370
5371
5372
5373
5374
5375
5376
5377
5378
5379
5380
5381
5382
5383
5384
5385
5386
5387
5388
5389
5390
5391
5392
5393
5394
5395
5396
5397
5398
5399
5400
5401
5402
5403
5404
5405
5406
5407
5408
5409
5410
5411
5412
5413
5414
5415
5416
5417
5418
5419
5420
5421
5422
5423
5424
5425
5426
5427
5428
5429
5430
5431
5432
5433
5434
5435
5436
5437
5438
5439
5440
5441
5442
5443
5444
5445
5446
5447
5448
5449
5450
5451
5452
5453
5454
5455
5456
5457
5458
5459
5460
5461
5462
5463
5464
5465
5466
5467
5468
5469
5470
5471
5472
5473
5474
5475
5476
5477
5478
5479
5480
5481
5482
5483
5484
5485
5486
5487
5488
5489
5490
5491
5492
5493
5494
5495
5496
5497
5498
5499
5500
5501
5502
5503
5504
5505
5506
5507
5508
5509
5510
5511
5512
5513
5514
5515
5516
5517
5518
5519
5520
5521
5522
5523
5524
5525
5526
5527
5528
5529
5530
5531
5532
5533
5534
5535
5536
5537
5538
5539
5540
5541
5542
5543
5544
5545
5546
5547
5548
5549
5550
5551
5552
5553
5554
5555
5556
5557
5558
5559
5560
5561
5562
5563
5564
5565
5566
5567
5568
5569
5570
5571
5572
5573
5574
5575
5576
5577
5578
5579
5580
5581
5582
5583
5584
5585
5586
5587
5588
5589
5590
5591
5592
5593
5594
5595
5596
5597
5598
5599
5600
5601
5602
5603
5604
5605
5606
5607
5608
5609
5610
5611
5612
5613
5614
5615
5616
5617
5618
5619
5620
5621
5622
5623
5624
5625
5626
5627
5628
5629
5630
5631
5632
5633
5634
5635
5636
5637
5638
5639
5640
5641
5642
5643
5644
5645
5646
5647
5648
5649
5650
5651
5652
5653
5654
5655
5656
5657
5658
5659
5660
5661
5662
5663
5664
5665
5666
5667
5668
5669
5670
5671
5672
5673
5674
5675
5676
5677
5678
5679
5680
5681
5682
5683
5684
5685
5686
5687
5688
5689
5690
5691
5692
5693
5694
5695
5696
5697
5698
5699
5700
5701
5702
5703
5704
5705
5706
5707
5708
5709
5710
5711
5712
5713
5714
5715
5716
5717
5718
5719
5720
5721
5722
5723
5724
5725
5726
5727
5728
5729
5730
5731
5732
5733
5734
5735
5736
5737
5738
5739
5740
5741
5742
5743
5744
5745
5746
5747
5748
5749
5750
5751
5752
5753
5754
5755
5756
5757
5758
5759
5760
5761
5762
5763
5764
5765
5766
5767
5768
5769
5770
5771
5772
5773
5774
5775
5776
5777
5778
5779
5780
5781
5782
5783
5784
5785
5786
5787
5788
5789
5790
5791
5792
5793
5794
5795
5796
5797
5798
5799
5800
5801
5802
5803
5804
5805
5806
5807
5808
5809
5810
5811
5812
5813
5814
5815
5816
5817
5818
5819
5820
5821
5822
5823
5824
5825
5826
5827
5828
5829
5830
5831
5832
5833
5834
5835
5836
5837
5838
5839
5840
5841
5842
5843
5844
5845
5846
5847
5848
5849
5850
5851
5852
5853
5854
5855
5856
5857
5858
5859
5860
5861
5862
5863
5864
5865
5866
5867
5868
5869
5870
5871
5872
5873
5874
5875
5876
5877
5878
5879
5880
5881
5882
5883
5884
5885
5886
5887
5888
5889
5890
5891
5892
5893
5894
5895
5896
5897
5898
5899
5900
5901
5902
5903
5904
5905
5906
5907
5908
5909
5910
5911
5912
5913
5914
5915
5916
5917
5918
5919
5920
5921
5922
5923
5924
5925
5926
5927
5928
5929
5930
5931
5932
5933
5934
5935
5936
5937
5938
5939
5940
5941
5942
5943
5944
5945
5946
5947
5948
5949
5950
5951
5952
5953
5954
5955
5956
5957
5958
5959
5960
5961
5962
5963
5964
5965
5966
5967
5968
5969
5970
5971
5972
5973
5974
5975
5976
5977
5978
5979
5980
5981
5982
5983
5984
5985
5986
5987
5988
5989
5990
5991
5992
5993
5994
5995
5996
5997
5998
5999
6000
6001
6002
6003
6004
6005
6006
6007
6008
6009
6010
6011
6012
6013
6014
6015
6016
6017
6018
6019
6020
6021
6022
6023
6024
6025
6026
6027
6028
6029
6030
6031
6032
6033
6034
6035
6036
6037
6038
6039
6040
6041
6042
6043
6044
6045
6046
6047
6048
6049
6050
6051
6052
6053
6054
6055
6056
6057
6058
6059
6060
6061
6062
6063
6064
6065
6066
6067
6068
6069
6070
6071
6072
6073
6074
6075
6076
6077
6078
6079
6080
6081
6082
6083
6084
6085
6086
6087
6088
6089
6090
6091
6092
6093
6094
6095
6096
6097
6098
6099
6100
6101
6102
6103
6104
6105
6106
6107
6108
6109
6110
6111
6112
6113
6114
6115
6116
6117
6118
6119
6120
6121
6122
6123
6124
6125
6126
6127
6128
6129
6130
6131
6132
6133
6134
6135
6136
6137
6138
6139
6140
6141
6142
6143
6144
6145
6146
6147
6148
6149
6150
6151
6152
6153
6154
6155
6156
6157
6158
6159
6160
6161
6162
6163
6164
6165
6166
6167
6168
6169
6170
6171
6172
6173
6174
6175
6176
6177
6178
6179
6180
6181
6182
6183
6184
6185
6186
6187
6188
6189
6190
6191
6192
6193
6194
6195
6196
6197
6198
6199
6200
6201
6202
6203
6204
6205
6206
6207
6208
6209
6210
6211
6212
6213
6214
6215
6216
6217
6218
6219
6220
6221
6222
6223
6224
6225
6226
6227
6228
6229
6230
6231
6232
6233
6234
6235
6236
6237
6238
6239
6240
6241
6242
6243
6244
6245
6246
6247
6248
6249
6250
6251
6252
6253
6254
6255
6256
6257
6258
6259
6260
6261
6262
6263
6264
6265
6266
6267
6268
6269
6270
6271
6272
6273
6274
6275
6276
6277
6278
6279
6280
6281
6282
6283
6284
6285
6286
6287
6288
6289
6290
6291
6292
6293
6294
6295
6296
6297
6298
6299
6300
6301
6302
6303
6304
6305
6306
6307
6308
6309
6310
6311
6312
6313
6314
6315
6316
6317
6318
6319
6320
6321
6322
6323
6324
6325
6326
6327
6328
6329
6330
6331
6332
6333
6334
6335
6336
6337
6338
6339
6340
6341
6342
6343
6344
6345
6346
6347
6348
6349
6350
6351
6352
6353
6354
6355
6356
6357
6358
6359
6360
6361
6362
6363
6364
6365
6366
6367
6368
6369
6370
6371
6372
6373
6374
6375
6376
6377
6378
6379
6380
6381
6382
6383
6384
6385
6386
6387
6388
6389
6390
6391
6392
6393
6394
6395
6396
6397
6398
6399
6400
6401
6402
6403
6404
6405
6406
6407
6408
6409
6410
6411
6412
6413
6414
6415
6416
6417
6418
6419
6420
6421
6422
6423
6424
6425
6426
6427
6428
6429
6430
6431
6432
6433
6434
6435
6436
6437
6438
6439
6440
6441
6442
6443
6444
6445
6446
6447
6448
6449
6450
6451
6452
6453
6454
6455
6456
6457
6458
6459
6460
6461
6462
6463
6464
6465
6466
6467
6468
6469
6470
6471
6472
6473
6474
6475
6476
6477
6478
6479
6480
6481
6482
6483
6484
6485
6486
6487
6488
6489
6490
6491
6492
6493
6494
6495
6496
6497
6498
6499
6500
6501
6502
6503
6504
6505
6506
6507
6508
6509
6510
6511
6512
6513
6514
6515
6516
6517
6518
6519
6520
6521
6522
6523
6524
6525
6526
6527
6528
6529
6530
6531
6532
6533
6534
6535
6536
6537
6538
6539
6540
6541
6542
6543
6544
6545
6546
6547
6548
6549
6550
6551
6552
6553
6554
6555
6556
6557
6558
6559
6560
6561
6562
6563
6564
6565
6566
6567
6568
6569
6570
6571
6572
6573
6574
6575
6576
6577
6578
6579
6580
6581
6582
6583
6584
6585
6586
6587
6588
6589
6590
6591
6592
6593
6594
6595
6596
6597
6598
6599
6600
6601
6602
6603
6604
6605
6606
6607
6608
6609
6610
6611
6612
6613
6614
6615
6616
6617
6618
6619
6620
6621
6622
6623
6624
6625
6626
6627
6628
6629
6630
6631
6632
6633
6634
6635
6636
6637
6638
6639
6640
6641
6642
6643
6644
6645
6646
6647
6648
6649
6650
6651
6652
6653
6654
6655
6656
6657
6658
6659
6660
6661
6662
6663
6664
6665
6666
6667
6668
6669
6670
6671
6672
6673
6674
6675
6676
6677
6678
6679
6680
6681
6682
6683
6684
6685
6686
6687
6688
6689
6690
6691
6692
6693
6694
6695
6696
6697
6698
6699
6700
6701
6702
6703
6704
6705
6706
6707
6708
6709
6710
6711
6712
6713
6714
6715
6716
6717
6718
6719
6720
6721
6722
6723
6724
6725
6726
6727
6728
6729
6730
6731
6732
6733
6734
6735
6736
6737
6738
6739
6740
6741
6742
6743
6744
6745
6746
6747
6748
6749
6750
6751
6752
6753
6754
6755
6756
6757
6758
6759
6760
6761
6762
6763
6764
6765
6766
6767
6768
6769
6770
6771
6772
6773
6774
6775
6776
6777
6778
6779
6780
6781
6782
6783
6784
6785
6786
6787
6788
6789
6790
6791
6792
6793
6794
6795
6796
6797
6798
6799
6800
6801
6802
6803
6804
6805
6806
6807
6808
6809
6810
6811
6812
6813
6814
6815
6816
6817
6818
6819
6820
6821
6822
6823
6824
6825
6826
6827
6828
6829
6830
6831
6832
6833
6834
6835
6836
6837
6838
6839
6840
6841
6842
6843
6844
6845
6846
6847
6848
6849
6850
6851
6852
6853
6854
6855
6856
6857
6858
6859
6860
6861
6862
6863
6864
6865
6866
6867
6868
6869
6870
6871
6872
6873
6874
6875
6876
6877
6878
6879
6880
6881
6882
6883
6884
6885
6886
6887
6888
6889
6890
6891
6892
6893
6894
6895
6896
6897
6898
6899
6900
6901
6902
6903
6904
6905
6906
6907
6908
6909
6910
6911
6912
6913
6914
6915
6916
6917
6918
6919
6920
6921
6922
6923
6924
6925
6926
6927
6928
6929
6930
6931
6932
6933
6934
6935
6936
6937
6938
6939
6940
6941
6942
6943
6944
6945
6946
6947
6948
6949
6950
6951
6952
6953
6954
6955
6956
6957
6958
6959
6960
6961
6962
6963
6964
6965
6966
6967
6968
6969
6970
6971
6972
6973
6974
6975
6976
6977
6978
6979
6980
6981
6982
6983
6984
6985
6986
6987
6988
6989
6990
6991
6992
6993
6994
6995
6996
6997
6998
6999
7000
7001
7002
7003
7004
7005
7006
7007
7008
7009
7010
7011
7012
7013
7014
7015
7016
7017
7018
7019
7020
7021
7022
7023
7024
7025
7026
7027
7028
7029
7030
7031
7032
7033
7034
7035
7036
7037
7038
7039
7040
7041
7042
7043
7044
7045
7046
7047
7048
7049
7050
7051
7052
7053
7054
7055
7056
7057
7058
7059
7060
7061
7062
7063
7064
7065
7066
7067
7068
7069
7070
7071
7072
7073
7074
7075
7076
7077
7078
7079
7080
7081
7082
7083
7084
7085
7086
7087
7088
7089
7090
7091
7092
7093
7094
7095
7096
7097
7098
7099
7100
7101
7102
7103
7104
7105
7106
7107
7108
7109
7110
7111
7112
7113
7114
7115
7116
7117
7118
7119
7120
7121
7122
7123
7124
7125
7126
7127
7128
7129
7130
7131
7132
7133
7134
7135
7136
7137
7138
7139
7140
7141
7142
7143
7144
7145
7146
7147
7148
7149
7150
7151
7152
7153
7154
7155
7156
7157
7158
7159
7160
7161
7162
7163
7164
7165
7166
7167
7168
7169
7170
7171
7172
7173
7174
7175
7176
7177
7178
7179
7180
7181
7182
7183
7184
7185
7186
7187
7188
7189
7190
7191
7192
7193
7194
7195
7196
7197
7198
7199
7200
7201
7202
7203
7204
7205
7206
7207
7208
7209
7210
7211
7212
7213
7214
7215
7216
7217
7218
7219
7220
7221
7222
7223
7224
7225
7226
7227
7228
7229
7230
7231
7232
7233
7234
7235
7236
7237
7238
7239
7240
7241
7242
7243
7244
7245
7246
7247
7248
7249
7250
7251
7252
7253
7254
7255
7256
7257
7258
7259
7260
7261
7262
7263
7264
7265
7266
7267
7268
7269
7270
7271
7272
7273
7274
7275
7276
7277
7278
7279
7280
7281
7282
7283
7284
7285
7286
7287
7288
7289
7290
7291
7292
7293
7294
7295
7296
7297
7298
7299
7300
7301
7302
7303
7304
7305
7306
7307
7308
7309
7310
7311
7312
7313
7314
7315
7316
7317
7318
7319
7320
7321
7322
7323
7324
7325
7326
7327
7328
7329
7330
7331
7332
7333
7334
7335
7336
7337
7338
7339
7340
7341
7342
7343
7344
7345
7346
7347
7348
7349
7350
7351
7352
7353
7354
7355
7356
7357
7358
7359
7360
7361
7362
7363
7364
7365
7366
7367
7368
7369
7370
7371
7372
7373
7374
7375
7376
7377
7378
7379
7380
7381
7382
7383
7384
7385
7386
7387
7388
7389
7390
7391
7392
7393
7394
7395
7396
7397
7398
7399
7400
7401
7402
7403
7404
7405
7406
7407
7408
7409
7410
7411
7412
7413
7414
7415
7416
7417
7418
7419
7420
7421
7422
7423
7424
7425
7426
7427
7428
7429
7430
7431
7432
7433
7434
7435
7436
7437
7438
7439
7440
7441
7442
7443
7444
7445
7446
7447
7448
7449
7450
7451
7452
7453
7454
7455
7456
7457
7458
7459
7460
7461
7462
7463
7464
7465
7466
7467
7468
7469
7470
7471
7472
7473
7474
7475
7476
7477
7478
7479
7480
7481
7482
7483
7484
7485
7486
7487
7488
7489
7490
7491
7492
7493
7494
7495
7496
7497
7498
7499
7500
7501
7502
7503
7504
7505
7506
7507
7508
7509
7510
7511
7512
7513
7514
7515
7516
7517
7518
7519
7520
7521
7522
7523
7524
7525
7526
7527
7528
7529
7530
7531
7532
7533
7534
7535
7536
7537
7538
7539
7540
7541
7542
7543
7544
7545
7546
7547
7548
7549
7550
7551
7552
7553
7554
7555
7556
7557
7558
7559
7560
7561
7562
7563
7564
7565
7566
7567
7568
7569
7570
7571
7572
7573
7574
7575
7576
7577
7578
7579
7580
7581
7582
7583
7584
7585
7586
7587
7588
7589
7590
7591
7592
7593
7594
7595
7596
7597
7598
7599
7600
7601
7602
7603
7604
7605
7606
7607
7608
7609
7610
7611
7612
7613
7614
7615
7616
7617
7618
7619
7620
7621
7622
7623
7624
7625
7626
7627
7628
7629
7630
7631
7632
7633
7634
7635
7636
7637
7638
7639
7640
7641
7642
7643
7644
7645
7646
7647
7648
7649
7650
7651
7652
7653
7654
7655
7656
7657
7658
7659
7660
7661
7662
7663
7664
7665
7666
7667
7668
7669
7670
7671
7672
7673
7674
7675
7676
7677
7678
7679
7680
7681
7682
7683
7684
7685
7686
7687
7688
7689
7690
7691
7692
7693
7694
7695
7696
7697
7698
7699
7700
7701
7702
7703
7704
7705
7706
7707
7708
7709
7710
7711
7712
7713
7714
7715
7716
7717
7718
7719
7720
7721
7722
7723
7724
7725
7726
7727
7728
7729
7730
7731
7732
7733
7734
7735
7736
7737
7738
7739
7740
7741
7742
7743
7744
7745
7746
7747
7748
7749
7750
7751
7752
7753
7754
7755
7756
7757
7758
7759
7760
7761
7762
7763
7764
7765
7766
7767
7768
7769
7770
7771
7772
7773
7774
7775
7776
7777
7778
7779
7780
7781
7782
7783
7784
7785
7786
7787
7788
7789
7790
7791
7792
7793
7794
7795
7796
7797
7798
7799
7800
7801
7802
7803
7804
7805
7806
7807
7808
7809
7810
7811
7812
7813
7814
7815
7816
7817
7818
7819
7820
7821
7822
7823
7824
7825
7826
7827
7828
7829
7830
7831
7832
7833
7834
7835
7836
7837
7838
7839
7840
7841
7842
7843
7844
7845
7846
7847
7848
7849
7850
7851
7852
7853
7854
7855
7856
7857
7858
7859
7860
7861
7862
7863
7864
7865
7866
7867
7868
7869
7870
7871
7872
7873
7874
7875
7876
7877
7878
7879
7880
7881
7882
7883
7884
7885
7886
7887
7888
7889
7890
7891
7892
7893
7894
7895
7896
7897
7898
7899
7900
7901
7902
7903
7904
7905
7906
7907
7908
7909
7910
7911
7912
7913
7914
7915
7916
7917
7918
7919
7920
7921
7922
7923
7924
7925
7926
7927
7928
7929
7930
7931
7932
7933
7934
7935
7936
7937
7938
7939
7940
7941
7942
7943
7944
7945
7946
7947
7948
7949
7950
7951
7952
7953
7954
7955
7956
7957
7958
7959
7960
7961
7962
7963
7964
7965
7966
7967
7968
7969
7970
7971
7972
7973
7974
7975
7976
7977
7978
7979
7980
7981
7982
7983
7984
7985
7986
7987
7988
7989
7990
7991
7992
7993
7994
7995
7996
7997
7998
7999
8000
8001
8002
8003
8004
8005
8006
8007
8008
8009
8010
8011
8012
8013
8014
8015
8016
8017
8018
8019
8020
8021
8022
8023
8024
8025
8026
8027
8028
8029
8030
8031
8032
8033
8034
8035
8036
8037
8038
8039
8040
8041
8042
8043
8044
8045
8046
8047
8048
8049
8050
8051
8052
8053
8054
8055
8056
8057
8058
8059
8060
8061
8062
8063
8064
8065
8066
8067
8068
8069
8070
8071
8072
8073
8074
8075
8076
8077
8078
8079
8080
8081
8082
8083
8084
8085
8086
8087
8088
8089
8090
8091
8092
8093
8094
8095
8096
8097
8098
8099
8100
8101
8102
8103
8104
8105
8106
8107
8108
8109
8110
8111
8112
8113
8114
8115
8116
8117
8118
8119
8120
8121
8122
8123
8124
8125
8126
8127
8128
8129
8130
8131
8132
8133
8134
8135
8136
8137
8138
8139
8140
8141
8142
8143
8144
8145
8146
8147
8148
8149
8150
8151
8152
8153
8154
8155
8156
8157
8158
8159
8160
8161
8162
8163
8164
8165
8166
8167
8168
8169
8170
8171
8172
8173
8174
8175
8176
8177
8178
8179
8180
8181
8182
8183
8184
8185
8186
8187
8188
8189
8190
8191
8192
8193
8194
8195
8196
8197
8198
8199
8200
8201
8202
8203
8204
8205
8206
8207
8208
8209
8210
8211
8212
8213
8214
8215
8216
8217
8218
8219
8220
8221
8222
8223
8224
8225
8226
8227
8228
8229
8230
8231
8232
8233
8234
8235
8236
8237
8238
8239
8240
8241
8242
8243
8244
8245
8246
8247
8248
8249
8250
8251
8252
8253
8254
8255
8256
8257
8258
8259
8260
8261
8262
8263
8264
8265
8266
8267
8268
8269
8270
8271
8272
8273
8274
8275
8276
8277
8278
8279
8280
8281
8282
8283
8284
8285
8286
8287
8288
8289
8290
8291
8292
8293
8294
8295
8296
8297
8298
8299
8300
8301
8302
8303
8304
8305
8306
8307
8308
8309
8310
8311
8312
8313
8314
8315
8316
8317
8318
8319
8320
8321
8322
8323
8324
8325
8326
8327
8328
8329
8330
8331
8332
8333
8334
8335
8336
8337
8338
8339
8340
8341
8342
8343
8344
8345
8346
8347
8348
8349
8350
8351
8352
8353
8354
8355
8356
8357
8358
8359
8360
8361
8362
8363
8364
8365
8366
8367
8368
8369
8370
8371
8372
8373
8374
8375
8376
8377
8378
8379
8380
8381
8382
8383
8384
8385
8386
8387
8388
8389
8390
8391
8392
8393
8394
8395
8396
8397
8398
8399
8400
8401
8402
8403
8404
8405
8406
8407
8408
8409
8410
8411
8412
8413
8414
8415
8416
8417
8418
8419
8420
8421
8422
8423
8424
8425
8426
8427
8428
8429
8430
8431
8432
8433
8434
8435
8436
8437
8438
8439
8440
8441
8442
8443
8444
8445
8446
8447
8448
8449
8450
8451
8452
8453
8454
8455
8456
8457
8458
8459
8460
8461
8462
8463
8464
8465
8466
8467
8468
8469
8470
8471
8472
8473
8474
8475
8476
8477
8478
8479
8480
8481
8482
8483
8484
8485
8486
8487
8488
8489
8490
8491
8492
8493
8494
8495
8496
8497
8498
8499
8500
8501
8502
8503
8504
8505
8506
8507
8508
8509
8510
8511
8512
8513
8514
8515
8516
8517
8518
8519
8520
8521
8522
8523
8524
8525
8526
8527
8528
8529
8530
8531
8532
8533
8534
8535
8536
8537
8538
8539
8540
8541
8542
8543
8544
8545
8546
8547
8548
8549
8550
8551
8552
8553
8554
8555
8556
8557
8558
8559
8560
8561
8562
8563
8564
8565
8566
8567
8568
8569
8570
8571
8572
8573
8574
8575
8576
8577
8578
8579
8580
8581
8582
8583
8584
8585
8586
8587
8588
8589
8590
8591
8592
8593
8594
8595
8596
8597
8598
8599
8600
8601
8602
8603
8604
8605
8606
8607
8608
8609
8610
8611
8612
8613
8614
8615
8616
8617
8618
8619
8620
8621
8622
8623
8624
8625
8626
8627
8628
8629
8630
8631
8632
8633
8634
8635
8636
8637
8638
8639
8640
8641
8642
8643
8644
8645
8646
8647
8648
8649
8650
8651
8652
8653
8654
8655
8656
8657
8658
8659
8660
8661
8662
8663
8664
8665
8666
8667
8668
8669
8670
8671
8672
8673
8674
8675
8676
8677
8678
8679
8680
8681
8682
8683
8684
8685
8686
8687
8688
8689
8690
8691
8692
8693
8694
8695
8696
8697
8698
8699
8700
8701
8702
8703
8704
8705
8706
8707
8708
8709
8710
8711
8712
8713
8714
8715
8716
8717
8718
8719
8720
8721
8722
8723
8724
8725
8726
8727
8728
8729
8730
8731
8732
8733
8734
8735
8736
8737
8738
8739
8740
8741
8742
8743
8744
8745
8746
8747
8748
8749
8750
8751
8752
8753
8754
8755
8756
8757
8758
8759
8760
8761
8762
8763
8764
8765
8766
8767
8768
8769
8770
8771
8772
8773
8774
8775
8776
8777
8778
8779
8780
8781
8782
8783
8784
8785
8786
8787
8788
8789
8790
8791
8792
8793
8794
8795
8796
8797
8798
8799
8800
8801
8802
8803
8804
8805
8806
8807
8808
8809
8810
8811
8812
8813
8814
8815
8816
8817
8818
8819
8820
8821
8822
8823
8824
8825
8826
8827
8828
8829
8830
8831
8832
8833
8834
8835
8836
8837
8838
8839
8840
8841
8842
8843
8844
8845
8846
8847
8848
8849
8850
8851
8852
8853
8854
8855
8856
8857
8858
8859
8860
8861
8862
8863
8864
8865
8866
8867
8868
8869
8870
8871
8872
8873
8874
8875
8876
8877
8878
8879
8880
8881
8882
8883
8884
8885
8886
8887
8888
8889
8890
8891
8892
8893
8894
8895
8896
8897
8898
8899
8900
8901
8902
8903
8904
8905
8906
8907
8908
8909
8910
8911
8912
8913
8914
8915
8916
8917
8918
8919
8920
8921
8922
8923
8924
8925
8926
8927
8928
8929
8930
8931
8932
8933
8934
8935
8936
8937
8938
8939
8940
8941
8942
8943
8944
8945
8946
8947
8948
8949
8950
8951
8952
8953
8954
8955
8956
8957
8958
8959
8960
8961
8962
8963
8964
8965
8966
8967
8968
8969
8970
8971
8972
8973
8974
8975
8976
8977
8978
8979
8980
8981
8982
8983
8984
8985
8986
8987
8988
8989
8990
8991
8992
8993
8994
8995
8996
8997
8998
8999
9000
9001
9002
9003
9004
9005
9006
9007
9008
9009
9010
9011
9012
9013
9014
9015
9016
9017
9018
9019
9020
9021
9022
9023
9024
9025
9026
9027
9028
9029
9030
9031
9032
9033
9034
9035
9036
9037
9038
9039
9040
9041
9042
9043
9044
9045
9046
9047
9048
9049
9050
9051
9052
9053
9054
9055
9056
9057
9058
9059
9060
9061
9062
9063
9064
9065
9066
9067
9068
9069
9070
9071
9072
9073
9074
9075
9076
9077
9078
9079
9080
9081
9082
9083
9084
9085
9086
9087
9088
9089
9090
9091
9092
9093
9094
9095
9096
9097
9098
9099
9100
9101
9102
9103
9104
9105
9106
9107
9108
9109
9110
9111
9112
9113
9114
9115
9116
9117
9118
9119
9120
9121
9122
9123
9124
9125
9126
9127
9128
9129
9130
9131
9132
9133
9134
9135
9136
9137
9138
9139
9140
9141
9142
9143
9144
9145
9146
9147
9148
9149
9150
9151
9152
9153
9154
9155
9156
9157
9158
9159
9160
9161
9162
9163
9164
9165
9166
9167
9168
9169
9170
9171
9172
9173
9174
9175
9176
9177
9178
9179
9180
9181
9182
9183
9184
9185
9186
9187
9188
9189
9190
9191
9192
9193
9194
9195
9196
9197
9198
9199
9200
9201
9202
9203
9204
9205
9206
9207
9208
9209
9210
9211
9212
9213
9214
9215
9216
9217
9218
9219
9220
9221
9222
9223
9224
9225
9226
9227
9228
9229
9230
9231
9232
9233
9234
9235
9236
9237
9238
9239
9240
9241
9242
9243
9244
9245
9246
9247
9248
9249
9250
9251
9252
9253
9254
9255
9256
9257
9258
9259
9260
9261
9262
9263
9264
9265
9266
9267
9268
9269
9270
9271
9272
9273
9274
9275
9276
9277
9278
9279
9280
9281
9282
9283
9284
9285
9286
9287
9288
9289
9290
9291
9292
9293
9294
9295
9296
9297
9298
9299
9300
9301
9302
9303
9304
9305
9306
9307
9308
9309
9310
9311
9312
9313
9314
9315
9316
9317
9318
9319
9320
9321
9322
9323
9324
9325
9326
9327
9328
9329
9330
9331
9332
9333
9334
9335
9336
9337
9338
9339
9340
9341
9342
9343
9344
9345
9346
9347
9348
9349
9350
9351
9352
9353
9354
9355
9356
9357
9358
9359
9360
9361
9362
9363
9364
9365
9366
9367
9368
9369
9370
9371
9372
9373
9374
9375
9376
9377
9378
9379
9380
9381
9382
9383
9384
9385
9386
9387
9388
9389
9390
9391
9392
9393
9394
9395
9396
9397
9398
9399
9400
9401
9402
9403
9404
9405
9406
9407
9408
9409
9410
9411
9412
9413
9414
9415
9416
9417
9418
9419
9420
9421
9422
9423
9424
9425
9426
9427
9428
9429
9430
9431
9432
9433
9434
9435
9436
9437
9438
9439
9440
9441
9442
9443
9444
9445
9446
9447
9448
9449
9450
9451
9452
9453
9454
9455
9456
9457
9458
9459
9460
9461
9462
9463
9464
9465
9466
9467
9468
9469
9470
9471
9472
9473
9474
9475
9476
9477
9478
9479
9480
9481
9482
9483
9484
9485
9486
9487
9488
9489
9490
9491
9492
9493
9494
9495
9496
9497
9498
9499
9500
9501
9502
9503
9504
9505
9506
9507
9508
9509
9510
9511
9512
9513
9514
9515
9516
9517
9518
9519
9520
9521
9522
9523
9524
9525
9526
9527
9528
9529
9530
9531
9532
9533
9534
9535
9536
9537
9538
9539
9540
9541
9542
9543
9544
9545
9546
9547
9548
9549
9550
9551
9552
9553
9554
9555
9556
9557
9558
9559
9560
9561
9562
9563
9564
9565
9566
9567
9568
9569
9570
9571
9572
9573
9574
9575
9576
9577
9578
9579
9580
9581
9582
9583
9584
9585
9586
9587
9588
9589
9590
9591
9592
9593
9594
9595
9596
9597
9598
9599
9600
9601
9602
9603
9604
9605
9606
9607
9608
9609
9610
9611
9612
9613
9614
9615
9616
9617
9618
9619
9620
9621
9622
9623
9624
9625
9626
9627
9628
9629
9630
9631
9632
9633
9634
9635
9636
9637
9638
9639
9640
9641
9642
9643
9644
9645
9646
9647
9648
9649
9650
9651
9652
9653
9654
9655
9656
9657
9658
9659
9660
9661
9662
9663
9664
9665
9666
9667
9668
9669
9670
9671
9672
9673
9674
9675
9676
9677
9678
9679
9680
9681
9682
9683
9684
9685
9686
9687
9688
9689
9690
9691
9692
9693
9694
9695
9696
9697
9698
9699
9700
9701
9702
9703
9704
9705
9706
9707
9708
9709
9710
9711
9712
9713
9714
9715
9716
9717
9718
9719
9720
9721
9722
9723
9724
9725
9726
9727
9728
9729
9730
9731
9732
9733
9734
9735
9736
9737
9738
9739
9740
9741
9742
9743
9744
9745
9746
9747
9748
9749
9750
9751
9752
9753
9754
9755
9756
9757
9758
9759
9760
9761
9762
9763
9764
9765
9766
9767
9768
9769
9770
9771
9772
9773
9774
9775
9776
9777
9778
9779
9780
9781
9782
9783
9784
9785
9786
9787
9788
9789
9790
9791
9792
9793
9794
9795
9796
9797
9798
9799
9800
9801
9802
9803
9804
9805
9806
9807
9808
9809
9810
9811
9812
9813
9814
9815
9816
9817
9818
9819
9820
9821
9822
9823
9824
9825
9826
9827
9828
9829
9830
9831
9832
9833
9834
9835
9836
9837
9838
9839
9840
9841
9842
9843
9844
9845
9846
9847
9848
9849
9850
9851
9852
9853
9854
9855
9856
9857
9858
9859
9860
9861
9862
9863
9864
9865
9866
9867
9868
9869
9870
9871
9872
9873
9874
9875
9876
9877
9878
9879
9880
9881
9882
9883
9884
9885
9886
9887
9888
9889
9890
9891
9892
9893
9894
9895
9896
9897
9898
9899
9900
9901
9902
9903
9904
9905
9906
9907
9908
9909
9910
9911
9912
9913
9914
9915
9916
9917
9918
9919
9920
9921
9922
9923
9924
9925
9926
9927
9928
9929
9930
9931
9932
9933
9934
9935
9936
9937
9938
9939
9940
9941
9942
9943
9944
9945
9946
9947
9948
9949
9950
9951
9952
9953
9954
9955
9956
9957
9958
9959
9960
9961
9962
9963
9964
9965
9966
9967
9968
9969
9970
9971
9972
9973
9974
9975
9976
9977
9978
9979
9980
9981
9982
9983
9984
9985
9986
9987
9988
9989
9990
9991
9992
9993
9994
9995
9996
9997
9998
9999
10000
10001
10002
10003
10004
10005
10006
10007
10008
10009
10010
10011
10012
10013
10014
10015
10016
10017
10018
10019
10020
10021
10022
10023
10024
10025
10026
10027
10028
10029
10030
10031
10032
10033
10034
10035
10036
10037
10038
10039
10040
10041
10042
10043
10044
10045
10046
10047
10048
10049
10050
10051
10052
10053
10054
10055
10056
10057
10058
10059
10060
10061
10062
10063
10064
10065
10066
10067
10068
10069
10070
10071
10072
10073
10074
10075
10076
10077
10078
10079
10080
10081
10082
10083
10084
10085
10086
10087
10088
10089
10090
10091
10092
10093
10094
10095
10096
10097
10098
10099
10100
10101
10102
10103
10104
10105
10106
10107
10108
10109
10110
10111
10112
10113
10114
10115
10116
10117
10118
10119
10120
10121
10122
10123
10124
10125
10126
10127
10128
10129
10130
10131
10132
10133
10134
10135
10136
10137
10138
10139
10140
10141
10142
10143
10144
10145
10146
10147
10148
10149
10150
10151
10152
10153
10154
10155
10156
10157
10158
10159
10160
10161
10162
10163
10164
10165
10166
10167
10168
10169
10170
10171
10172
10173
10174
10175
10176
10177
10178
10179
10180
10181
10182
10183
10184
10185
10186
10187
10188
10189
10190
10191
10192
10193
10194
10195
10196
10197
10198
10199
10200
10201
10202
10203
10204
10205
10206
10207
10208
10209
10210
10211
10212
10213
10214
10215
10216
10217
10218
10219
10220
10221
10222
10223
10224
10225
10226
10227
10228
10229
10230
10231
10232
10233
10234
10235
10236
10237
10238
10239
10240
10241
10242
10243
10244
10245
10246
10247
10248
10249
10250
10251
10252
10253
10254
10255
10256
10257
10258
10259
10260
10261
10262
10263
10264
10265
10266
10267
10268
10269
10270
10271
10272
10273
10274
10275
10276
10277
10278
10279
10280
10281
10282
10283
10284
10285
10286
10287
10288
10289
10290
10291
10292
10293
10294
10295
10296
10297
10298
10299
10300
10301
10302
10303
10304
10305
10306
10307
10308
10309
10310
10311
10312
10313
10314
10315
10316
10317
10318
10319
10320
10321
10322
10323
10324
10325
10326
10327
10328
10329
10330
10331
10332
10333
10334
10335
10336
10337
10338
10339
10340
10341
10342
10343
10344
10345
10346
10347
10348
10349
10350
10351
10352
10353
10354
10355
10356
10357
10358
10359
10360
10361
10362
10363
10364
10365
10366
10367
10368
10369
10370
10371
10372
10373
10374
10375
10376
10377
10378
10379
10380
10381
10382
10383
10384
10385
10386
10387
10388
10389
10390
10391
10392
10393
10394
10395
10396
10397
10398
10399
10400
10401
10402
10403
10404
10405
10406
10407
10408
10409
10410
10411
10412
10413
10414
10415
10416
10417
10418
10419
10420
10421
10422
10423
10424
10425
10426
10427
10428
10429
10430
10431
10432
10433
10434
10435
10436
10437
10438
10439
10440
10441
10442
10443
10444
10445
10446
10447
10448
10449
10450
10451
10452
10453
10454
10455
10456
10457
10458
10459
10460
10461
10462
10463
10464
10465
10466
10467
10468
10469
10470
10471
10472
10473
10474
10475
10476
10477
10478
10479
10480
10481
10482
10483
10484
10485
10486
10487
10488
10489
10490
10491
10492
10493
10494
10495
10496
10497
10498
10499
10500
10501
10502
10503
10504
10505
10506
10507
10508
10509
10510
10511
10512
10513
10514
10515
10516
10517
10518
10519
10520
10521
10522
10523
10524
10525
10526
10527
10528
10529
10530
10531
10532
10533
10534
10535
10536
10537
10538
10539
10540
10541
10542
10543
10544
10545
10546
10547
10548
10549
10550
10551
10552
10553
10554
10555
10556
10557
10558
10559
10560
10561
10562
10563
10564
10565
10566
10567
10568
10569
10570
10571
10572
10573
10574
10575
10576
10577
10578
10579
10580
10581
10582
10583
10584
10585
10586
10587
10588
10589
10590
10591
10592
10593
10594
10595
10596
10597
10598
10599
10600
10601
10602
10603
10604
10605
10606
10607
10608
10609
10610
10611
10612
10613
10614
10615
10616
10617
10618
10619
10620
10621
10622
10623
10624
10625
10626
10627
10628
10629
10630
10631
10632
10633
10634
10635
10636
10637
10638
10639
10640
10641
10642
10643
10644
10645
10646
10647
10648
10649
10650
10651
10652
10653
10654
10655
10656
10657
10658
10659
10660
10661
10662
10663
10664
10665
10666
10667
10668
10669
10670
10671
10672
10673
10674
10675
10676
10677
10678
10679
10680
10681
10682
10683
10684
10685
10686
10687
10688
10689
10690
10691
10692
10693
10694
10695
10696
10697
10698
10699
10700
10701
10702
10703
10704
10705
10706
10707
10708
10709
10710
10711
10712
10713
10714
10715
10716
10717
10718
10719
10720
10721
10722
10723
10724
10725
10726
10727
10728
10729
10730
10731
10732
10733
10734
10735
10736
10737
10738
10739
10740
10741
10742
10743
10744
10745
10746
10747
10748
10749
10750
10751
10752
10753
10754
10755
10756
10757
10758
10759
10760
10761
10762
10763
10764
10765
10766
10767
10768
10769
10770
10771
10772
10773
10774
10775
10776
10777
10778
10779
10780
10781
10782
10783
10784
10785
10786
10787
10788
10789
10790
10791
10792
10793
10794
10795
10796
10797
10798
10799
10800
10801
10802
10803
10804
10805
10806
10807
10808
10809
10810
10811
10812
10813
10814
10815
10816
10817
10818
10819
10820
10821
10822
10823
10824
10825
10826
10827
10828
10829
10830
10831
10832
10833
10834
10835
10836
10837
10838
10839
10840
10841
10842
10843
10844
10845
10846
10847
10848
10849
10850
10851
10852
10853
10854
10855
10856
10857
10858
10859
10860
10861
10862
10863
10864
10865
10866
10867
10868
10869
10870
10871
10872
10873
10874
10875
10876
10877
10878
10879
10880
10881
10882
10883
10884
10885
10886
10887
10888
10889
10890
10891
10892
10893
10894
10895
10896
10897
10898
10899
10900
10901
10902
10903
10904
10905
10906
10907
10908
10909
10910
10911
10912
10913
10914
10915
10916
10917
10918
10919
10920
10921
10922
10923
10924
10925
10926
10927
10928
10929
10930
10931
10932
10933
10934
10935
10936
10937
10938
10939
10940
10941
10942
10943
10944
10945
10946
10947
10948
10949
10950
10951
10952
10953
10954
10955
10956
10957
10958
10959
10960
10961
10962
10963
10964
10965
10966
10967
10968
10969
10970
10971
10972
10973
10974
10975
10976
10977
10978
10979
10980
10981
10982
10983
10984
10985
10986
10987
10988
10989
10990
10991
10992
10993
10994
10995
10996
10997
10998
10999
11000
11001
11002
11003
11004
11005
11006
11007
11008
11009
11010
11011
11012
11013
11014
11015
11016
11017
11018
11019
11020
11021
11022
11023
11024
11025
11026
11027
11028
11029
11030
11031
11032
11033
11034
11035
11036
11037
11038
11039
11040
11041
11042
11043
11044
11045
11046
11047
11048
11049
11050
11051
11052
11053
11054
11055
11056
11057
11058
11059
11060
11061
11062
11063
11064
11065
11066
11067
11068
11069
11070
11071
11072
11073
11074
11075
11076
11077
11078
11079
11080
11081
11082
11083
11084
11085
11086
11087
11088
11089
11090
11091
11092
11093
11094
11095
11096
11097
11098
11099
11100
11101
11102
11103
11104
11105
11106
11107
11108
11109
11110
11111
11112
11113
11114
11115
11116
11117
11118
11119
11120
11121
11122
11123
11124
11125
11126
11127
11128
11129
11130
11131
11132
11133
11134
11135
11136
11137
11138
11139
11140
11141
11142
11143
11144
11145
11146
11147
11148
11149
11150
11151
11152
11153
11154
11155
11156
11157
11158
11159
11160
11161
11162
11163
11164
11165
11166
11167
11168
11169
11170
11171
11172
11173
11174
11175
11176
11177
11178
11179
11180
11181
11182
11183
11184
11185
11186
11187
11188
11189
11190
11191
11192
11193
11194
11195
11196
11197
11198
11199
11200
11201
11202
11203
11204
11205
11206
11207
11208
11209
11210
11211
11212
11213
11214
11215
11216
11217
11218
11219
11220
11221
11222
11223
11224
11225
11226
11227
11228
11229
11230
11231
11232
11233
11234
11235
11236
11237
11238
11239
11240
11241
11242
11243
11244
11245
11246
11247
11248
11249
11250
11251
11252
11253
11254
11255
11256
11257
11258
11259
11260
11261
11262
11263
11264
11265
11266
11267
11268
11269
11270
11271
11272
11273
11274
11275
11276
11277
11278
11279
11280
11281
11282
11283
11284
11285
11286
11287
11288
11289
11290
11291
11292
11293
11294
11295
11296
11297
11298
11299
11300
11301
11302
11303
11304
11305
11306
11307
11308
11309
11310
11311
11312
11313
11314
11315
11316
11317
11318
11319
11320
11321
11322
11323
11324
11325
11326
11327
11328
11329
11330
11331
11332
11333
11334
11335
11336
11337
11338
11339
11340
11341
11342
11343
11344
11345
11346
11347
11348
11349
11350
11351
11352
11353
11354
11355
11356
11357
11358
11359
11360
11361
11362
11363
11364
11365
11366
11367
11368
11369
11370
11371
11372
11373
11374
11375
11376
11377
11378
11379
11380
11381
11382
11383
11384
11385
11386
11387
11388
11389
11390
11391
11392
11393
11394
11395
11396
11397
11398
11399
11400
11401
11402
11403
11404
11405
11406
11407
11408
11409
11410
11411
11412
11413
11414
11415
11416
11417
11418
11419
11420
11421
11422
11423
11424
11425
11426
11427
11428
11429
11430
11431
11432
11433
11434
11435
11436
11437
11438
11439
11440
11441
11442
11443
11444
11445
11446
11447
11448
11449
11450
11451
11452
11453
11454
11455
11456
11457
11458
11459
11460
11461
11462
11463
11464
11465
11466
11467
11468
11469
11470
11471
11472
11473
11474
11475
11476
11477
11478
11479
11480
11481
11482
11483
11484
11485
11486
11487
11488
11489
11490
11491
11492
11493
11494
11495
11496
11497
11498
11499
11500
11501
11502
11503
11504
11505
11506
11507
11508
11509
11510
11511
11512
11513
11514
11515
11516
11517
11518
11519
11520
11521
11522
11523
11524
11525
11526
11527
11528
11529
11530
11531
11532
11533
11534
11535
11536
11537
11538
11539
11540
11541
11542
11543
11544
11545
11546
11547
11548
11549
11550
11551
11552
11553
11554
11555
11556
11557
11558
11559
11560
11561
11562
11563
11564
11565
11566
11567
11568
11569
11570
11571
11572
11573
11574
11575
11576
11577
11578
11579
11580
11581
11582
11583
11584
11585
11586
11587
11588
11589
11590
11591
11592
11593
11594
11595
11596
11597
11598
11599
11600
11601
11602
11603
11604
11605
11606
11607
11608
11609
11610
11611
11612
11613
11614
11615
11616
11617
11618
11619
11620
11621
11622
11623
11624
11625
11626
11627
11628
11629
11630
11631
11632
11633
11634
11635
11636
11637
11638
11639
11640
11641
11642
11643
11644
11645
11646
11647
11648
11649
11650
11651
11652
11653
11654
11655
11656
11657
11658
11659
11660
11661
11662
11663
11664
11665
11666
11667
11668
11669
11670
11671
11672
11673
11674
11675
11676
11677
11678
11679
11680
11681
11682
11683
11684
11685
11686
11687
11688
11689
11690
11691
11692
11693
11694
11695
11696
11697
11698
11699
11700
11701
11702
11703
11704
11705
11706
11707
11708
11709
11710
11711
11712
11713
11714
11715
11716
11717
11718
11719
11720
11721
11722
11723
11724
11725
11726
11727
11728
11729
11730
11731
11732
11733
11734
11735
11736
11737
11738
11739
11740
11741
11742
11743
11744
11745
11746
11747
11748
11749
11750
11751
11752
11753
11754
11755
11756
11757
11758
11759
11760
11761
11762
11763
11764
11765
11766
11767
11768
11769
11770
11771
11772
11773
11774
11775
11776
11777
11778
11779
11780
11781
11782
11783
11784
11785
11786
11787
11788
11789
11790
11791
11792
11793
11794
11795
11796
11797
11798
11799
11800
11801
11802
11803
11804
11805
11806
11807
11808
11809
11810
11811
11812
11813
11814
11815
11816
11817
11818
11819
11820
11821
11822
11823
11824
11825
11826
11827
11828
11829
11830
11831
11832
11833
11834
11835
11836
11837
11838
11839
11840
11841
11842
11843
11844
11845
11846
11847
11848
11849
11850
11851
11852
11853
11854
11855
11856
11857
11858
11859
11860
11861
11862
11863
11864
11865
11866
11867
11868
11869
11870
11871
11872
11873
11874
11875
11876
11877
11878
11879
11880
11881
11882
11883
11884
11885
11886
11887
11888
11889
11890
11891
11892
11893
11894
11895
11896
11897
11898
11899
11900
11901
11902
11903
11904
11905
11906
11907
11908
11909
11910
11911
11912
11913
11914
11915
11916
11917
11918
11919
11920
11921
11922
11923
11924
11925
11926
11927
11928
11929
11930
11931
11932
11933
11934
11935
11936
11937
11938
11939
11940
11941
11942
11943
11944
11945
11946
11947
11948
11949
11950
11951
11952
11953
11954
11955
11956
11957
11958
11959
11960
11961
11962
11963
11964
11965
11966
11967
11968
11969
11970
11971
11972
11973
11974
11975
11976
11977
11978
11979
11980
11981
11982
11983
11984
11985
11986
11987
11988
11989
11990
11991
11992
11993
11994
11995
11996
11997
11998
11999
12000
12001
12002
12003
12004
12005
12006
12007
12008
12009
12010
12011
12012
12013
12014
12015
12016
12017
12018
12019
12020
12021
12022
12023
12024
12025
12026
12027
12028
12029
12030
12031
12032
12033
12034
12035
12036
12037
12038
12039
12040
12041
12042
12043
12044
12045
12046
12047
12048
12049
12050
12051
12052
12053
12054
12055
12056
12057
12058
12059
12060
12061
12062
12063
12064
12065
12066
12067
12068
12069
12070
12071
12072
12073
12074
12075
12076
12077
12078
12079
12080
12081
12082
12083
12084
12085
12086
12087
12088
12089
12090
12091
12092
12093
12094
12095
12096
12097
12098
12099
12100
12101
12102
12103
12104
12105
12106
12107
12108
12109
12110
12111
12112
12113
12114
12115
12116
12117
12118
12119
12120
12121
12122
12123
12124
12125
12126
12127
12128
12129
12130
12131
12132
12133
12134
12135
12136
12137
12138
12139
12140
12141
12142
12143
12144
12145
12146
12147
12148
12149
12150
12151
12152
12153
12154
12155
12156
12157
12158
12159
12160
12161
12162
12163
12164
12165
12166
12167
12168
12169
12170
12171
12172
12173
12174
12175
12176
12177
12178
12179
12180
12181
12182
12183
12184
12185
12186
12187
12188
12189
12190
12191
12192
12193
12194
12195
12196
12197
12198
12199
12200
12201
12202
12203
12204
12205
12206
12207
12208
12209
12210
12211
12212
12213
12214
12215
12216
12217
12218
12219
12220
12221
12222
12223
12224
12225
12226
12227
12228
12229
12230
12231
12232
12233
12234
12235
12236
12237
12238
12239
12240
12241
12242
12243
12244
12245
12246
12247
12248
12249
12250
12251
12252
12253
12254
12255
12256
12257
12258
12259
12260
12261
12262
12263
12264
12265
12266
12267
12268
12269
12270
12271
12272
12273
12274
12275
12276
12277
12278
12279
12280
12281
12282
12283
12284
12285
12286
12287
12288
12289
12290
12291
12292
12293
12294
12295
12296
12297
12298
12299
12300
12301
12302
12303
12304
12305
12306
12307
12308
12309
12310
12311
12312
12313
12314
12315
12316
12317
12318
12319
12320
12321
12322
12323
12324
12325
12326
12327
12328
12329
12330
12331
12332
12333
12334
12335
12336
12337
12338
12339
12340
12341
12342
12343
12344
12345
12346
12347
12348
12349
12350
12351
12352
12353
12354
12355
12356
12357
12358
12359
12360
12361
12362
12363
12364
12365
12366
12367
12368
12369
12370
12371
12372
12373
12374
12375
12376
12377
12378
12379
12380
12381
12382
12383
12384
12385
12386
12387
12388
12389
12390
12391
12392
12393
12394
12395
12396
12397
12398
12399
12400
12401
12402
12403
12404
12405
12406
12407
12408
12409
12410
12411
12412
12413
12414
12415
12416
12417
12418
12419
12420
12421
12422
12423
12424
12425
12426
12427
12428
12429
12430
12431
12432
12433
12434
12435
12436
12437
12438
12439
12440
12441
12442
12443
12444
12445
12446
12447
12448
12449
12450
12451
12452
12453
12454
12455
12456
12457
12458
12459
12460
12461
12462
12463
12464
12465
12466
12467
12468
12469
12470
12471
12472
12473
12474
12475
12476
12477
12478
12479
12480
12481
12482
12483
12484
12485
12486
12487
12488
12489
12490
12491
12492
12493
12494
12495
12496
12497
12498
12499
12500
12501
12502
12503
12504
12505
12506
12507
12508
12509
12510
12511
12512
12513
12514
12515
12516
12517
12518
12519
12520
12521
12522
12523
12524
12525
12526
12527
12528
12529
12530
12531
12532
12533
12534
12535
12536
12537
12538
12539
12540
12541
12542
12543
12544
12545
12546
12547
12548
12549
12550
12551
12552
12553
12554
12555
12556
12557
12558
12559
12560
12561
12562
12563
12564
12565
12566
12567
12568
12569
12570
12571
12572
12573
12574
12575
12576
12577
12578
12579
12580
12581
12582
12583
12584
12585
12586
12587
12588
12589
12590
12591
12592
12593
12594
12595
12596
12597
12598
12599
12600
12601
12602
12603
12604
12605
12606
12607
12608
12609
12610
12611
12612
12613
12614
12615
12616
12617
12618
12619
12620
12621
12622
12623
12624
12625
12626
12627
12628
12629
12630
12631
12632
12633
12634
12635
12636
12637
12638
12639
12640
12641
12642
12643
12644
12645
12646
12647
12648
12649
12650
12651
12652
12653
12654
12655
12656
12657
12658
12659
12660
12661
12662
12663
12664
12665
12666
12667
12668
12669
12670
12671
12672
12673
12674
12675
12676
12677
12678
12679
12680
12681
12682
12683
12684
12685
12686
12687
12688
12689
12690
12691
12692
12693
12694
12695
12696
12697
12698
12699
12700
12701
12702
12703
12704
12705
12706
12707
12708
12709
12710
12711
12712
12713
12714
12715
12716
12717
12718
12719
12720
12721
12722
12723
12724
12725
12726
12727
12728
12729
12730
12731
12732
12733
12734
12735
12736
12737
12738
12739
12740
12741
12742
12743
12744
12745
12746
12747
12748
12749
12750
12751
12752
12753
12754
12755
12756
12757
12758
12759
12760
12761
12762
12763
12764
12765
12766
12767
12768
12769
12770
12771
12772
12773
12774
12775
12776
12777
12778
12779
12780
12781
12782
12783
12784
12785
12786
12787
12788
12789
12790
12791
12792
12793
12794
12795
12796
12797
12798
12799
12800
12801
12802
12803
12804
12805
12806
12807
12808
12809
12810
12811
12812
12813
12814
12815
12816
12817
12818
12819
12820
12821
12822
12823
12824
12825
12826
12827
12828
12829
12830
12831
12832
12833
12834
12835
12836
12837
12838
12839
12840
12841
12842
12843
12844
12845
12846
12847
12848
12849
12850
12851
12852
12853
12854
12855
12856
12857
12858
12859
12860
12861
12862
12863
12864
12865
12866
12867
12868
12869
12870
12871
12872
12873
12874
12875
12876
12877
12878
12879
12880
12881
12882
12883
12884
12885
12886
12887
12888
12889
12890
12891
12892
12893
12894
12895
12896
12897
12898
12899
12900
12901
12902
12903
12904
12905
12906
12907
12908
12909
12910
12911
12912
12913
12914
12915
12916
12917
12918
12919
12920
12921
12922
12923
12924
12925
12926
12927
12928
12929
12930
12931
12932
12933
12934
12935
12936
12937
12938
12939
12940
12941
12942
12943
12944
12945
12946
12947
12948
12949
12950
12951
12952
12953
12954
12955
12956
12957
12958
12959
12960
12961
12962
12963
12964
12965
12966
12967
12968
12969
12970
12971
12972
12973
12974
12975
12976
12977
12978
12979
12980
12981
12982
12983
12984
12985
12986
12987
12988
12989
12990
12991
12992
12993
12994
12995
12996
12997
12998
12999
13000
13001
13002
13003
13004
13005
13006
13007
13008
13009
13010
13011
13012
13013
13014
13015
13016
13017
13018
13019
13020
13021
13022
13023
13024
13025
13026
13027
13028
13029
13030
13031
13032
13033
13034
13035
13036
13037
13038
13039
13040
13041
13042
13043
13044
13045
13046
13047
13048
13049
13050
13051
13052
13053
13054
13055
13056
13057
13058
13059
13060
13061
13062
13063
13064
13065
13066
13067
13068
13069
13070
13071
13072
13073
13074
13075
13076
13077
13078
13079
13080
13081
13082
13083
13084
13085
13086
13087
13088
13089
13090
13091
13092
13093
13094
13095
13096
13097
13098
13099
13100
13101
13102
13103
13104
13105
13106
13107
13108
13109
13110
13111
13112
13113
13114
13115
13116
13117
13118
13119
13120
13121
13122
13123
13124
13125
13126
13127
13128
13129
13130
13131
13132
13133
13134
13135
13136
13137
13138
13139
13140
13141
13142
13143
13144
13145
13146
13147
13148
13149
13150
13151
13152
13153
13154
13155
13156
13157
13158
13159
13160
13161
13162
13163
13164
13165
13166
13167
13168
13169
13170
13171
13172
13173
13174
13175
13176
13177
13178
13179
13180
13181
13182
13183
13184
13185
13186
13187
13188
13189
13190
13191
13192
13193
13194
13195
13196
13197
13198
13199
13200
13201
13202
13203
13204
13205
13206
13207
13208
13209
13210
13211
13212
13213
13214
13215
13216
13217
13218
13219
13220
13221
13222
13223
13224
13225
13226
13227
13228
13229
13230
13231
13232
13233
13234
13235
13236
13237
13238
13239
13240
13241
13242
13243
13244
13245
13246
13247
13248
13249
13250
13251
13252
13253
13254
13255
13256
13257
13258
13259
13260
13261
13262
13263
13264
13265
13266
13267
13268
13269
13270
13271
13272
13273
13274
13275
13276
13277
13278
13279
13280
13281
13282
13283
13284
13285
13286
13287
13288
13289
13290
13291
13292
13293
13294
13295
13296
13297
13298
13299
13300
13301
13302
13303
13304
13305
13306
13307
13308
13309
13310
13311
13312
13313
13314
13315
13316
13317
13318
13319
13320
13321
13322
13323
13324
13325
13326
13327
13328
13329
13330
13331
13332
13333
13334
13335
13336
13337
13338
13339
13340
13341
13342
13343
13344
13345
13346
13347
13348
13349
13350
13351
13352
13353
13354
13355
13356
13357
13358
13359
13360
13361
13362
13363
13364
13365
13366
13367
13368
13369
13370
13371
13372
13373
13374
13375
13376
13377
13378
13379
13380
13381
13382
13383
13384
13385
13386
13387
13388
13389
13390
13391
13392
13393
13394
13395
13396
13397
13398
13399
13400
13401
13402
13403
13404
13405
13406
13407
13408
13409
13410
13411
13412
13413
13414
13415
13416
13417
13418
13419
13420
13421
13422
13423
13424
13425
13426
13427
13428
13429
13430
13431
13432
13433
13434
13435
13436
13437
13438
13439
13440
13441
13442
13443
13444
13445
13446
13447
13448
13449
13450
13451
13452
13453
13454
13455
13456
13457
13458
13459
13460
13461
13462
13463
13464
13465
13466
13467
13468
13469
13470
13471
13472
13473
13474
13475
13476
13477
13478
13479
13480
13481
13482
13483
13484
13485
13486
13487
13488
13489
13490
13491
13492
13493
13494
13495
13496
13497
13498
13499
13500
13501
13502
13503
13504
13505
13506
13507
13508
13509
13510
13511
13512
13513
13514
13515
13516
13517
13518
13519
13520
13521
13522
13523
13524
13525
13526
13527
13528
13529
13530
13531
13532
13533
13534
13535
13536
13537
13538
13539
13540
13541
13542
13543
13544
13545
13546
13547
13548
13549
13550
13551
13552
13553
13554
13555
13556
13557
13558
13559
13560
13561
13562
13563
13564
13565
13566
13567
13568
13569
13570
13571
13572
13573
13574
13575
13576
13577
13578
13579
13580
13581
13582
13583
13584
13585
13586
13587
13588
13589
13590
13591
13592
13593
13594
13595
13596
13597
13598
13599
13600
13601
13602
13603
13604
13605
13606
13607
13608
13609
13610
13611
13612
13613
13614
13615
13616
13617
13618
13619
13620
13621
13622
13623
13624
13625
13626
13627
13628
13629
13630
13631
13632
13633
13634
13635
13636
13637
13638
13639
13640
13641
13642
13643
13644
13645
13646
13647
13648
13649
13650
13651
13652
13653
13654
13655
13656
13657
13658
13659
13660
13661
13662
13663
13664
13665
13666
13667
13668
13669
13670
13671
13672
13673
13674
13675
13676
13677
13678
13679
13680
13681
13682
13683
13684
13685
13686
13687
13688
13689
13690
13691
13692
13693
13694
13695
13696
13697
13698
13699
13700
13701
13702
13703
13704
13705
13706
13707
13708
13709
13710
13711
13712
13713
13714
13715
13716
13717
13718
13719
13720
13721
13722
13723
13724
13725
13726
13727
13728
13729
13730
13731
13732
13733
13734
13735
13736
13737
13738
13739
13740
13741
13742
13743
13744
13745
13746
13747
13748
13749
13750
13751
13752
13753
13754
13755
13756
13757
13758
13759
13760
13761
13762
13763
13764
13765
13766
13767
13768
13769
13770
13771
13772
13773
13774
13775
13776
13777
13778
13779
13780
13781
13782
13783
13784
13785
13786
13787
13788
13789
13790
13791
13792
13793
13794
13795
13796
13797
13798
13799
13800
13801
13802
13803
13804
13805
13806
13807
13808
13809
13810
13811
13812
13813
13814
13815
13816
13817
13818
13819
13820
13821
13822
13823
13824
13825
13826
13827
13828
13829
13830
13831
13832
13833
13834
13835
13836
13837
13838
13839
13840
13841
13842
13843
13844
13845
13846
13847
13848
13849
13850
13851
13852
13853
13854
13855
13856
13857
13858
13859
13860
13861
13862
13863
13864
13865
13866
13867
13868
13869
13870
13871
13872
13873
13874
13875
13876
13877
13878
13879
13880
13881
13882
13883
13884
13885
13886
13887
13888
13889
13890
13891
13892
13893
13894
13895
13896
13897
13898
13899
13900
13901
13902
13903
13904
13905
13906
13907
13908
13909
13910
13911
13912
13913
13914
13915
13916
13917
13918
13919
13920
13921
13922
13923
13924
13925
13926
13927
13928
13929
13930
13931
13932
13933
13934
13935
13936
13937
13938
13939
13940
13941
13942
13943
13944
13945
13946
13947
13948
13949
13950
13951
13952
13953
13954
13955
13956
13957
13958
13959
13960
13961
13962
13963
13964
13965
13966
13967
13968
13969
13970
13971
13972
13973
13974
13975
13976
13977
13978
13979
13980
13981
13982
13983
13984
13985
13986
13987
13988
13989
13990
13991
13992
13993
13994
13995
13996
13997
13998
13999
14000
14001
14002
14003
14004
14005
14006
14007
14008
14009
14010
14011
14012
14013
14014
14015
14016
14017
14018
14019
14020
14021
14022
14023
14024
14025
14026
14027
14028
14029
14030
14031
14032
14033
14034
14035
14036
14037
14038
14039
14040
14041
14042
14043
14044
14045
14046
14047
14048
14049
14050
14051
14052
14053
14054
14055
14056
14057
14058
14059
14060
14061
14062
14063
14064
14065
14066
14067
14068
14069
14070
14071
14072
14073
14074
14075
14076
14077
14078
14079
14080
14081
14082
14083
14084
14085
14086
14087
14088
14089
14090
14091
14092
14093
14094
14095
14096
14097
14098
14099
14100
14101
14102
14103
14104
14105
14106
14107
14108
14109
14110
14111
14112
14113
14114
14115
14116
14117
14118
14119
14120
14121
14122
14123
14124
14125
14126
14127
14128
14129
14130
14131
14132
14133
14134
14135
14136
14137
14138
14139
14140
14141
14142
14143
14144
14145
14146
14147
14148
14149
14150
14151
14152
14153
14154
14155
14156
14157
14158
14159
14160
14161
14162
14163
14164
14165
14166
14167
14168
14169
14170
14171
14172
14173
14174
14175
14176
14177
14178
14179
14180
14181
14182
14183
14184
14185
14186
14187
14188
14189
14190
14191
14192
14193
14194
14195
14196
14197
14198
14199
14200
14201
14202
14203
14204
14205
14206
14207
14208
14209
14210
14211
14212
14213
14214
14215
14216
14217
14218
14219
14220
14221
14222
14223
14224
14225
14226
14227
14228
14229
14230
14231
14232
14233
14234
14235
14236
14237
14238
14239
14240
14241
14242
14243
14244
14245
14246
14247
14248
14249
14250
14251
14252
14253
14254
14255
14256
14257
14258
14259
14260
14261
14262
14263
14264
14265
14266
14267
14268
14269
14270
14271
14272
14273
14274
14275
14276
14277
14278
14279
14280
14281
14282
14283
14284
14285
14286
14287
14288
14289
14290
14291
14292
14293
14294
14295
14296
14297
14298
14299
14300
14301
14302
14303
14304
14305
14306
14307
14308
14309
14310
14311
14312
14313
14314
14315
14316
14317
14318
14319
14320
14321
14322
14323
14324
14325
14326
14327
14328
14329
14330
14331
14332
14333
14334
14335
14336
14337
14338
14339
14340
14341
14342
14343
14344
14345
14346
14347
14348
14349
14350
14351
14352
14353
14354
14355
14356
14357
14358
14359
14360
14361
14362
14363
14364
14365
14366
14367
14368
14369
14370
14371
14372
14373
14374
14375
14376
14377
14378
14379
14380
14381
14382
14383
14384
14385
14386
14387
14388
14389
14390
14391
14392
14393
14394
14395
14396
14397
14398
14399
14400
14401
14402
14403
14404
14405
14406
14407
14408
14409
14410
14411
14412
14413
14414
14415
14416
14417
14418
14419
14420
14421
14422
14423
14424
14425
14426
14427
14428
14429
14430
14431
14432
14433
14434
14435
14436
14437
14438
14439
14440
14441
14442
14443
14444
14445
14446
14447
14448
14449
14450
14451
14452
14453
14454
14455
14456
14457
14458
14459
14460
14461
14462
14463
14464
14465
14466
14467
14468
14469
14470
14471
14472
14473
14474
14475
14476
14477
14478
14479
14480
14481
14482
14483
14484
14485
14486
14487
14488
14489
14490
14491
14492
14493
14494
14495
14496
14497
14498
14499
14500
14501
14502
14503
14504
14505
14506
14507
14508
14509
14510
14511
14512
14513
14514
14515
14516
14517
14518
14519
14520
14521
14522
14523
14524
14525
14526
14527
14528
14529
14530
14531
14532
14533
14534
14535
14536
14537
14538
14539
14540
14541
14542
14543
14544
14545
14546
14547
14548
14549
14550
14551
14552
14553
14554
14555
14556
14557
14558
14559
14560
14561
14562
14563
14564
14565
14566
14567
14568
14569
14570
14571
14572
14573
14574
14575
14576
14577
14578
14579
14580
14581
14582
14583
14584
14585
14586
14587
14588
14589
14590
14591
14592
14593
14594
14595
14596
14597
14598
14599
14600
14601
14602
14603
14604
14605
14606
14607
14608
14609
14610
14611
14612
14613
14614
14615
14616
14617
14618
14619
14620
14621
14622
14623
14624
14625
14626
14627
14628
14629
14630
14631
14632
14633
14634
14635
14636
14637
14638
14639
14640
14641
14642
14643
14644
14645
14646
14647
14648
14649
14650
14651
14652
14653
14654
14655
14656
14657
14658
14659
14660
14661
14662
14663
14664
14665
14666
14667
14668
14669
14670
14671
14672
14673
14674
14675
14676
14677
14678
14679
14680
14681
14682
14683
14684
14685
14686
14687
14688
14689
14690
14691
14692
14693
14694
14695
14696
14697
14698
14699
14700
14701
14702
14703
14704
14705
14706
14707
14708
14709
14710
14711
14712
14713
14714
14715
14716
14717
14718
14719
14720
14721
14722
14723
14724
14725
14726
14727
14728
14729
14730
14731
14732
14733
14734
14735
14736
14737
14738
14739
14740
14741
14742
14743
14744
14745
14746
14747
14748
14749
14750
14751
14752
14753
14754
14755
14756
14757
14758
14759
14760
14761
14762
14763
14764
14765
14766
14767
14768
14769
14770
14771
14772
14773
14774
14775
14776
14777
14778
14779
14780
14781
14782
14783
14784
14785
14786
14787
14788
14789
14790
14791
14792
14793
14794
14795
14796
14797
14798
14799
14800
14801
14802
14803
14804
14805
14806
14807
14808
14809
14810
14811
14812
14813
14814
14815
14816
14817
14818
14819
14820
14821
14822
14823
14824
14825
14826
14827
14828
14829
14830
14831
14832
14833
14834
14835
14836
14837
14838
14839
14840
14841
14842
14843
14844
14845
14846
14847
14848
14849
14850
14851
14852
14853
14854
14855
14856
14857
14858
14859
14860
14861
14862
14863
14864
14865
14866
14867
14868
14869
14870
14871
14872
14873
14874
14875
14876
14877
14878
14879
14880
14881
14882
14883
14884
14885
14886
14887
14888
14889
14890
14891
14892
14893
14894
14895
14896
14897
14898
14899
14900
14901
14902
14903
14904
14905
14906
14907
14908
14909
14910
14911
14912
14913
14914
14915
14916
14917
14918
14919
14920
14921
14922
14923
14924
14925
14926
14927
14928
14929
14930
14931
14932
14933
14934
14935
14936
14937
14938
14939
14940
14941
14942
14943
14944
14945
14946
14947
14948
14949
14950
14951
14952
14953
14954
14955
14956
14957
14958
14959
14960
14961
14962
14963
14964
14965
14966
14967
14968
14969
14970
14971
14972
14973
14974
14975
14976
14977
14978
14979
14980
14981
14982
14983
14984
14985
14986
14987
14988
14989
14990
14991
14992
14993
14994
14995
14996
14997
14998
14999
15000
15001
15002
15003
15004
15005
15006
15007
15008
15009
15010
15011
15012
15013
15014
15015
15016
15017
15018
15019
15020
15021
15022
15023
15024
15025
15026
15027
15028
15029
15030
15031
15032
15033
15034
15035
15036
15037
15038
15039
15040
15041
15042
15043
15044
15045
15046
15047
15048
15049
15050
15051
15052
15053
15054
15055
15056
15057
15058
15059
15060
15061
15062
15063
15064
15065
15066
15067
15068
15069
15070
15071
15072
15073
15074
15075
15076
15077
15078
15079
15080
15081
15082
15083
15084
15085
15086
15087
15088
15089
15090
15091
15092
15093
15094
15095
15096
15097
15098
15099
15100
15101
15102
15103
15104
15105
15106
15107
15108
15109
15110
15111
15112
15113
15114
15115
15116
15117
15118
15119
15120
15121
15122
15123
15124
15125
15126
15127
15128
15129
15130
15131
15132
15133
15134
15135
15136
15137
15138
15139
15140
15141
15142
15143
15144
15145
15146
15147
15148
15149
15150
15151
15152
15153
15154
15155
15156
15157
15158
15159
15160
15161
15162
15163
15164
15165
15166
15167
15168
15169
15170
15171
15172
15173
15174
15175
15176
15177
15178
15179
15180
15181
15182
15183
15184
15185
15186
15187
15188
15189
15190
15191
15192
15193
15194
15195
15196
15197
15198
15199
15200
15201
15202
15203
15204
15205
15206
15207
15208
15209
15210
15211
15212
15213
15214
15215
15216
15217
15218
15219
15220
15221
15222
15223
15224
15225
15226
15227
15228
15229
15230
15231
15232
15233
15234
15235
15236
15237
15238
15239
15240
15241
15242
15243
15244
15245
15246
15247
15248
15249
15250
15251
15252
15253
15254
15255
15256
15257
15258
15259
15260
15261
15262
15263
15264
15265
15266
15267
15268
15269
15270
15271
15272
15273
15274
15275
15276
15277
15278
15279
15280
15281
15282
15283
15284
15285
15286
15287
15288
15289
15290
15291
15292
15293
15294
15295
15296
15297
15298
15299
15300
15301
15302
15303
15304
15305
15306
15307
15308
15309
15310
15311
15312
15313
15314
15315
15316
15317
15318
15319
15320
15321
15322
15323
15324
15325
15326
15327
15328
15329
15330
15331
15332
15333
15334
15335
15336
15337
15338
15339
15340
15341
15342
15343
15344
15345
15346
15347
15348
15349
15350
15351
15352
15353
15354
15355
15356
15357
15358
15359
15360
15361
15362
15363
15364
15365
15366
15367
15368
15369
15370
15371
15372
15373
15374
15375
15376
15377
15378
15379
15380
15381
15382
15383
15384
15385
15386
15387
15388
15389
15390
15391
15392
15393
15394
15395
15396
15397
15398
15399
15400
15401
15402
15403
15404
15405
15406
15407
15408
15409
15410
15411
15412
15413
15414
15415
15416
15417
15418
15419
15420
15421
15422
15423
15424
15425
15426
15427
15428
15429
15430
15431
15432
15433
15434
15435
15436
15437
15438
15439
15440
15441
15442
15443
15444
15445
15446
15447
15448
15449
15450
15451
15452
15453
15454
15455
15456
15457
15458
15459
15460
15461
15462
15463
15464
15465
15466
15467
15468
15469
15470
15471
15472
15473
15474
15475
15476
15477
15478
15479
15480
15481
15482
15483
15484
15485
15486
15487
15488
15489
15490
15491
15492
15493
15494
15495
15496
15497
15498
15499
15500
15501
15502
15503
15504
15505
15506
15507
15508
15509
15510
15511
15512
15513
15514
15515
15516
15517
15518
15519
15520
15521
15522
15523
15524
15525
15526
15527
15528
15529
15530
15531
15532
15533
15534
15535
15536
15537
15538
15539
15540
15541
15542
15543
15544
15545
15546
15547
15548
15549
15550
15551
15552
15553
15554
15555
15556
15557
15558
15559
15560
15561
15562
15563
15564
15565
15566
15567
15568
15569
15570
15571
15572
15573
15574
15575
15576
15577
15578
15579
15580
15581
15582
15583
15584
15585
15586
15587
15588
15589
15590
15591
15592
15593
15594
15595
15596
15597
15598
15599
15600
15601
15602
15603
15604
15605
15606
15607
15608
15609
15610
15611
15612
15613
15614
15615
15616
15617
15618
15619
15620
15621
15622
15623
15624
15625
15626
15627
15628
15629
15630
15631
15632
15633
15634
15635
15636
15637
15638
15639
15640
15641
15642
15643
15644
15645
15646
15647
15648
15649
15650
15651
15652
15653
15654
15655
15656
15657
15658
15659
15660
15661
15662
15663
15664
15665
15666
15667
15668
15669
15670
15671
15672
15673
15674
15675
15676
15677
15678
15679
15680
15681
15682
15683
15684
15685
15686
15687
15688
15689
15690
15691
15692
15693
15694
15695
15696
15697
15698
15699
15700
15701
15702
15703
15704
15705
15706
15707
15708
15709
15710
15711
15712
15713
15714
15715
15716
15717
15718
15719
15720
15721
15722
15723
15724
15725
15726
15727
15728
15729
15730
15731
15732
15733
15734
15735
15736
15737
15738
15739
15740
15741
15742
15743
15744
15745
15746
15747
15748
15749
15750
15751
15752
15753
15754
15755
15756
15757
15758
15759
15760
15761
15762
15763
15764
15765
15766
15767
15768
15769
15770
15771
15772
15773
15774
15775
15776
15777
15778
15779
15780
15781
15782
15783
15784
15785
15786
15787
15788
15789
15790
15791
15792
15793
15794
15795
15796
15797
15798
15799
15800
15801
15802
15803
15804
15805
15806
15807
15808
15809
15810
15811
15812
15813
15814
15815
15816
15817
15818
15819
15820
15821
15822
15823
15824
15825
15826
15827
15828
15829
15830
15831
15832
15833
15834
15835
15836
15837
15838
15839
15840
15841
15842
15843
15844
15845
15846
15847
15848
15849
15850
15851
15852
15853
15854
15855
15856
15857
15858
15859
15860
15861
15862
15863
15864
15865
15866
15867
15868
15869
15870
15871
15872
15873
15874
15875
15876
15877
15878
15879
15880
15881
15882
15883
15884
15885
15886
15887
15888
15889
15890
15891
15892
15893
15894
15895
15896
15897
15898
15899
15900
15901
15902
15903
15904
15905
15906
15907
15908
15909
15910
15911
15912
15913
15914
15915
15916
15917
15918
15919
15920
15921
15922
15923
15924
15925
15926
15927
15928
15929
15930
15931
15932
15933
15934
15935
15936
15937
15938
15939
15940
15941
15942
15943
15944
15945
15946
15947
15948
15949
15950
15951
15952
15953
15954
15955
15956
15957
15958
15959
15960
15961
15962
15963
15964
15965
15966
15967
15968
15969
15970
15971
15972
15973
15974
15975
15976
15977
15978
15979
15980
15981
15982
15983
15984
15985
15986
15987
15988
15989
15990
15991
15992
15993
15994
15995
15996
15997
15998
15999
16000
16001
16002
16003
16004
16005
16006
16007
16008
16009
16010
16011
16012
16013
16014
16015
16016
16017
16018
16019
16020
16021
16022
16023
16024
16025
16026
16027
16028
16029
16030
16031
16032
16033
16034
16035
16036
16037
16038
16039
16040
16041
16042
16043
16044
16045
16046
16047
16048
16049
16050
16051
16052
16053
16054
16055
16056
16057
16058
16059
16060
16061
16062
16063
16064
16065
16066
16067
16068
16069
16070
16071
16072
16073
16074
16075
16076
16077
16078
16079
16080
16081
16082
16083
16084
16085
16086
16087
16088
16089
16090
16091
16092
16093
16094
16095
16096
16097
16098
16099
16100
16101
16102
16103
16104
16105
16106
16107
16108
16109
16110
16111
16112
16113
16114
16115
16116
16117
16118
16119
16120
16121
16122
16123
16124
16125
16126
16127
16128
16129
16130
16131
16132
16133
16134
16135
16136
16137
16138
16139
16140
16141
16142
16143
16144
16145
16146
16147
16148
16149
16150
16151
16152
16153
16154
16155
16156
16157
16158
16159
16160
16161
16162
16163
16164
16165
16166
16167
16168
16169
16170
16171
16172
16173
16174
16175
16176
16177
16178
16179
16180
16181
16182
16183
16184
16185
16186
16187
16188
16189
16190
16191
16192
16193
16194
16195
16196
16197
16198
16199
16200
16201
16202
16203
16204
16205
16206
16207
16208
16209
16210
16211
16212
16213
16214
16215
16216
16217
16218
16219
16220
16221
16222
16223
16224
16225
16226
16227
16228
16229
16230
16231
16232
16233
16234
16235
16236
16237
16238
16239
16240
16241
16242
16243
16244
16245
16246
16247
16248
16249
16250
16251
16252
16253
16254
16255
16256
16257
16258
16259
16260
16261
16262
16263
16264
16265
16266
16267
16268
16269
16270
16271
16272
16273
16274
16275
16276
16277
16278
16279
16280
16281
16282
16283
16284
16285
16286
16287
16288
16289
16290
16291
16292
16293
16294
16295
16296
16297
16298
16299
16300
16301
16302
16303
16304
16305
16306
16307
16308
16309
16310
16311
16312
16313
16314
16315
16316
16317
16318
16319
16320
16321
16322
16323
16324
16325
16326
16327
16328
16329
16330
16331
16332
16333
16334
16335
16336
16337
16338
16339
16340
16341
16342
16343
16344
16345
16346
16347
16348
16349
16350
16351
16352
16353
16354
16355
16356
16357
16358
16359
16360
16361
16362
16363
16364
16365
16366
16367
16368
16369
16370
16371
16372
16373
16374
16375
16376
16377
16378
16379
16380
16381
16382
16383
16384
16385
16386
16387
16388
16389
16390
16391
16392
16393
16394
16395
16396
16397
16398
16399
16400
16401
16402
16403
16404
16405
16406
16407
16408
16409
16410
16411
16412
16413
16414
16415
16416
16417
16418
16419
16420
16421
16422
16423
16424
16425
16426
16427
16428
16429
16430
16431
16432
16433
16434
16435
16436
16437
16438
16439
16440
16441
16442
16443
16444
16445
16446
16447
16448
16449
16450
16451
16452
16453
16454
16455
16456
16457
16458
16459
16460
16461
16462
16463
16464
16465
16466
16467
16468
16469
16470
16471
16472
16473
16474
16475
16476
16477
16478
16479
16480
16481
16482
16483
16484
16485
16486
16487
16488
16489
16490
16491
16492
16493
16494
16495
16496
16497
16498
16499
16500
16501
16502
16503
16504
16505
16506
16507
16508
16509
16510
16511
16512
16513
16514
16515
16516
16517
16518
16519
16520
16521
16522
16523
16524
16525
16526
16527
16528
16529
16530
16531
16532
16533
16534
16535
16536
16537
16538
16539
16540
16541
16542
16543
16544
16545
16546
16547
16548
16549
16550
16551
16552
16553
16554
16555
16556
16557
16558
16559
16560
16561
16562
16563
16564
16565
16566
16567
16568
16569
16570
16571
16572
16573
16574
16575
16576
16577
16578
16579
16580
16581
16582
16583
16584
16585
16586
16587
16588
16589
16590
16591
16592
16593
16594
16595
16596
16597
16598
16599
16600
16601
16602
16603
16604
16605
16606
16607
16608
16609
16610
16611
16612
16613
16614
16615
16616
16617
16618
16619
16620
16621
16622
16623
16624
16625
16626
16627
16628
16629
16630
16631
16632
16633
16634
16635
16636
16637
16638
16639
16640
16641
16642
16643
16644
16645
16646
16647
16648
16649
16650
16651
16652
16653
16654
16655
16656
16657
16658
16659
16660
16661
16662
16663
16664
16665
16666
16667
16668
16669
16670
16671
16672
16673
16674
16675
16676
16677
16678
16679
16680
16681
16682
16683
16684
16685
16686
16687
16688
16689
16690
16691
16692
16693
16694
16695
16696
16697
16698
16699
16700
16701
16702
16703
16704
16705
16706
16707
16708
16709
16710
16711
16712
16713
16714
16715
16716
16717
16718
16719
16720
16721
16722
16723
16724
16725
16726
16727
16728
16729
16730
16731
16732
16733
16734
16735
16736
16737
16738
16739
16740
16741
16742
16743
16744
16745
16746
16747
16748
16749
16750
16751
16752
16753
16754
16755
16756
16757
16758
16759
16760
16761
16762
16763
16764
16765
16766
16767
16768
16769
16770
16771
16772
16773
16774
16775
16776
16777
16778
16779
16780
16781
16782
16783
16784
16785
16786
16787
16788
16789
16790
16791
16792
16793
16794
16795
16796
16797
16798
16799
16800
16801
16802
16803
16804
16805
16806
16807
16808
16809
16810
16811
16812
16813
16814
16815
16816
16817
16818
16819
16820
16821
16822
16823
16824
16825
16826
16827
16828
16829
16830
16831
16832
16833
16834
16835
16836
16837
16838
16839
16840
16841
16842
16843
16844
16845
16846
16847
16848
16849
16850
16851
16852
16853
16854
16855
16856
16857
16858
16859
16860
16861
16862
16863
16864
16865
16866
16867
16868
16869
16870
16871
16872
16873
16874
16875
16876
16877
16878
16879
16880
16881
16882
16883
16884
16885
16886
16887
16888
16889
16890
16891
16892
16893
16894
16895
16896
16897
16898
16899
16900
16901
16902
16903
16904
16905
16906
16907
16908
16909
16910
16911
16912
16913
16914
16915
16916
16917
16918
16919
16920
16921
16922
16923
16924
16925
16926
16927
16928
16929
16930
16931
16932
16933
16934
16935
16936
16937
16938
16939
16940
16941
16942
16943
16944
16945
16946
16947
16948
16949
16950
16951
16952
16953
16954
16955
16956
16957
16958
16959
16960
16961
16962
16963
16964
16965
16966
16967
16968
16969
16970
16971
16972
16973
16974
16975
16976
16977
16978
16979
16980
16981
16982
16983
16984
16985
16986
16987
16988
16989
16990
16991
16992
16993
16994
16995
16996
16997
16998
16999
17000
17001
17002
17003
17004
17005
17006
17007
17008
17009
17010
17011
17012
17013
17014
17015
17016
17017
17018
17019
17020
17021
17022
17023
17024
17025
17026
17027
17028
17029
17030
17031
17032
17033
17034
17035
17036
17037
17038
17039
17040
17041
17042
17043
17044
17045
17046
17047
17048
17049
17050
17051
17052
17053
17054
17055
17056
17057
17058
17059
17060
17061
17062
17063
17064
17065
17066
17067
17068
17069
17070
17071
17072
17073
17074
17075
17076
17077
17078
17079
17080
17081
17082
17083
17084
17085
17086
17087
17088
17089
17090
17091
17092
17093
17094
17095
17096
17097
17098
17099
17100
17101
17102
17103
17104
17105
17106
17107
17108
17109
17110
17111
17112
17113
17114
17115
17116
17117
17118
17119
17120
17121
17122
17123
17124
17125
17126
17127
17128
17129
17130
17131
17132
17133
17134
17135
17136
17137
17138
17139
17140
17141
17142
17143
17144
17145
17146
17147
17148
17149
17150
17151
17152
17153
17154
17155
17156
17157
17158
17159
17160
17161
17162
17163
17164
17165
17166
17167
17168
17169
17170
17171
17172
17173
17174
17175
17176
17177
17178
17179
17180
17181
17182
17183
17184
17185
17186
17187
17188
17189
17190
17191
17192
17193
17194
17195
17196
17197
17198
17199
17200
17201
17202
17203
17204
17205
17206
17207
17208
17209
17210
17211
17212
17213
17214
17215
17216
17217
17218
17219
17220
17221
17222
17223
17224
17225
17226
17227
17228
17229
17230
17231
17232
17233
17234
17235
17236
17237
17238
17239
17240
17241
17242
17243
17244
17245
17246
17247
17248
17249
17250
17251
17252
17253
17254
17255
17256
17257
17258
17259
17260
17261
17262
17263
17264
17265
17266
17267
17268
17269
17270
17271
17272
17273
17274
17275
17276
17277
17278
17279
17280
17281
17282
17283
17284
17285
17286
17287
17288
17289
17290
17291
17292
17293
17294
17295
17296
17297
17298
17299
17300
17301
17302
17303
17304
17305
17306
17307
17308
17309
17310
17311
17312
17313
17314
17315
17316
17317
17318
17319
17320
17321
17322
17323
17324
17325
17326
17327
17328
17329
17330
17331
17332
17333
17334
17335
17336
17337
17338
17339
17340
17341
17342
17343
17344
17345
17346
17347
17348
17349
17350
17351
17352
17353
17354
17355
17356
17357
17358
17359
17360
17361
17362
17363
17364
17365
17366
17367
17368
17369
17370
17371
17372
17373
17374
17375
17376
17377
17378
17379
17380
17381
17382
17383
17384
17385
17386
17387
17388
17389
17390
17391
17392
17393
17394
17395
17396
17397
17398
17399
17400
17401
17402
17403
17404
17405
17406
17407
17408
17409
17410
17411
17412
17413
17414
17415
17416
17417
17418
17419
17420
17421
17422
17423
17424
17425
17426
17427
17428
17429
17430
17431
17432
17433
17434
17435
17436
17437
17438
17439
17440
17441
17442
17443
17444
17445
17446
17447
17448
17449
17450
17451
17452
17453
17454
17455
17456
17457
17458
17459
17460
17461
17462
17463
17464
17465
17466
17467
17468
17469
17470
17471
17472
17473
17474
17475
17476
17477
17478
17479
17480
17481
17482
17483
17484
17485
17486
17487
17488
17489
17490
17491
17492
17493
17494
17495
17496
17497
17498
17499
17500
17501
17502
17503
17504
17505
17506
17507
17508
17509
17510
17511
17512
17513
17514
17515
17516
17517
17518
17519
17520
17521
17522
17523
17524
17525
17526
17527
17528
17529
17530
17531
17532
17533
17534
17535
17536
17537
17538
17539
17540
17541
17542
17543
17544
17545
17546
17547
17548
17549
17550
17551
17552
17553
17554
17555
17556
17557
17558
17559
17560
17561
17562
17563
17564
17565
17566
17567
17568
17569
17570
17571
17572
17573
17574
17575
17576
17577
17578
17579
17580
17581
17582
17583
17584
17585
17586
17587
17588
17589
17590
17591
17592
17593
17594
17595
17596
17597
17598
17599
17600
17601
17602
17603
17604
17605
17606
17607
17608
17609
17610
17611
17612
17613
17614
17615
17616
17617
17618
17619
17620
17621
17622
17623
17624
17625
17626
17627
17628
17629
17630
17631
17632
17633
17634
17635
17636
17637
17638
17639
17640
17641
17642
17643
17644
17645
17646
17647
17648
17649
17650
17651
17652
17653
17654
17655
17656
17657
17658
17659
17660
17661
17662
17663
17664
17665
17666
17667
17668
17669
17670
17671
17672
17673
17674
17675
17676
17677
17678
17679
17680
17681
17682
17683
17684
17685
17686
17687
17688
17689
17690
17691
17692
17693
17694
17695
17696
17697
17698
17699
17700
17701
17702
17703
17704
17705
17706
17707
17708
17709
17710
17711
17712
17713
17714
17715
17716
17717
17718
17719
17720
17721
17722
17723
17724
17725
17726
17727
17728
17729
17730
17731
17732
17733
17734
17735
17736
17737
17738
17739
17740
17741
17742
17743
17744
17745
17746
17747
17748
17749
17750
17751
17752
17753
17754
17755
17756
17757
17758
17759
17760
17761
17762
17763
17764
17765
17766
17767
17768
17769
17770
17771
17772
17773
17774
17775
17776
17777
17778
17779
17780
17781
17782
17783
17784
17785
17786
17787
17788
17789
17790
17791
17792
17793
17794
17795
17796
17797
17798
17799
17800
17801
17802
17803
17804
17805
17806
17807
17808
17809
17810
17811
17812
17813
17814
17815
17816
17817
17818
17819
17820
17821
17822
17823
17824
17825
17826
17827
17828
17829
17830
17831
17832
17833
17834
17835
17836
17837
17838
17839
17840
17841
17842
17843
17844
17845
17846
17847
17848
17849
17850
17851
17852
17853
17854
17855
17856
17857
17858
17859
17860
17861
17862
17863
17864
17865
17866
17867
17868
17869
17870
17871
17872
17873
17874
17875
17876
17877
17878
17879
17880
17881
17882
17883
17884
17885
17886
17887
17888
17889
17890
17891
17892
17893
17894
17895
17896
17897
17898
17899
17900
17901
17902
17903
17904
17905
17906
17907
17908
17909
17910
17911
17912
17913
17914
17915
17916
17917
17918
17919
17920
17921
17922
17923
17924
17925
17926
17927
17928
17929
17930
17931
17932
17933
17934
17935
17936
17937
17938
17939
17940
17941
17942
17943
17944
17945
17946
17947
17948
17949
17950
17951
17952
17953
17954
17955
17956
17957
17958
17959
17960
17961
17962
17963
17964
17965
17966
17967
17968
17969
17970
17971
17972
17973
17974
17975
17976
17977
17978
17979
17980
17981
17982
17983
17984
17985
17986
17987
17988
17989
17990
17991
17992
17993
17994
17995
17996
17997
17998
17999
18000
18001
18002
18003
18004
18005
18006
18007
18008
18009
18010
18011
18012
18013
18014
18015
18016
18017
18018
18019
18020
18021
18022
18023
18024
18025
18026
18027
18028
18029
18030
18031
18032
18033
18034
18035
18036
18037
18038
18039
18040
18041
18042
18043
18044
18045
18046
18047
18048
18049
18050
18051
18052
18053
18054
18055
18056
18057
18058
18059
18060
18061
18062
18063
18064
18065
18066
18067
18068
18069
18070
18071
18072
18073
18074
18075
18076
18077
18078
18079
18080
18081
18082
18083
18084
18085
18086
18087
18088
18089
18090
18091
18092
18093
18094
18095
18096
18097
18098
18099
18100
18101
18102
18103
18104
18105
18106
18107
18108
18109
18110
18111
18112
18113
18114
18115
18116
18117
18118
18119
18120
18121
18122
18123
18124
18125
18126
18127
18128
18129
18130
18131
18132
18133
18134
18135
18136
18137
18138
18139
18140
18141
18142
18143
18144
18145
18146
18147
18148
18149
18150
18151
18152
18153
18154
18155
18156
18157
18158
18159
18160
18161
18162
18163
18164
18165
18166
18167
18168
18169
18170
18171
18172
18173
18174
18175
18176
18177
18178
18179
18180
18181
18182
18183
18184
18185
18186
18187
18188
18189
18190
18191
18192
18193
18194
18195
18196
18197
18198
18199
18200
18201
18202
18203
18204
18205
18206
18207
18208
18209
18210
18211
18212
18213
18214
18215
18216
18217
18218
18219
18220
18221
18222
18223
18224
18225
18226
18227
18228
18229
18230
18231
18232
18233
18234
18235
18236
18237
18238
18239
18240
18241
18242
18243
18244
18245
18246
18247
18248
18249
18250
18251
18252
18253
18254
18255
18256
18257
18258
18259
18260
18261
18262
18263
18264
18265
18266
18267
18268
18269
18270
18271
18272
18273
18274
18275
18276
18277
18278
18279
18280
18281
18282
18283
18284
18285
18286
18287
18288
18289
18290
18291
18292
18293
18294
18295
18296
18297
18298
18299
18300
18301
18302
18303
18304
18305
18306
18307
18308
18309
18310
18311
18312
18313
18314
18315
18316
18317
18318
18319
18320
18321
18322
18323
18324
18325
18326
18327
18328
18329
18330
18331
18332
18333
18334
18335
18336
18337
18338
18339
18340
18341
18342
18343
18344
18345
18346
18347
18348
18349
18350
18351
18352
18353
18354
18355
18356
18357
18358
18359
18360
18361
18362
18363
18364
18365
18366
18367
18368
18369
18370
18371
18372
18373
18374
18375
18376
18377
18378
18379
18380
18381
18382
18383
18384
18385
18386
18387
18388
18389
18390
18391
18392
18393
18394
18395
18396
18397
18398
18399
18400
18401
18402
18403
18404
18405
18406
18407
18408
18409
18410
18411
18412
18413
18414
18415
18416
18417
18418
18419
18420
18421
18422
18423
18424
18425
18426
18427
18428
18429
18430
18431
18432
18433
18434
18435
18436
18437
18438
18439
18440
18441
18442
18443
18444
18445
18446
18447
18448
18449
18450
18451
18452
18453
18454
18455
18456
18457
18458
18459
18460
18461
18462
18463
18464
18465
18466
18467
18468
18469
18470
18471
18472
18473
18474
18475
18476
18477
18478
18479
18480
18481
18482
18483
18484
18485
18486
18487
18488
18489
18490
18491
18492
18493
18494
18495
18496
18497
18498
18499
18500
18501
18502
18503
18504
18505
18506
18507
18508
18509
18510
18511
18512
18513
18514
18515
18516
18517
18518
18519
18520
18521
18522
18523
18524
18525
18526
18527
18528
18529
18530
18531
18532
18533
18534
18535
18536
18537
18538
18539
18540
18541
18542
18543
18544
18545
18546
18547
18548
18549
18550
18551
18552
18553
18554
18555
18556
18557
18558
18559
18560
18561
18562
18563
18564
18565
18566
18567
18568
18569
18570
18571
18572
18573
18574
18575
18576
18577
18578
18579
18580
18581
18582
18583
18584
18585
18586
18587
18588
18589
18590
18591
18592
18593
18594
18595
18596
18597
18598
18599
18600
18601
18602
18603
18604
18605
18606
18607
18608
18609
18610
18611
18612
18613
18614
18615
18616
18617
18618
18619
18620
18621
18622
18623
18624
18625
18626
18627
18628
18629
18630
18631
18632
18633
18634
18635
18636
18637
18638
18639
18640
18641
18642
18643
18644
18645
18646
18647
18648
18649
18650
18651
18652
18653
18654
18655
18656
18657
18658
18659
18660
18661
18662
18663
18664
18665
18666
18667
18668
18669
18670
18671
18672
18673
18674
18675
18676
18677
18678
18679
18680
18681
18682
18683
18684
18685
18686
18687
18688
18689
18690
18691
18692
18693
18694
18695
18696
18697
18698
18699
18700
18701
18702
18703
18704
18705
18706
18707
18708
18709
18710
18711
18712
18713
18714
18715
18716
18717
18718
18719
18720
18721
18722
18723
18724
18725
18726
18727
18728
18729
18730
18731
18732
18733
18734
18735
18736
18737
18738
18739
18740
18741
18742
18743
18744
18745
18746
18747
18748
18749
18750
18751
18752
18753
18754
18755
18756
18757
18758
18759
18760
18761
18762
18763
18764
18765
18766
18767
18768
18769
18770
18771
18772
18773
18774
18775
18776
18777
18778
18779
18780
18781
18782
18783
18784
18785
18786
18787
18788
18789
18790
18791
18792
18793
18794
18795
18796
18797
18798
18799
18800
18801
18802
18803
18804
18805
18806
18807
18808
18809
18810
18811
18812
18813
18814
18815
18816
18817
18818
18819
18820
18821
18822
18823
18824
18825
18826
18827
18828
18829
18830
18831
18832
18833
18834
18835
18836
18837
18838
18839
18840
18841
18842
18843
18844
18845
18846
18847
18848
18849
18850
18851
18852
18853
18854
18855
18856
18857
18858
18859
18860
18861
18862
18863
18864
18865
18866
18867
18868
18869
18870
18871
18872
18873
18874
18875
18876
18877
18878
18879
18880
18881
18882
18883
18884
18885
18886
18887
18888
18889
18890
18891
18892
18893
18894
18895
18896
18897
18898
18899
18900
18901
18902
18903
18904
18905
18906
18907
18908
18909
18910
18911
18912
18913
18914
18915
18916
18917
18918
18919
18920
18921
18922
18923
18924
18925
18926
18927
18928
18929
18930
18931
18932
18933
18934
18935
18936
18937
18938
18939
18940
18941
18942
18943
18944
18945
18946
18947
18948
18949
18950
18951
18952
18953
18954
18955
18956
18957
18958
18959
18960
18961
18962
18963
18964
18965
18966
18967
18968
18969
18970
18971
18972
18973
18974
18975
18976
18977
18978
18979
18980
18981
18982
18983
18984
18985
18986
18987
18988
18989
18990
18991
18992
18993
18994
18995
18996
18997
18998
18999
19000
19001
19002
19003
19004
19005
19006
19007
19008
19009
19010
19011
19012
19013
19014
19015
19016
19017
19018
19019
19020
19021
19022
19023
19024
19025
19026
19027
19028
19029
19030
19031
19032
19033
19034
19035
19036
19037
19038
19039
19040
19041
19042
19043
19044
19045
19046
19047
19048
19049
19050
19051
19052
19053
19054
19055
19056
19057
19058
19059
19060
19061
19062
19063
19064
19065
19066
19067
19068
19069
19070
19071
19072
19073
19074
19075
19076
19077
19078
19079
19080
19081
19082
19083
19084
19085
19086
19087
19088
19089
19090
19091
19092
19093
19094
19095
19096
19097
19098
19099
19100
19101
19102
19103
19104
19105
19106
19107
19108
19109
19110
19111
19112
19113
19114
19115
19116
19117
19118
19119
19120
19121
19122
19123
19124
19125
19126
19127
19128
19129
19130
19131
19132
19133
19134
19135
19136
19137
19138
19139
19140
19141
19142
19143
19144
19145
19146
19147
19148
19149
19150
19151
19152
19153
19154
19155
19156
19157
19158
19159
19160
19161
19162
19163
19164
19165
19166
19167
19168
19169
19170
19171
19172
19173
19174
19175
19176
19177
19178
19179
19180
19181
19182
19183
19184
19185
19186
19187
19188
19189
19190
19191
19192
19193
19194
19195
19196
19197
19198
19199
19200
19201
19202
19203
19204
19205
19206
19207
19208
19209
19210
19211
19212
19213
19214
19215
19216
19217
19218
19219
19220
19221
19222
19223
19224
19225
19226
19227
19228
19229
19230
19231
19232
19233
19234
19235
19236
19237
19238
19239
19240
19241
19242
19243
19244
19245
19246
19247
19248
19249
19250
19251
19252
19253
19254
19255
19256
19257
19258
19259
19260
19261
19262
19263
19264
19265
19266
19267
19268
19269
19270
19271
19272
19273
19274
19275
19276
19277
19278
19279
19280
19281
19282
19283
19284
19285
19286
19287
19288
19289
19290
19291
19292
19293
19294
19295
19296
19297
19298
19299
19300
19301
19302
19303
19304
19305
19306
19307
19308
19309
19310
19311
19312
19313
19314
19315
19316
19317
19318
19319
19320
19321
19322
19323
19324
19325
19326
19327
19328
19329
19330
19331
19332
19333
19334
19335
19336
19337
19338
19339
19340
19341
19342
19343
19344
19345
19346
19347
19348
19349
19350
19351
19352
19353
19354
19355
19356
19357
19358
19359
19360
19361
19362
19363
19364
19365
19366
19367
19368
19369
19370
19371
19372
19373
19374
19375
19376
19377
19378
19379
19380
19381
19382
19383
19384
19385
19386
19387
19388
19389
19390
19391
19392
19393
19394
19395
19396
19397
19398
19399
19400
19401
19402
19403
19404
19405
19406
19407
19408
19409
19410
19411
19412
19413
19414
19415
19416
19417
19418
19419
19420
19421
19422
19423
19424
19425
19426
19427
19428
19429
19430
19431
19432
19433
19434
19435
19436
19437
19438
19439
19440
19441
19442
19443
19444
19445
19446
19447
19448
19449
19450
19451
19452
19453
19454
19455
19456
19457
19458
19459
19460
19461
19462
19463
19464
19465
19466
19467
19468
19469
19470
19471
19472
19473
19474
19475
19476
19477
19478
19479
19480
19481
19482
19483
19484
19485
19486
19487
19488
19489
19490
19491
19492
19493
19494
19495
19496
19497
19498
19499
19500
19501
19502
19503
19504
19505
19506
19507
19508
19509
19510
19511
19512
19513
19514
19515
19516
19517
19518
19519
19520
19521
19522
19523
19524
19525
19526
19527
19528
19529
19530
19531
19532
19533
19534
19535
19536
19537
19538
19539
19540
19541
19542
19543
19544
19545
19546
19547
19548
19549
19550
19551
19552
19553
19554
19555
19556
19557
19558
19559
19560
19561
19562
19563
19564
19565
19566
19567
19568
19569
19570
19571
19572
19573
19574
19575
19576
19577
19578
19579
19580
19581
19582
19583
19584
19585
19586
19587
19588
19589
19590
19591
19592
19593
19594
19595
19596
19597
19598
19599
19600
19601
19602
19603
19604
19605
19606
19607
19608
19609
19610
19611
19612
19613
19614
19615
19616
19617
19618
19619
19620
19621
19622
19623
19624
19625
19626
19627
19628
19629
19630
19631
19632
19633
19634
19635
19636
19637
19638
19639
19640
19641
19642
19643
19644
19645
19646
19647
19648
19649
19650
19651
19652
19653
19654
19655
19656
19657
19658
19659
19660
19661
19662
19663
19664
19665
19666
19667
19668
19669
19670
19671
19672
19673
19674
19675
19676
19677
19678
19679
19680
19681
19682
19683
19684
19685
19686
19687
19688
19689
19690
19691
19692
19693
19694
19695
19696
19697
19698
19699
19700
19701
19702
19703
19704
19705
19706
19707
19708
19709
19710
19711
19712
19713
19714
19715
19716
19717
19718
19719
19720
19721
19722
19723
19724
19725
19726
19727
19728
19729
19730
19731
19732
19733
19734
19735
19736
19737
19738
19739
19740
19741
19742
19743
19744
19745
19746
19747
19748
19749
19750
19751
19752
19753
19754
19755
19756
19757
19758
19759
19760
19761
19762
19763
19764
19765
19766
19767
19768
19769
19770
19771
19772
19773
19774
19775
19776
19777
19778
19779
19780
19781
19782
19783
19784
19785
19786
19787
19788
19789
19790
19791
19792
19793
19794
19795
19796
19797
19798
19799
19800
19801
19802
19803
19804
19805
19806
19807
19808
19809
19810
19811
19812
19813
19814
19815
19816
19817
19818
19819
19820
19821
19822
19823
19824
19825
19826
19827
19828
19829
19830
19831
19832
19833
19834
19835
19836
19837
19838
19839
19840
19841
19842
19843
19844
19845
19846
19847
19848
19849
19850
19851
19852
19853
19854
19855
19856
19857
19858
19859
19860
19861
19862
19863
19864
19865
19866
19867
19868
19869
19870
19871
19872
19873
19874
19875
19876
19877
19878
19879
19880
19881
19882
19883
19884
19885
19886
19887
19888
19889
19890
19891
19892
19893
19894
19895
19896
19897
19898
19899
19900
19901
19902
19903
19904
19905
19906
19907
19908
19909
19910
19911
19912
19913
19914
19915
19916
19917
19918
19919
19920
19921
19922
19923
19924
19925
19926
19927
19928
19929
19930
19931
19932
19933
19934
19935
19936
19937
19938
19939
19940
19941
19942
19943
19944
19945
19946
19947
19948
19949
19950
19951
19952
19953
19954
19955
19956
19957
19958
19959
19960
19961
19962
19963
19964
19965
19966
19967
19968
19969
19970
19971
19972
19973
19974
19975
19976
19977
19978
19979
19980
19981
19982
19983
19984
19985
19986
19987
19988
19989
19990
19991
19992
19993
19994
19995
19996
19997
19998
19999
20000
20001
20002
20003
20004
20005
20006
20007
20008
20009
20010
20011
20012
20013
20014
20015
20016
20017
20018
20019
20020
20021
20022
20023
20024
20025
20026
20027
20028
20029
20030
20031
20032
20033
20034
20035
20036
20037
20038
20039
20040
20041
20042
20043
20044
20045
20046
20047
20048
20049
20050
20051
20052
20053
20054
20055
20056
20057
20058
20059
20060
20061
20062
20063
20064
20065
20066
20067
20068
20069
20070
20071
20072
20073
20074
20075
20076
20077
20078
20079
20080
20081
20082
20083
20084
20085
20086
20087
20088
20089
20090
20091
20092
20093
20094
20095
20096
20097
20098
20099
20100
20101
20102
20103
20104
20105
20106
20107
20108
20109
20110
20111
20112
20113
20114
20115
20116
20117
20118
20119
20120
20121
20122
20123
20124
20125
20126
20127
20128
20129
20130
20131
20132
20133
20134
20135
20136
20137
20138
20139
20140
20141
20142
20143
20144
20145
20146
20147
20148
20149
20150
20151
20152
20153
20154
20155
20156
20157
20158
20159
20160
20161
20162
20163
20164
20165
20166
20167
20168
20169
20170
20171
20172
20173
20174
20175
20176
20177
20178
20179
20180
20181
20182
20183
20184
20185
20186
20187
20188
20189
20190
20191
20192
20193
20194
20195
20196
20197
20198
20199
20200
20201
20202
20203
20204
20205
20206
20207
20208
20209
20210
20211
20212
20213
20214
20215
20216
20217
20218
20219
20220
20221
20222
20223
20224
20225
20226
20227
20228
20229
20230
20231
20232
20233
20234
20235
20236
20237
20238
20239
20240
20241
20242
20243
20244
20245
20246
20247
20248
20249
20250
20251
20252
20253
20254
20255
20256
20257
20258
20259
20260
20261
20262
20263
20264
20265
20266
20267
20268
20269
20270
20271
20272
20273
20274
20275
20276
20277
20278
20279
20280
20281
20282
20283
20284
20285
20286
20287
20288
20289
20290
20291
20292
20293
20294
20295
20296
20297
20298
20299
20300
20301
20302
20303
20304
20305
20306
20307
20308
20309
20310
20311
20312
20313
20314
20315
20316
20317
20318
20319
20320
20321
20322
20323
20324
20325
20326
20327
20328
20329
20330
20331
20332
20333
20334
20335
20336
20337
20338
20339
20340
20341
20342
20343
20344
20345
20346
20347
20348
20349
20350
20351
20352
20353
20354
20355
20356
20357
20358
20359
20360
20361
20362
20363
20364
20365
20366
20367
20368
20369
20370
20371
20372
20373
20374
20375
20376
20377
20378
20379
20380
20381
20382
20383
20384
20385
20386
20387
20388
20389
20390
20391
20392
20393
20394
20395
20396
20397
20398
20399
20400
20401
20402
20403
20404
20405
20406
20407
20408
20409
20410
20411
20412
20413
20414
20415
20416
20417
20418
20419
20420
20421
20422
20423
20424
20425
20426
20427
20428
20429
20430
20431
20432
20433
20434
20435
20436
20437
20438
20439
20440
20441
20442
20443
20444
20445
20446
20447
20448
20449
20450
20451
20452
20453
20454
20455
20456
20457
20458
20459
20460
20461
20462
20463
20464
20465
20466
20467
20468
20469
20470
20471
20472
20473
20474
20475
20476
20477
20478
20479
20480
20481
20482
20483
20484
20485
20486
20487
20488
20489
20490
20491
20492
20493
20494
20495
20496
20497
20498
20499
20500
20501
20502
20503
20504
20505
20506
20507
20508
20509
20510
20511
20512
20513
20514
20515
20516
20517
20518
20519
20520
20521
20522
20523
20524
20525
20526
20527
20528
20529
20530
20531
20532
20533
20534
20535
20536
20537
20538
20539
20540
20541
20542
20543
20544
20545
20546
20547
20548
20549
20550
20551
20552
20553
20554
20555
20556
20557
20558
20559
20560
20561
20562
20563
20564
20565
20566
20567
20568
20569
20570
20571
20572
20573
20574
20575
20576
20577
20578
20579
20580
20581
20582
20583
20584
20585
20586
20587
20588
20589
20590
20591
20592
20593
20594
20595
20596
20597
20598
20599
20600
20601
20602
20603
20604
20605
20606
20607
20608
20609
20610
20611
20612
20613
20614
20615
20616
20617
20618
20619
20620
20621
20622
20623
20624
20625
20626
20627
20628
20629
20630
20631
20632
20633
20634
20635
20636
20637
20638
20639
20640
20641
20642
20643
20644
20645
20646
20647
20648
20649
20650
20651
20652
20653
20654
20655
20656
20657
20658
20659
20660
20661
20662
20663
20664
20665
20666
20667
20668
20669
20670
20671
20672
20673
20674
20675
20676
20677
20678
20679
20680
20681
20682
20683
20684
20685
20686
20687
20688
20689
20690
20691
20692
20693
20694
20695
20696
20697
20698
20699
20700
20701
20702
20703
20704
20705
20706
20707
20708
20709
20710
20711
20712
20713
20714
20715
20716
20717
20718
20719
20720
20721
20722
20723
20724
20725
20726
20727
20728
20729
20730
20731
20732
20733
20734
20735
20736
20737
20738
20739
20740
20741
20742
20743
20744
20745
20746
20747
20748
20749
20750
20751
20752
20753
20754
20755
20756
20757
20758
20759
20760
20761
20762
20763
20764
20765
20766
20767
20768
20769
20770
20771
20772
20773
20774
20775
20776
20777
20778
20779
20780
20781
20782
20783
20784
20785
20786
20787
20788
20789
20790
20791
20792
20793
20794
20795
20796
20797
20798
20799
20800
20801
20802
20803
20804
20805
20806
20807
20808
20809
20810
20811
20812
20813
20814
20815
20816
20817
20818
20819
20820
20821
20822
20823
20824
20825
20826
20827
20828
20829
20830
20831
20832
20833
20834
20835
20836
20837
20838
20839
20840
20841
20842
20843
20844
20845
20846
20847
20848
20849
20850
20851
20852
20853
20854
20855
20856
20857
20858
20859
20860
20861
20862
20863
20864
20865
20866
20867
20868
20869
20870
20871
20872
20873
20874
20875
20876
20877
20878
20879
20880
20881
20882
20883
20884
20885
20886
20887
20888
20889
20890
20891
20892
20893
20894
20895
20896
20897
20898
20899
20900
20901
20902
20903
20904
20905
20906
20907
20908
20909
20910
20911
20912
20913
20914
20915
20916
20917
20918
20919
20920
20921
20922
20923
20924
20925
20926
20927
20928
20929
20930
20931
20932
20933
20934
20935
20936
20937
20938
20939
20940
20941
20942
20943
20944
20945
20946
20947
20948
20949
20950
20951
20952
20953
20954
20955
20956
20957
20958
20959
20960
20961
20962
20963
20964
20965
20966
20967
20968
20969
20970
20971
20972
20973
20974
20975
20976
20977
20978
20979
20980
20981
20982
20983
20984
20985
20986
20987
20988
20989
20990
20991
20992
20993
20994
20995
20996
20997
20998
20999
21000
21001
21002
21003
21004
21005
21006
21007
21008
21009
21010
21011
21012
21013
21014
21015
21016
21017
21018
21019
21020
21021
21022
21023
21024
21025
21026
21027
21028
21029
21030
21031
21032
21033
21034
21035
21036
21037
21038
21039
21040
21041
21042
21043
21044
21045
21046
21047
21048
21049
21050
21051
21052
21053
21054
21055
21056
21057
21058
21059
21060
21061
21062
21063
21064
21065
21066
21067
21068
21069
21070
21071
21072
21073
21074
21075
21076
21077
21078
21079
21080
21081
21082
21083
21084
21085
21086
21087
21088
21089
21090
21091
21092
21093
21094
21095
21096
21097
21098
21099
21100
21101
21102
21103
21104
21105
21106
21107
21108
21109
21110
21111
21112
21113
21114
21115
21116
21117
21118
21119
21120
21121
21122
21123
21124
21125
21126
21127
21128
21129
21130
21131
21132
21133
21134
21135
21136
21137
21138
21139
21140
21141
21142
21143
21144
21145
21146
21147
21148
21149
21150
21151
21152
21153
21154
21155
21156
21157
21158
21159
21160
21161

<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd">
<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en" xml:lang="en"><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8" /><meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /><link rel="schema.DC" href="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" /><meta name="DC.Creator" content="Various" /><meta name="DC.Title" content="The International Monthly Magazine - Volume V - No II" /><meta name="DC.Date" content="December 13, 2006" /><meta name="DC.Language" content="English" /><meta name="DC.Publisher" content="Project Gutenberg" /><meta name="DC.Identifier" content="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/20102" /><meta name="DC.Rights" content="This text is in the public domain." /><title>The Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly Magazine - Volume V - No II by Various</title><style type="text/css">/* 
The Gnutenberg Press - default CSS2 stylesheet

Any generated element will have a class "tei" and a class "tei-elem"
where elem is the element name in TEI. 
The order of statements is important !!! 
*/

.tei                            { margin: 0; padding: 0; 
                                  font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; font-style: normal }

.block                          { display: block; }
.inline                         { display: inline; }
.floatleft                      { float: left;  margin: 1em 2em 1em 0; }
.floatright                     { float: right; margin: 1em 0 1em 2em; }
.shaded                         { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; 
                                  padding: 1em; background-color: #eee; }
.boxed                          { margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; 
                                  padding: 1em; border: 1px solid black; }

body.tei		        { margin: 4ex 10%; text-align: justify }
div.tei              	        { margin: 2em 0em }
p.tei              	        { margin: 0em 0em 1em 0em; text-indent: 0em; }
blockquote.tei	     	        { margin: 2em 4em }

div.tei-lg                      { margin: 1em 0em; }
div.tei-l		        { margin: 0em; text-align: left; }
div.tei-tb                      { text-align: center; }
div.tei-epigraph     	        { margin: 0em 0em 1em 10em; }
div.tei-dateline	        { margin: 1ex 0em; text-align: right }
div.tei-salute                  { margin: 1ex 0em; }
div.tei-signed                  { margin: 1ex 0em; text-align: right }
div.tei-byline                  { margin: 1ex 0em; }

                                /* calculate from size of body = 80% */
div.tei-marginnote		{ margin: 0em 0em 0em -12%; width: 11%; float: left; }

div.tei-sp                      { margin: 1em 0em 1em  2em }
div.tei-speaker	                { margin: 0em 0em 1em -2em;
                        	  font-weight: bold; text-indent: 0em }
div.tei-stage                   { margin: 1em 0em; font-weight: normal; font-style: italic }
span.tei-stage	     	        { font-weight: normal; font-style: italic }

div.tei-eg             	        { padding: 1em; 
                     	          color: black; background-color: #eee }

hr.doublepage	     	        { margin: 4em 0em; height: 5px; }
hr.page            	        { margin: 4em 0em; height: 2px; }

ul.tei-index                    { list-style-type: none }

dl.tei                          { margin: 1em 0em }

dt.tei-notelabel                { font-weight: normal; text-align: right; 
                     	          float: left; width: 3em }
dd.tei-notetext                 { margin: 0em 0em 1ex 4em }

span.tei-pb                     { position: absolute; left: 1%; width: 8%;
                                  font-style: normal; }

span.code          	        { font-family: monospace; font-size: 110%; }

ul.tei-castlist 		{ margin: 0em; list-style-type: none }
li.tei-castitem		        { margin: 0em; }
table.tei-castgroup     	{ margin: 0em; }
ul.tei-castgroup		{ margin: 0em; list-style-type: none; 
				  padding-right: 2em; border-right: solid black 2px; }
caption.tei-castgroup-head	{ caption-side: right; width: 50%; text-align: left; 
				  vertical-align: middle; padding-left: 2em; }
*.tei-roledesc  		{ font-style: italic }
*.tei-set			{ font-style: italic }

table.rules                     { border-collapse: collapse; }
table.rules caption,
table.rules th,
table.rules td                  { border: 1px solid black; }

table.tei                       { border-collapse: collapse; }
table.tei-list                  { width: 100% }

th.tei-head-table	        { padding: 0.5ex 1em }

th.tei-cell		        { padding: 0em 1em }
td.tei-cell		        { padding: 0em 1em }

td.tei-item		        { padding: 0; font-weight: normal; 
                                  vertical-align: top; text-align: left; }
th.tei-label,
td.tei-label                    { width: 3em; padding: 0; font-weight: normal; 
                                  vertical-align: top; text-align: right; }

th.tei-label-gloss,
td.tei-label-gloss              { text-align: left }

td.tei-item-gloss,
th.tei-headItem-gloss           { padding-left: 4em; }       

img.tei-formula                 { vertical-align: middle; }

</style></head><body class="tei">



  


<div class="tei tei-text" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">
<div class="tei tei-front" style="margin-bottom: 6.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">
<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<div id="pgheader" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em"><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em">The Project Gutenberg EBook of The International Monthly Magazine - Volume V - No II by Various</p></div><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost
          and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it,
          give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
          Gutenberg License <a href="#pglicense" class="tei tei-ref">included with this
          eBook</a> or online at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a></p></div><pre class="pre tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em">Title: The International Monthly Magazine - Volume V - No II

Author: Various

Release Date: December 13, 2006 [Ebook #20102]

Language: English

Character set encoding: UTF-8


***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE - VOLUME V - NO II***
</pre></div>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page145">[pg 145]</span><a name="Pg145" id="Pg145" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Of Literature, Art, and Science.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Vol. V.<br />
NEW-YORK, FEBRUARY 1, 1852.<br />
No. II.</p>

<a name="fig1" id="fig1"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image01.png" width="640" height="964" alt="Illustration: THE LATE MARSHAL SOULT, DUKE OF DALMATIA." title="THE LATE MARSHAL SOULT, DUKE OF DALMATIA." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">THE LATE MARSHAL SOULT, DUKE OF DALMATIA.</div></div>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Contents</span></h1>
<ul class="tei tei-index tei-index-toc"><li><a href="#toc2">MARSHAL SOULT, DUKE OF DALMATIA.</a></li><li><a href="#toc4">THE HOMES OF COWLEY AND FOX.</a></li><li><a href="#toc7">CHERTSEY AND ITS FAMOUS CHARACTERS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc21">TRAUGOTT BROMME ON THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA,
TEXAS AND THE COLONIES.</a></li><li><a href="#toc23">A VISIT TO THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS' TEMPLE AT BAKU.</a></li><li><a href="#toc25">A NEW PORTRAIT OF CICERO.</a></li><li><a href="#toc27">LORD MAHON'S HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.</a></li><li><a href="#toc29">FAUST OF WITTENBERG AND FUST OF MENTZ.</a></li><li><a href="#toc31">SOME SMALL POEMS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc33">MR. JUSTICE STORY, WITH SOME REMINISCENT REFLECTIONS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc35">COLUMBUS AT THE GATES OF GENOA.</a></li><li><a href="#toc37">FEATHERTOP: A MORALIZED LEGEND.</a></li><li><a href="#toc39">SMILES AND TEARS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc41">FREEDOM OF THOUGHT AND THE LATEST MIRACLES.</a></li><li><a href="#toc43">THE SONG QUEEN.</a></li><li><a href="#toc45">LOVE SONG.</a></li><li><a href="#toc47">AUTUMN LINES.</a></li><li><a href="#toc49">THE PUNISHMENT OF GINA MONTANI.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc51">III.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc53">IV.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc55">V.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc57">VI.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc59">VII.</a></li><li><a href="#toc61">VISION OF CHARLES XI.</a></li><li><a href="#toc63">DIVINATION, WITCHCRAFT, AND MESMERISM.</a></li><li><a href="#toc65">A CHAPTER OF EPITAPHS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc67">THE GOOD OLD TIMES IN PARIS.</a></li><li><a href="#toc69">THE LEGEND OF THE WEEPING CHAMBER.</a></li><li><a href="#toc71">THE BULL FIGHT OF MADRID.</a></li><li><a href="#toc73">THE LADY AND THE FLOWER.</a></li><li><a href="#toc75">AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE.</a></li><li><a href="#toc77">MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO.</a></li><li><a href="#toc79">MY NOVEL:</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc81">BOOK IX. - INITIAL CHAPTER.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc83">CHAPTER II.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc85">CHAPTER III.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc87">CHAPTER IV.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc89">CHAPTER V.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc91">CHAPTER VI.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc93">CHAPTER VII.</a></li><li style="margin-left: 2em"><a href="#toc95">CHAPTER VIII.</a></li><li><a href="#toc97">REMINISCENCES OF PRINTERS, AUTHORS, AND BOOKSELLERS IN NEW-YORK.</a></li><li><a href="#toc99">Noctes Amicæ.</a></li><li><a href="#toc101">Authors and Books</a></li><li><a href="#toc103">THE FINE ARTS</a></li><li><a href="#toc105">Historical Review of the Month</a></li><li><a href="#toc107">Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies.</a></li><li><a href="#toc109">Recent Deaths.</a></li><li><a href="#toc112">Ladies' Fashions for February.</a></li></ul>
</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-body" style="margin-bottom: 6.00em; margin-top: 6.00em">
<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page146">[pg 146]</span><a name="Pg146" id="Pg146" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<a name="toc2" id="toc2"></a>
<a name="pdf3" id="pdf3"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">MARSHAL SOULT, DUKE OF DALMATIA.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On the preceding page is a portrait, and under
the head of Recent Deaths, in another
part of this magazine, is a sketch of the history
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Nicholas Jean-de-Dieu Soult</span></span>, the
last of the great Marshals created by the Emperor
Napoleon. He was unquestionably possessed
of extraordinary abilities, fitting him
for eminence in many and diverse capacities,
but it cannot be said that he was of the first
rank of illustrious generals, as the world has
been led to suppose, chiefly by the masterly
but partial delineations of his career in the
Peninsula by General Napier. He had a genius
for war which qualified him for every position
in connection with it but that of leader
in the field. The subtle and irreversible
decisions of Napoleon followed his astonishingly
quick apprehensions of facts, as suddenly
as the thunderbolt follows lightning; but
Soult, profoundly familiar with all the arts of
war, and surpassing any of the great commanders
with whom he was associated except
only his chief, in the wisdom of his judgments,
was yet so slow in his intellectual operations,
so destitute of the enthusiasm, passion, and
fire, which in high circumstance give an almost
miraculous activity to the minds of the
first order of men, that he could never have
entitled himself to all the precedences he has
received in history. Napoleon understood
him, and in a few pregnant words addressed
to O'Meara, gave that measure of his character
which will be adopted as the final opinion
of the world. "He is," said Napoleon,
"an excellent minister at war, or major-general
of an army, one who knows much
better how to manage an army than to command
in chief."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The course of Soult as a citizen, a legislator,
and a minister, was not one upon which
his best biographers will linger with much
satisfaction. The glory he had achieved as
one of the lieutenants of Napoleon, in that
turbulent and grand career which has no
parallel for interest or importance in human
history, was his only claim to distinction in
politics. His master had an ambition as fair
in its proportions as it was vast in its extent,
and brought to every purpose the same forces
of character and preternatural energy of intelligence;
but Soult had no love for civil
duties, but little capacity for them, and he
accepted place as a gratification of vanity or
a means of success in mercenary aims. We
see in all his private and political life "the
soilure of his revolutionary origin,"—proofs
that he loved money and power far more than
he loved honor, and himself far more than his
country or mankind.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The last of the imperial marshals, the last
of that gigantic race who filled the world with
a red glory like the gloom which will precede
the judgment, closed his stormy life peacefully
in the place where he was born, and
thence was borne to the Invalides, to "sleep
well" with his old companions.<span class="tei tei-sic">"</span></p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc4" id="toc4"></a>
<a name="pdf5" id="pdf5"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE HOMES OF COWLEY AND FOX.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We have in the last <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Art Journal</span></span> another of
the pleasant gossipping <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Pilgrimages to
English Shrines</span></span>, by Mrs. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">S. C. Hall</span></span>, and the
following abridgement of it will please all who
have perused the previous papers of the series.
In Chertsey and its neighborhood are memorials
of some of the noblest men of England.</p>

<a name="fig6" id="fig6"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image02.png" width="347" height="418" alt="Illustration: ABRAHAM COWLEY." title="ABRAHAM COWLEY." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">ABRAHAM COWLEY.</div></div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc7" id="toc7"></a>
<a name="pdf8" id="pdf8"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">CHERTSEY AND ITS FAMOUS CHARACTERS.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The county of Surrey is rich to overflowing
in memories, both of persons and events, and
the little quaint and quiet town of Chertsey
could tell of the gorgeous and gloomy past as
much as many of its ancient neighbors within a
day's drive of the city. Had its old abbey stones
but tongues, how they could discourse of years
when a visit to Chertsey was an undertaking;
though now the distance is but half an hour.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nowhere within twenty miles of London
does the Thames appear more queenly, or
sweep with greater grace through its fertile
dominions, than it does at Chertsey. It is,
indeed, delightful to stand on the bridge in
the glowing sunset of a summer evening, and
turning from the refreshing green of the
Shepperton Range, look into the deep clear
blue of the flowing river, while the murmur
of the waters rushing through Laleham Lock
give a sort of spirit music to the scene. On
the right, as you leave Chertsey, the river
bends gracefully towards the double bridge of
Walton, and to the left, it undulates smoothly
along, having passed Runnymede and Staines,
while the almost conical hill of St. Anne's attracts
attention by its abrupt and singular form
when viewed from the vale of the Thames.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">About a mile, on the Walton side, from our
favorite bridge (Old Camden tells us so), is the
spot where Cæsar crossed the Thames. Were
the peasantry as imaginative as their brethren
of Killarney, what legends would have grown
out of this tradition; how often would the
"noblest Roman of them all" have been seen
by the pale moonlight leading his steed over
the waters of the rapid river—how many
would have heard Cassivelaunus himself during<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page147">[pg 147]</span><a name="Pg147" id="Pg147" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the stillness of some particular Midsummer
night working at the rude defence which can
still be traced beneath the blue waters of the
Thames. What hosts of pale and ghastly
spectres would have risen from those tranquil
banks, and from the deepest hollows of
the rushing current, and—like the Huns, who
almost live on the inspired canvas of Kaulbach,—fought
their last earthly battle, again
and again, in the spirit world, amid the stars!
But ours is no region of romance; even remnants
of history, which go beyond the commonest
capacity, are rejected as dreams, or
put aside as legends. But history has enough
to tell to interest us all; and we may be satisfied
with the abundant enjoyment we have
in delicious rambles through the lanes and
up the hills, along the fair river's banks, and
among the many traditional ruins of ancient
and beautiful Surrey.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Never was desolation more complete than
in the ruin of the Mitred Abbey of Chertsey;
hardly one stone remains above another to
tell where this stately edifice—since the far-away
year 664—grew and flourished, lording
it with imperial sway over, not only the surrounding
villages, but extending its paternal
wings into Middlesex and even as far as London.
The abbey was of the Benedictine order, and
founded, almost as soon as the Saxons were
converted from Paganism; but it was finished
and chiefly endowed by Frithwald, Earl of
Surrey. The endowment prospered rarely;
the establishment increased in the reputation
of wealth and sanctity; that it was "thickly
populated" is certain, for when the abbey was
sacked and burnt by the Danes, in the ninth
century, the abbot, and ninety monks, were
barbarously murdered by the invaders.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Standing upon the site of their now obliterated
cloisters and towers, their aisles and
dormitories, cells and confessionals, seeing
nothing but the dank, damp grass, and the
tracings of the fish-ponds—stagnant pools in
our day—it is almost impossible to realize the
onslaught of these wild barbarians panting
for plunder, the earnest defence of men who
fought (the monks of old could wield either
sword or crosier) for life or death, the terrible
destruction, the treasures and relics, and
painted glass, and monuments, the plunder of
the secret almerys, the intoxicated triumph
of those rude northern hordes let loose in our
fair and lovely island; what scenes of savagery,
where now the jackdaw builds, and
the blackbird whistles, and the wild water-rat
plays with her brood amongst the tangled
weeds!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The fierce sea-kings being driven back to
their frozen land, King Edgar, willing to
serve God after the fashion of his times, refounded
the Abbey of Chertsey, dedicating it
to St. Peter, and vying with Pope Alexander
in augmenting its privileges and its wealth.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Some of the abbots took great interest in
home improvements, planting woods, conducting
streams, enlarging ponds—building,
now a mill, now a dove-cot, according to the
wants of the abbey or their own fancies.
Henry I. granted them permission to keep
dogs, that, according to the old chronicle,
they might take "hare, fox, and cats." King
John, in the first year of his reign, gave them
ample confirmation of all their privileges,
which, it would seem, they had somewhat
abused, for we find that the sovereign seized
their manors of Egham and "Torp" (Thorp)
on account of a servant of the abbot's having
killed "Hagh de Torp." Oh, rare "old
times!" The abbot was mulcted in a heavy
fine. Then, while Bartholomew de Winchester
was abbot, from 1272 until 1307, during
the reign of our first Edward, complaints were
made to Pope Gregory X. that the possessions
of the abbey were alienated to civilians
and laymen, whereupon the pope issued a
bull ordering such grants to be revoked.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is worthy of note, that the Chertsey monastery
sheltered, for a time, the remains of
the pious, but unfortunate, Henry VI.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Poor key-cold figure of a Holy King,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And the reader of Shakespeare will recall the
scene in which Richard meets the Lady Anne
on her way to Chertsey with her husband's
body. This poor king's remains had a claim to
be well received by the monks of Chertsey Abbey,
for he had granted to the abbot the privilege
of holding a fair on St. Anne's-hill,
then called Mount Eldebury, on the feast of
St. Anne's (the 26th of July): the fair has
changed its time and quarters as well as its
patron, and is held in the town on the 6th of
August, and called Black Cherry Fair. Manning,
in his history of Surrey, says, that the
tolls of this fair were taken by the abbot, and
are now taken by the owner of the site of the
Abbey House; thus the memory of King Henry
VI. is commemorated in the town of Chertsey
to this day, by the sale of black cherries
in the harvest month of August!</p>

<a name="fig9" id="fig9"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image03.png" width="549" height="689" alt="Illustration: &quot;THE NUN'S WELL.&quot;" title="&quot;THE NUN'S WELL.&quot;" /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">"THE NUN'S WELL."</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Centuries passed over those magnificent
abbeys, whose ruins in many places add so
much beauty to our fertile landscapes; they
grew and grew, and added acre to acre, and
stone to stone, and knowledge to knowledge;
but most they cherished the knowledge which
blazed like a lamp under a bushel, and kept
all but themselves in darkness; they preached
no freedom in Christ to the Christian
world, they abolished no serfdom, they taught
no liberty, they enslaved even those who in
their turn enslaved their "born thralls," and
saw no evil in it. Oh, rare old times! Better
it is for us that the site of Chertsey Abbey
should be scarcely traceable now-a-days
than that it should be as it was, with its proud
pageants and pent-up learning!—Yet we have
neither sympathy no respect for that foul
king, who, to serve his own carnal purposes,
overthrew the very faith which had hallowed
his throne. But he did not attack and storm
the Abbey of Chertsey, as he did other religious
houses. He came to them, this Eighth<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page148">[pg 148]</span><a name="Pg148" id="Pg148" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Harry, with a fair show of kindness, saying
that "to the honor of God, and for the health
of his soul, he proposed and most nobly intended
to refound the late Monastery, Priory,
or Abbey of Bisham in Berks, and to incorporate
and establish the Abbot and Convent
of Chertsey, as Abbot and Convent of Bisham,
and to endow them with all the Manors
late belonging to Bisham." How the then
Abbot John Cordrey, and his brethren, must
have shivered at the conditions; how they
must have grieved at quitting their cherished
home, their stews and fish-ponds, their
rich meadows of Thorpe, overlooked by the
woods of Eldebury hill, their nursing ground
where their calves and young lambs were
stowed in luxurious safety in the pleasant farm
of Simple Marsh at Addlestone!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But their star was setting, and they were
forced to "give, sell, grant and confirm, to the
king their house and all manors belonging to
them."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The total destruction of the Abbey must
have amazed the whole country. An earthquake
could hardly have obliterated it more
entirely. Aubrey, writing in the year 1673,
says "of this great Abbey, scarce any thing
of the old building remains, except the out
walls about it. Out of this ruin, is built a
'fair house,' which is now in possession of
Sir Nicholas Carew, master of the Buckhounds."
Dr. Stukeley alludes to this house,
in a letter written in 1752; he speaks of the
inveterate destruction, and of "the gardener"
carrying him through a "court" where he
saw the remains of the church of the Abbey.
He says the "east end reached up to an artificial
mount along the garden wall; that
mount and all the terraces of the pleasure
garden, to the back front of the house, are
entirely made up of the sacred <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">rudera</span></span> or rubbish
of continual devastations. Bones of abbots,
monks, and great personages, who were
buried in large numbers in the church and
cloisters which lay on the south side of the
church, were spread thick all over the garden,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">so that one may pick up whole handsfull
of them every where amongst the garden stuff</span></span>."
Brayley mentions in his pleasant History of
Surrey, that this artificial mount was levelled
in 1810, and its materials employed to fill
up a pond. Many human skulls and bones
were found intermixed with the chalk and
mortar of which it had been formed. Fragments
of old tiles were also frequently found,
and are still sometimes turned up. No trace
even of the "Abbey house" is left; it was
purchased in 1809 by a stock-broker, who in
the following year sold the materials—and so
ends the great monastic history of Chertsey.
Where are now its spiritualities in Surrey?—its
temporalities in Berkshire and Hampshire?—its
revenues of Stanwell, and rents of assize?—its
spiritualities in Cardiganshire?
Alas! they have left no sign, except on the yellow
parchment—of rare value to the antiquary.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Those who desire, like ourselves, to investigate
what tradition has sanctified, will do
well to turn down a lane beyond Chertsey
Church, which leads directly to the Abbey<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page149">[pg 149]</span><a name="Pg149" id="Pg149" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
bridge, and there, amid tangled hedge rows
and orchards, stands the fragment of an arch,
partly built up, and so to say, disfigured by
brick-work, and an old wall, both evidently
portions of the Abbey. In the wall are a
great number of what the people call "<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">black
stones</span></span>," a geological formation, making them
seem fused by fire. Layers of tiles were also
inserted in this wall, and where the cement
has dropped away they can be distinctly
traced; there is also an ivy, very aged indeed;
it is so knotted and thick that it seems
to grow through the stones, the soil has so
evidently encroached on the wall that it is
most probably rooted at the foundation. The
pleasant market garden of Mr. Roake covers
the actual ground on which the Abbey stood.
The workmen frequently turn up broken tiles
and human bones, and there is no doubt that
by digging deeper much would be discovered
that might elucidate the history of the past.
At the farther end of the market garden a
vault has been discovered which is of considerable
length and breadth; but the water
rises so high in it (except after a long continuance
of dry weather has sealed the land
springs) that it is impossible to get to the end
without wading. An enormous quantity of
richly-colored and decorated encaustic tiles
have been found here; some are preserved in
our local museum. But the most interesting
remains in this place are the "stews," or fish-ponds,
which run parallel to each other like
the bars of a gridiron; these ponds do not
communicate one with the other, nor has the
water any outlet: a little care and attention
might make them valuable for their old purposes;
but they are deplorably neglected.
Occasionally you see the fin of some huge
fish, whose slow movement partakes of the
character of the stagnant water he has inhabited
for years;—who can tall how many?</p>

<a name="fig10" id="fig10"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image04.png" width="640" height="372" alt="Illustration: &quot;THE GOLDEN GROVE.&quot;" title="&quot;THE GOLDEN GROVE.&quot;" /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">"THE GOLDEN GROVE."</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The Abbey River," as it is still called,
travels slowly along its way, fertilizing the
meadows and imparting life and freshness to
the placid scene. The denizens of Chertsey
have planted orchards, and in a few instances
gardens on its banks. One, the garden of Mr.
Herring, is a model of neatness, almost concealed
by its roses and carefully tended shrubs.
We wandered from orchard to orchard, amid
the trees and over the uneven ground; all
was so still and lonely that it required the
suggestions of an active imagination to believe
it had ever been the scene of contention
by flood and field. From the Abbey Bridge
the richness of the meadow scenery is exceedingly
refreshing, the grass is deep and
verdant, as it cannot fail to be, lying so low,
and fertilized by perpetual moisture.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">During their wide-spreading magnificence,
the abbots of Chertsey erected a picturesque
chapel on the lovely hill of St. Anne: this
was done somewhat about the year 1334.
Orleton, Bishop of Winchester, granted an indulgence
of forty days to such persons as
should repair to, and contribute to the fabric
and its ornaments.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There is nowhere a more delightful road,
than that which leads from the "Golden
Grove," rendered picturesque by its old tree,
the plantations of Monksgrove on one side,
and those of the once residence of Charles
James Fox on the other. The road is perfectly
embowered, and so close is the foliage
that you have no idea of the beautiful view
which awaits you, until leaving the statesman's
house to the left, you pass through a
sort of wicket gate on the right, and follow a
foot-path to where two magnificent trees crown
the hill; it is wisest to wait until passing along
the level ridge you arrive at the "view point,"
and there, spread around you in such a panorama
as England only can show, and show
against the world for its extreme richness.
On the left is Cooper's Hill, which Denham,
that high-priest of "Local poetry," long ago
made famous; in the bend just where it
meets the plain, you see the towers of Windsor
Castle; there is Harrow Hill, the sun<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page150">[pg 150]</span><a name="Pg150" id="Pg150" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
shining brightly on its tall church; a deep
pall hovers over London, but you can see
the dome of St. Paul's looming through the
mist; nay, we have heard of those who have
told the hour of the day upon its broad-faced
clock, with the assistance of a good glass.
How beautifully the Thames winds! Ay!
there is the grand stand at Epsom, and there
Twickenham, delicious, soft, balmy Twickenham;
and Richmond Hill—a very queen of
beauty!</p>

<a name="fig11" id="fig11"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image05.png" width="640" height="465" alt="Illustration: REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY." title="REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Yonder, beyond the valley, are Foxes Hills
crowned with lofty pines—and that is the
church at Staines, and as you turn, there again
is Cooper's Hill; Laleham seems spread as a
tribute at your feet, and there is no end to
the villages and mansions—the parks, and
cottages like snow-drops in a parterre, and
church spires more than we can number;
while close behind us are the stones piled
thickly one on the other—the only relics of
the holy Chapel of St. Anne.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">How grandly the promontory of St. George's
Hill stands out—sheltering Weybridge, and
forming a beautiful back-ground to Byfleet
and the banks of the Way; not forgetting its
ruins—a Roman encampment of two thousand
years age, and its modern ornaments of
rare trees, of which a generous nobleman has
made common property, to be enjoyed daily
by all who choose. At the foot of this richly
planted hill, is the beautiful park of Oatlands—on
the eve of becoming an assemblage of
villa-grounds. How pleasant to feel that we
can account, by our own knowledge of that
glowing mount, for all the shades formed by
the hills and hollows, and different growths
of trees in the depths or heights of "the encampment,"
which forms the delight of many
a toilsome antiquary. Beyond are the more
distant eminences of the North Downs, and
a tract of country extending into Kent. But
we have not yet explored the beauties of this
our own hill of Chertsey; truly, to do so,
would take a day as long as that of its own
black cherry fair.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A path to the left, among the fern and
heather, leads to a well, famed for its healing
properties—it is called the Nun's Well; even
now, the peasants believe that its waters are
a cure for diseases of the eye; the path is
steep and dangerous, and it is far pleasanter
to walk round the brow of the hill and overlook
the dense wood which conceals the well,
fringing the meadows of Thorpe, than to
seek its tangled hiding-place in the dell. The
monks of old would be sorely perplexed if
they could arise, to account for the long line
of smoke which marks the passage of the
different trains along their railroads. But we
turn from them to enjoy a ramble round the
brow of St. Anne's Hill; the coppice which
clothes the descent into the valley, is so thick,
that though it is intersected by many paths,
you might lose yourself half-a-dozen times
within an hour; if it be evening, the nightingales
in the thickets of Monksgrove have commenced
their chorus, and the town of Chertsey,
down below, is seen to its full extent, its
church tower toned into beauty by the rich
light of the setting sun, while through the trees
and holly thickets you obtain glimpses of the
Guildford and Leatherhead hills, so softly blue,
that they meet and mingle with the sky.</p>

<a name="fig12" id="fig12"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image06.png" width="644" height="691" alt="Illustration: GATE OF FOX'S HOUSE." title="GATE OF FOX'S HOUSE." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">GATE OF FOX'S HOUSE.</div></div>

<a name="fig13" id="fig13"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image07.png" width="400" height="544" alt="Illustration: SUMMER HOUSE IN FOX'S GARDEN." title="SUMMER HOUSE IN FOX'S GARDEN." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">SUMMER HOUSE IN FOX'S GARDEN.</div></div>

<a name="fig14" id="fig14"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image08.png" width="427" height="536" alt="Illustration: TEMPLE OF FRIENDSHIP." title="TEMPLE OF FRIENDSHIP." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">TEMPLE OF FRIENDSHIP.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Those who feel no interest in monkish
chronicles, may reverence St. Anne's Hill,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page151">[pg 151]</span><a name="Pg151" id="Pg151" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
because of its having been the favorite residence
of Charles James Fox, the contemporary
of Pitt and Burke and Sheridan and
Grattan, at a period when men felt strongly
and spoke eloquently. The site of the house
on the south-eastern site of the hill is extremely
beautiful, and it is much regretted in
the neighborhood that it finds so little favor
in the heart of its present noble proprietor.
The grounds are laid out with much taste;
there is a noble cedar planted by Mrs. Fox
when only the size of a wand. The statesman's
widow survived her husband more than
thirty-six years, but never outlived her friends
or her faculties. There is a temple dedicated
to Friendship, which was erected to perpetuate
the coming of age of one of the late Lords
Holland; on a pedestal ornamented by a vase,
are inscribed some verses by General Fitzpatrick;
another placed by Mrs. Fox to mark a<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page152">[pg 152]</span><a name="Pg152" id="Pg152" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
favorite spot where Mr. Fox loved to muse,
is enriched by a quotation from the "Flower
and the Leaf," concluded by two graceful
stanzas:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Cheerful in this sequestered bower,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">From all the storms of life removed;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here Fox enjoyed his evening hour,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">In converse with the friends he loved.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And here these lines he oft would quote,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Pleased from his favorite poet's lay;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When challenged by the warbler's note,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">That breathed a song from every spray."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At the bottom of the garden is a grotto,
which must have once possessed many attractions,
and above it there is a pretty little
quaint chamber that was used as a tea-room,
when, according to the custom of the time,
the English drank tea by daylight; it is adorned
by painted glass windows; there are portraits
of the Prince of Wales and Mr. Fox,
when both were looking their best, and the
balcony in front commands a delicious view
of the surrounding country.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The peasantry are still loud in their praise
of "Madam Fox;" and some remember with
gratitude the education they received at her
school, and love to tell how the old lady was
drawn there at "feast times," to see how they
all looked in their new dresses. She certainly
retained her sympathy with the young, and
put away the feelings and habits of old age
with a determined hand, for it is said, when
she was eighty she took lessons on the harp.
The present generation remember personally
nothing of the great statesman; he has become
history to us, and we must look to history,
garbled as it always is, and always will
be, by the opinions and feelings of its writers,
to determine the position of Charles
James Fox in the annals of his country.
Those who were admitted to his society have
written with enthusiasm of his social qualities,
and bestow equal praise on his brilliant
talents, his affability of manner, and the generosity
of his disposition. He was the third
son of Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland,
and his mother was the eldest daughter of
Charles, second Duke of Richmond, and consequently
great-granddaughter to Charles II.;
the material descent is one of blotted royalty,
of which a man like Fox could not have
been proud. His academic course was unmarked
by any of those honors of which Oxford
men are so ambitious, and yet, like his
great rival, William Pitt, he became a statesman
before he was of age.</p>

<a name="fig15" id="fig15"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image09.png" width="640" height="389" alt="Illustration: FOX'S ARBOR." title="FOX'S ARBOR." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">FOX'S ARBOR.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At St. Anne's Hill he enjoyed as many intervals
of repose and tranquillity as could fall
to a statesman's lot; in the time of wars and
tumults, how he must have luxuriated in its
delicious quiet, surrounded by friends who
dearly loved him; and swayed only for good
by the wife who (although it is known that
her early intimacy with him was such as prevented
her general recognition in society) according
to the evidence of all who knew her,
was the minister only to his better thoughts
and nobler ambitions, and who weaned him
from nearly all the follies and vices which
stained his youth and earlier manhood. Various
causes led to his death, before age had
added infirmities to disease. He died at Chiswick
House, and his last words, addressed to
Mrs. Fox were, "I die happy." It is said he
wished to be buried at Chertsey, but his remains
were interred in Westminister Abbey.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The brilliant Sheridan pronounced so elegant
an eulogium on his character, that it is
pleasant to think of it in those shades where,
as we have said, he so often sought and found
repose: "When Mr. Fox ceased to live, the
cause of private honor and friendship lost its
highest glory, public liberty its most undaunted
champion, and general humanity its
most active and ardent assertor. In him was
united the most amiable disposition with the
most firm and resolute spirit; the mildest
manners, with the most exalted mind. With
regard to that great man it might, indeed, be
well said, that in him the bravest heart and
most exalted mind sat upon the seat of gentleness."</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page153">[pg 153]</span><a name="Pg153" id="Pg153" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<a name="fig16" id="fig16"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image10.png" width="640" height="433" alt="Illustration: COWLEY'S SEAT." title="COWLEY'S SEAT." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">COWLEY'S SEAT.</div></div>

<a name="fig17" id="fig17"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image11.png" width="640" height="456" alt="Illustration: COWLEY'S HOUSE—STREET FRONT." title="COWLEY'S HOUSE—STREET FRONT." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">COWLEY'S HOUSE—STREET FRONT.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There is, at all events, an imaginary pleasure
in turning from the wearing out turmoil
of a statesman's life, to what the world believes
the tranquil dreams of a poet's existence.
But there are few things the worldling
so little understands as literary industry,
or so little sympathizes with as literary care.
We have no inclination to over-rate either its
toils or its pleasures, and perhaps no life is
more abundantly supplied with both. Its
toils must be evident to any who have noted
the increasing literary labor which is necessary
to produce the ordinary sources of comforts;
but its high and holy enjoyments are
not so apparent; they are so different from
those of almost all others as not to be easily
explained or understood; but above all other
gifts, the marvellous gift of poesy is a distinction
conferred by the Almighty, and should
be acknowledged and treasured as such. We
know little of a poet's studies except by their
imperishable produce, and it is a common but
ill-founded prejudice to imagine regularity
or diligence incompatible with high genius.
Genius is neither above law, nor opposed to
it; but as many have a poetic taste and temperament
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">without</span></span> the inspiration, the world is
apt to mistake the eccentricity of the pretender
for the outward and visible sign of
genius. Whether or not the poet of the
Porch-house of Chertsey had the actual poetic
fire we do not venture to determine.
Abraham Cowley takes a prominent position,
amongst the poets of our land, and the eventful<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page154">[pg 154]</span><a name="Pg154" id="Pg154" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
times in which he lived, and his participation
in their tumults give him additional
interest in all the relations of his anxious and
not over-happy life. It is recorded of him
that he became a poet in consequence of
reading the Faery Queene, which chance
threw in his way while yet a child. In allusion
to this, Dr. Johnson gave his well-known
definition of genius: "A mind of large
general powers, accidentally determined to
some particular direction." We had almost
dared to say this is rather the definition of a
philosopher than of one who comprehended
the spirituality of a marvellous gift. Abraham
Cowley—the posthumous son of a London
grocer—owed much to his mother. She,
by her exertions, procured him a classical
education at Westminster School. She lived
to see him loved, honored, and great,
and what was better still, and more uncommon,
grateful. At the age of fifteen he published
a volume called "Poetic Blossoms,"
which he afterwards described as "commendable
extravagancies in a boy." He obtained
a scholarship in Trinity College, Cambridge,
in 1686, and there took his degree;
but was ejected by the Parliament, and thence
removed to Oxford. Shortly after, he followed
the Queen Henrietta to Paris, as Secretary
to the Earl of St. Albans, and was employed
in the court of the exiles in the most
confidential capacity. In 1656 he returned
to England, and was immediately arrested as
a suspected spy. He submitted quietly—the
royalists thought too quietly—to the dominion
of the Protector, but his whole life proved
that he was no traitor. At the Restoration,
that great national disappointment, his claims
upon the ungrateful monarch were met by a
taunt and a false insinuation—he was told
that his pardon was his reward! Wood said,
"he lost the place by certain enemies of the
Muses;" certain "friends of the Muses," however,
procured for him the lease of the Porch-house
and farm at Chertsey, held under the
Queen, and the great desire of his life—solitude—was
obtained.</p>

<a name="fig18" id="fig18"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image12.png" width="640" height="467" alt="Illustration: COWLEY'S HOUSE—GARDEN FRONT." title="COWLEY'S HOUSE—GARDEN FRONT." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">COWLEY'S HOUSE—GARDEN FRONT.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The place still seems a meet dwelling for a
poet, and is, perhaps, even more attractive
to strangers than St. Anne's hill. The porch,
which caused his residence to be called "The
Porch-house," was taken down during the
last century by the father of its present proprietor,
the Rev. John Crosby Clarke, and
the house is now known as "Cowley House."<a id="noteref_1" name="noteref_1" href="#note_1"><span class="tei tei-noteref"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">1</span></span></a>
It is situated near the bridge which crosses a
narrow and rapid stream, in a lonely part of
Guildford Street; a latticed window which
overhangs the road is the window of the
room in which the poet expired; on the outside
wall Mr. Clarke has recorded his reason
for removing the porch. "The porch of this
house, which projected ten feet into the highway,
was taken down in the year 1786, for
the safety and accommodation of the public."</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Here the last accents flowed from Cowley's tongue."</div>
</div>

<a name="fig19" id="fig19"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image13.png" width="527" height="798" alt="Illustration: STAIRCASE—COWLEY'S HOUSE." title="STAIRCASE—COWLEY'S HOUSE." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">STAIRCASE—COWLEY'S HOUSE.</div></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The appearance of the house from Guildford<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page155">[pg 155]</span><a name="Pg155" id="Pg155" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Street, is no index to its size or conveniences.<a id="noteref_2" name="noteref_2" href="#note_2"><span class="tei tei-noteref"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">2</span></span></a>
You enter by a side gate, and the
new front of the dwelling is that of a comfortable
and gentlemanly home; the old part
it is said was built in the reign of James the
First, and what remains is sufficiently quaint
to bear out the legend; the old and new are
much mingled, and the modern part consists
of one or two bed-rooms, a large dining-room,
and a drawing-room, commanding a delicious
garden view, the meanderings of the stream,
and a long tract of luxuriant meadows, terminated
by the high and richly timbered
ground of St. Anne's Hill. A portion of the
old stairway is preserved, the wood is not as
has been stated oak, but sweet chestnut. One
of the rooms is panelled with oak, and Cowley's
study is a small closet-like chamber, the
window looking towards St. Anne's Hill. It
is never difficult to imagine a poet in a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">small
chamber</span></span>, particularly when his mind may imbibe
inspiration from so rich and lovely a
landscape. Beside the group of trees, beneath
whose shadow the poet frequently sat,
there is a horse chestnut of such exceeding
size and beauty, that it is worthy a pilgrimage,
and no lover of nature could look upon
it without mingled feelings of reverence and
affection.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Here then amid such tranquil scenes, and
such placid beauty, the "melancholy Cowley,"
passed the later days of big anxious existence;
here we may fancy him receiving Evelyn and
Denham, the poets and men of letters of his
troubled day, who found the disappointments
of courtly life more than their philosophy
could endure. Here his friendly biographer,
Doctor Spratt, cheered his lonely hours.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Cowley was one of those fortunate bards
who obtain fame and honor during life. His
learning was deep, his reading extensive, his
acquaintance with mankind large. "To him,"
says Denham in his famous elegy,</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"To him no author was unknown,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Yet what he wrote was all his own."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">His biographer adds, "There was nothing
affected or singular in his habit, or person, or
gesture; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">he understood the forms of good
breeding enough to practise them without burdening
himself or others</span></span>." This indeed is the
perfection of good breeding and good sense.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Having obtained, as we have said, the
Porch-house at Chertsey, his mind dwelt
with pleasure—a philosophic pleasure—upon<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page156">[pg 156]</span><a name="Pg156" id="Pg156" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the hereafter, which he hoped for in this life
of tranquillity, and the silent labor he so dearly
loved; but he was destined to prove the
reality of his own poesy:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Oh life, thou <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">Nothing's</span></span> younger brother,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">So <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">like</span></span> that one might take one for the other."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The career of Abraham Cowley was never
sullied by vice,<a id="noteref_3" name="noteref_3" href="#note_3"><span class="tei tei-noteref"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">3</span></span></a> he was loyal without being
servile, and at once modest, independent and
sincere. His character is eloquently drawn
by Doctor Spratt. "He governed his passions
with great moderation, his virtues were never
troublesome or uneasy to any, whatever
he disliked in others he only corrected by the
silent reproof of a better practice."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He died at Chertsey on the 28th of July,
1667, and was interred in Westminster Abbey.
A throng of nobles followed him to
his grave, and the worthless king who had
deserted him is reported to have said, that
Mr. Cowley had not left a better man behind
him in England.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is said the body of Cowley was removed
from Chertsey by water, thus making the
Thames he loved so well, the highway to his
grave; there is something highly poetic in
this idea of a funeral, so still and solemn,
with the oars dropping noiselessly in the blue
water. Pope in allusion to it, says:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"What tears the river shed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When the sad pomp along his banks was led;"</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">which rather inclines us to the belief, that in
this, as in many other instances, the poetic
reading is not the true one,</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"The muses oft in lands of vision play:"</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">but the fact that he died at Chertsey, as much
respected as a man, as he was admired as a
poet, is certain, and his house is often visited
by strangers, who are permitted to see his
favorite haunts by the kindness of its proprietor,
who honors the spot so hallowed by
memories of "the melancholy Cowley:"—he
who considered and described "business" as:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"The contradiction to his fate."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But we must postpone our farther rambles
for the present.</p>

<a name="fig20" id="fig20"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image14.png" width="640" height="763" alt="Illustration: TREES ON ST ANNE'S HILL." title="TREES ON ST ANNE'S HILL." /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">TREES ON ST ANNE'S HILL.</div></div>

<div class="tei tei-tb"> </div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Chertsey loses half its romantic interest by
the intrusion of the progressive agents of our
time—our noisy time, of which the spirit willingly
brooks no souvenirs of monastic repose.
The old quaint quiet town has now its railroad,
and the shades of its heroes have departed.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page157">[pg 157]</span><a name="Pg157" id="Pg157" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<a name="toc21" id="toc21"></a>
<a name="pdf22" id="pdf22"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">TRAUGOTT BROMME ON THE UNITED STATES OF NORTH AMERICA,
TEXAS AND THE COLONIES.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We have at different times, by reviews
or translations, endeavored to give our
readers some idea of what people think of us,
in continental Europe. But there are two
sides to every thing—or there is an universal
dualism, as Emerson declares—which is perfectly
true as to the method which might be
adopted in the execution of this self-imposed
task. One class of readers understand by
the word <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">people</span></span> the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">beau monde</span></span>, and would
have us invariably follow the school of the
Countesses Hahn-Hahn or Ladies Blessington
or Milords Fitz-Flummery, contented if we
have but a fair name in society. Another and
more reasonable class would be satisfied to
know the opinion of the literati, or perhaps
the poets, particularly when they do fit homage
to our "grand old woods," and to Niagara.
Others regard with most respect a plain
literal account of our branches of industry—our
railroads, factories, and canals. They
would have the country judged purely from a
mechanical or practical point of view—contenting
themselves as to other matters with
the reflection. "Oh, sensible people care very
little about any thing else. If they know
what we produce, and what our resources
are, they'll understand and respect us sufficiently."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Now the opinion of each of these classes
has its weight, and though not of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">greatest</span></span>
ultimate importance, is always to be respected.
If we were questioned as to the views
of which of them we yielded full regard, we
should candidly say, "to none." It is the
general, universal opinion, of a nation at large
that we deem authoritative, and none other. It
is that popular opinion so readily yet often so
falsely formed (at times from trifles of almost
incredible levity), and which when once fairly
developed, is well-nigh ineradicable. In a
word, it is to the views of the people.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We propose, as opportunity shall offer, to
make our readers familiar with the writings
of all these different classes of travellers—and
in the present article, we shall make
a few extracts from a work interesting, as
having probably contributed more than any
other to a general knowledge of the United
States in Germany. It is the book which has
had the greatest currency among all classes,
but particularly with the lower order of readers
and emigrants.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Before proceeding, however, to the work
itself, it may be as well to answer a question
which has perhaps been suggested to the
minds of a certain class of readers. Of what
great use, after all, is this nervous regard as
to the opinion of the world? Is not our character
established—are not our characteristics
known, to the uttermost corners of the earth?
To which question we may answer, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Not quite</span></span>.
In avoiding that ridiculous sensitiveness which
prompts so many Americans to feel personally
insulted by the weak remarks of every
wandering ignoramus, we would by no means
fall into the opposite error of attaching no
importance whatever to the good opinion or
the degree of consciousness as to our existence
entertained by the world at large.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Should any feel disposed to smile at such
an expression, as "the consciousness of our
existence," we will take the liberty of citing
a few curious instances, for the authenticity
of which we assume the entire responsibility—instances
which may perhaps astonish a
few even of the better informed. There are
in many districts (not altogether provincial)
of Italy and France great numbers, who
would not even in America be classed as <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">ignorant</span></span>
in regard to other matters, who have
not the remotest idea as to the nature or geography
of our country. An instance has
come to our knowledge of an intelligent Hungarian
who, by intercourse with the world,
had acquired a fluency in five languages, and
who inquired of an American gentleman if his
country were not situated somewhere in England.
The late Mr. Cooper, when placing
his daughters at a celebrated seminary on the
continent, found a great curiosity had been
created by the rumor that they were coming,
some supposing they were black, some that
they were copper-colored, and all unprepared
to see American girls looking for all the world
like the young German ladies. We have
heard of a similar instance in which an English
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">gentleman</span></span>—a Cambridge graduate—inquired
of an American what was the current
language of the United States. Lastly, we
may cite the case of an English author, well
known to our own public, and favorably
mentioned not long since in these pages, who
was under the impression that owing to the
great emigration from Germany, the English
language must with us, in a very few years,
yield to that of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Vaterland</span></span>. Now our
commercial and industrial relations are seriously
hindered by this absurd ignorance of
America, which in a word prevails to such
an extent, that we have known an American,
who—probably from having been over-questioned
and speered at in New England—had
imbibed such a wholesome hatred of inquisitiveness,
that he wished the French government
would hang up, for the benefit of all
concerned, the following list of questions,
with satisfactory answers annexed, in all the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cafés</span></span> of the politest nation in Europe:</p>

<table summary="This is a list." class="tei tei-list" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em"><tbody><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">Whether America is an island or a continent?</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">What is the color of its inhabitants?</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">What language do they speak?</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">Have they a religion and what is it?</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">What is the state of their morals and cookery?</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">Have they a correct state of feeling as regards the opera?</td></tr></tbody></table>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The reader is not to infer that this is the
general state of knowledge regarding our
country. But it is worth nothing as a curious
illustration of the vast number of individuals
who derive their ideas, not from what
is going on at the present day, or from available
sources of information, but from the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page158">[pg 158]</span><a name="Pg158" id="Pg158" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
antiquated views of a by-gone generation.
And we trust it will not be deemed inappropriate
that we here speak a word of the
want of opportunities of acquiring very general
information under which the ordinary
readers of continental Europe suffer. With
all their libraries, all their immense arrays of
magazines and journals, we find among them
an apathy in regard to the world without (to
the Fan-Qui), which appears incredible until
we reflect on the deadening influences of the
censorship, which views with distrust all information
in regard to the Land of Liberty.
We are not aware, throughout the whole of
continental Europe, of a single publication so
thoroughly cosmopolite in its character, so
general in the scope of its information, or
which is so universally disseminated among
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">all</span></span> classes of readers, as <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The International</span></span>;
and we trust we do not go too far when we
assert, that it is to an extended sale of periodical
publications somewhat approaching it
in the concentration and dissemination of
news from the world at large, that our countrymen
owe that superior intelligence and
citizen-of-the-world character which distinguish
them from the insular Briton, self-important
Frenchman, or abstracted German.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The work from which we propose to make
some extracts, is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Traugott Bromme</span></span>'s <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hand
und Reisebuch für Auswanderer nach den
Vereinigten Staaten</span></span> (or Traugott Bromme's
Journey and Handbook for Emigrants to the
United States). As we have already stated,
no work on America is at the present day
more familiarly known to that class of readers
to whom it is addressed. Certain remarks
on the present condition of German emigration
with which it is prefaced, may not be
devoid of interest to our readers, though not
constituting a part of such observations as we
have more particularly referred to:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"There is, it appears, implanted in every man
an impulse to advance and better his condition—an
impulse caused by poverty, dependent circumstances,
or pressure from every side, vexing at
times even the highest in rank, and which is the
cause why thousands leave their fatherland, to
seek afar a now home, and hundreds of thousands
cast around them disturbed and anxious glances,
restrained only by hard poverty, which imprisons
them at home. Such is very generally the case
at present in our own country, where—despite the
political concessions of March in the year 1848, of
the published original privileges of the German
people, and of the promising prospect of a free
and united Germany, with a concluding general
empire—emigration appears to be by no means on
the decrease." "These emigrants of the present
day consist not as formerly of poor people of the
lower orders, who turn their backs on the German
fatherland, or liberal declaimers, dreaming of an
ideal of freedom which could scarcely be realized
in Utopia, but of sober excellent families of the
middle class, who, free from all delusive fancies,
do not expect to find in the western world wealth
and honorable offices, but desire only to inhabit
a land, wherein they may dwell quietly and
happily with their children." "What the German
wants is </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">room</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">—a new broad field for his abilities—and
this America extends to him in unbounded
space. No one at the present day hopes to obtain
hills of gold without labor, but every one knows
that the far more estimable treasure of perfect independence,
or to speak more correctly, of perfect
</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">self-dependence</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, with the prospect of a future free
from care, may in America be obtained at the cost
of a few years of earnest, honest industry. And
what, to the man oppressed in his fatherland by
all the cares incident upon the obtaining a bare
subsistence, is two or three or even </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">four</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> years of
hard work, when compared to a whole life of poverty
and misery?"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After accurately sketching the extreme
misery and poverty oppressing the inhabitants
of many districts of Germany, of late years
sadly increased by the falling off in manufactures
since the political disturbances, our author
proceeds to set forth the advantages offered
by America:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"That most emigrants should rather look to
America, than Poland, Russia, Servia, or Siebenburgen,
is natural enough, since all of these countries
together cannot offer so many attractions as
America. Where on earth is there such a vast
array of unoccupied lands, offered at such a moderate
price—land so cheap that in many districts
twenty or thirty and even more acres, covered
with wood, are given at a price for which a single
acre of similar land is sold in Germany?"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The richness of the soil, the excellence of
the climate, and the demand for labor, are
then described; to which, as the greatest inducement,
he adds the fact that in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">America</span></span>
the fullest "liberty of labor and mechanical
calling or trade," is allowed. Also, that the
taxes are so light that an industrious man is
able not only to live, but even to lay up something
for his old age, or his children, or to
employ in the extension of his business.</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"For as there exists in America no standing
army, its inhabitants may retain their children, as
the best possible assistants in labor, and train,
govern, and discipline them as can only properly
done under the eye of a parent. Furthermore,
in that country every one is permitted to enjoy
the fullest civil and religious liberty. These are
the advantages to be expected from an emigration
to America, </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">and he who anticipates more will find
himself bitterly deceived</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">. But a man who can be
content with this, and can live actively, moderately,
and frugally, will here, better than in any
other land in the world, ultimately attain to happiness
and fortune. In times like ours, when
every branch of industry is crowded, when tender
parents think with grief and trouble on the future
prospects of their children, there are for the emigrant
no other resources save those held out by
a full and bountiful nature, and no means of livelihood
which may be so certainly depended upon
as those afforded by agriculture. Here it is that
industry throws open the widest field, and affords
the fullest opportunity of doing good."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the following extract, our author proceeds
to set forth the national character of
the American:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"The national character of the American has
been greatly misunderstood; few travellers seem,</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page159">[pg 159]</span><a name="Pg159" id="Pg159" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
in fact, to have understood it, since they mention
it as something as new and unfounded as the
country itself, and yet it is so well confirmed—so
well established in every elevated and noble characteristic
of the human race, that it may confidently
be placed in comparison with that of the
most celebrated nations of antiquity. Springing
originally from England, they have the pride and
manly confidence of the Briton, for through their
ancestry they claim an equal share of all which
gives dignity to those inheriting glory and a great
name. Their forefathers were those brave religious
pilgrims who were transferred by British
laws (or rather by old German) and British genius
to the shores of the new world—to there give to
those laws and genius an immortality. Building
still further on this new land, they opened the
temple of the Lord to all his followers, and received
with open arms all the unfortunate or oppressed
exiles of Europe. For the first time in
reality in this world they flung wide the flag of
truth and freedom—fought under its folds an unequal
fight against the mightiest power in the
world—and overcame it. And when a second
time they armed themselves to combat with England,
they again came forth unconquered from the
contest. Reason enough this for the national pride
of the American, for nothing could more naturally
cause a certain degree of self-content than to belong
to a nation whose brilliant deeds in war as
in politics, in commerce as in manufactures, have
astonished the world. A second and not less characteristic
trait of the American is seen in a certain
earnestness, which appears to strangers to indicate
a want of sociable feeling—and yet perhaps
in </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">no</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> country is true noble sociability as developed
in domestic life, so much at home, as in America.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Accustomed from his cradle to reflect on himself
and his circumstances, the American from the
first instant of his entry into active life is ever on
the watch to improve their condition. Is he rich, and
consequently more directly interested in the common
wealth, then every new law, every change in
the personal direction of the government, awakes in
him a new care for the future, while on the other
hand, if poor, then every change in the state may
perhaps afford him a new opportunity of bettering
his condition. Therefore he is ever wide awake—ever
looking out for the future, not as a mere
spectator, but as one playing a part and occupied
in maintaining the present state of affairs, or in
improving them. The entire mass of the population
is continually in a state of political agitation,
and, urged by hope of their aid or fear of their
power, we see every one continually seeking for
expressions of public opinion. No man is so rich
or powerful that he need not fear them—none so
wretched and poor but that he may venture to
entertain the hope of being through them aided
and relieved. Public opinion is in America the
mightiest organ of justice—shielding no one, from
the president to the simplest citizen, and proceeds,
mowing, casting down, or grinding to powder all
things which oppose it and deserve its condemnation.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"This condition of perpetual agitation gives
the American an appearance of ceaseless restlessness,
but it is in reality the true ground of peace
and content. </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">The American has no time to be
discontented</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, and this is the most praiseworthy
point of their constitution and popular life. The
republican has necessarily as many severe and
arduous duties to fulfil as the inhabitants of any
monarchy—but their fulfilment is gratifying and
consoling—for it is allied to the consciousness of
power. The American has no desire for the quiet
temper of the European, and least of all for the
silent happiness of the German, which last, alas!
appears since the dissipation of the intoxication
of the Revolution of March, 1848, to consist, as
far as the great mass of the population is concerned,
merely in the egotistic repose of self-sufficiency,
weakness, and ignorance. The American finds
repose only in his house, in his family circle, and
among his children; all without the walls of that
home is an incessant working and striving, in politics
as in trade—by the streets and canals, as in
the woods of the West. Different as the elements
are from which the inhabitants of the United
States are formed, and different as the circumstances
may be under which they live, there still
prevails among them a certain unity of character,
an equanimity of feeling, which it would be difficult
to parallel, resulting perhaps from the very
heterogeneousness and mixture of elements itself,
since no one element allows to another pre-eminence.
They have all something in common in
their appearance, which gives them the air almost
of relations—something in their gait and manners
which declares them to be other than English,
Germans, or French. Through the entire land,
through every class, there is disseminated a certain
refinement of manner, an appreciation of
decency and nobility of character, which springs
from a consciousness of their own rights and respect
for mankind. Even emigrants, in America,
soon learn to cast aside their rough prejudices as
regards caste, for the proud affability of the aristocratic,
the vanity of the small citizen, the want
of confidence and ease in the mechanic, the slavish
servitude and snappish insolence of liveried servants,
find in America no place. </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Man</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> is there
esteemed only as </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">man</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">—only ability gains honor—and
where </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">that</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> is, and there alone, can true
nobility be found. No one there inquires who a
man is, or who were his parents, but 'What can
he </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">do</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, what are his capabilities, and what can he
produce?' Rank and caste are in America unknown.
Every man feels his freedom and independence,
and expresses himself accordingly.
Even the servant is a free man, who has, it is true,
hired his service, but not his entire existence.
The American is polite, but over-refined, unmeaning
compliments form no part of his manners, nor
does he expect them from others. No man vexes
or troubles himself for another, in consequence of
which we find in American society very little
stiffness and reserve, yet we find in every respect
that the very highest regard is there paid to propriety
and decency—particularly as regards the
female sex, since in no country, not even in England,
do ladies enjoy such respect and regard as
in the United States. Ever depending upon, and
confiding in himself, the American is in his manners
free, open, and unreserved. The mass of the
people is possessed of intelligence and spirit,
though not so scientifically educated as in Europe,
and a higher degree of intelligence penetrates
even the lower class, who consequently form a
marked and singular contrast with those of
like rank in Europe. It is not from being versed
in the higher branches of abstract learning and</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page160">[pg 160]</span><a name="Pg160" id="Pg160" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
science, but from the great amount of that direct
practical knowledge which exerts the greatest influence
in making life happy, that the Americans
are distinguished from other nations, and for the
acquisition of which they have made better provision
and preparation than any other people.
As yet too deeply occupied with the Needful and
Important, they are compelled to leave the development
of the higher branches to the care and
noble generosity of individuals. But a glance at
the sums which are annually devoted to the establishment
and maintenance of schools and universities,
will suffice to evidence the liberality with
which the proper education of the people is cared
for in the United States. Knowledge is indeed
esteemed, but only according to its use and applicability
to the wants of life; so that a practical
tanner is there worth more than a learned pedant.
</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Wealth, or rather wealth allied to ability and universality
of talent, is there more highly esteemed
than learning,</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> while hospitality, patriotism, and
toleration, allowing every one to think and feel as
he likes, are universal characteristics. So that in
the United States nothing is wanting to the attainment
of a true civil and social freedom, even
though the means thereto are not invariably correctly
understood or admitted (as is indeed the
case by us), and though—since men are every
where subject to the same weaknesses—they
measure happiness rather by the standard of their
own intelligence and virtues, than by fortune and
nature, which latter, impartially considered, is the
basis of the physical happiness of the American.
That, however, which constitutes his </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">moral</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> happiness
is this; that in his country, domestic life enjoys
the true supremacy, </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">and to this, public life
and the state are subordinate</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">. It is true that the
American statesmen have fallen into the same
error as the European—</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">id est</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, to believe that
without </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">them</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> the people could never prosper, and
still live in the belief that home-happiness hangs
on them, their theories and arts of governing;
but the most superficial glance teaches that if wise
laws are able to effect more for the happiness of
man than they can bring about, still no one should
</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">there</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> attempt to draw happiness from such a
source when popular and private life have
combined to bestow it. But should the happiness
of the Americans ever be derived from this side, it
will be more sensible to assume that the foundation
thereof will be the release from that which
in the recent culture has passed for the deepest
political wisdom. The true secret of all the good
fortune of America lies in the favorable condition
of external things. 'It is not with them as in
Europe, where the poor can only better their condition
or become rich by making the rich poor,
for therein lies the source of an infinite strife
which hath been combated for centuries, with the
axioms of religion and morals. But in America,
men when striving to better their condition, instead
of becoming enemies and turning their arms
against each other, strive with </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Nature</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, and wring
from her boundless stores that wealth which she
so bountifully affords!'"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We have made these quotations less on account
of any merit which they possess, than
to give our readers an idea of the general
opinion prevailing in Germany in regard to
our country; and to confirm an assertion
made in a recent number of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">International</span></span>,
that in no country in Europe are we so impartially
and favorably judged. There is one
particular, however, in which we find this
book worthy of especial praise. The author
highly commends the flourishing state of religion
in the United States, declaring that we
are in this respect superior to the Germans,
and that on the Sabbath the churches are
filled to a degree unknown in Europe. It is
from our deep-rooted attachment to domestic
life, and our observance of religion, that he
correctly deduces our true happiness, as separated
from the natural advantages of the
country. It is greatly to be desired that the
majority of his countrymen resident in America,
would allow themselves to be impressed
in a similar manner as to the advantages of
piety and Sabbath-keeping. There is in the
United States a vast number of German newspapers—conducted
we should imagine for the
greater part by unprincipled and worthless
adventurers of the red republican, socialist
stamp, who, despite the protection which they
here enjoy, incessantly and spitefully abuse
every institution to which they are really indebted
for their asylum among us, and most
of all our observation of the Sabbath, in a
style which entitles them to something severer
than mere contempt. But Herr Bromme
is right. Respect for morality and religion,
a due regard for the Sabbath, and a dependence
on the home-circle for pleasure and recreation,
are the surest safeguard of peace,
happiness, and prosperity.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc23" id="toc23"></a>
<a name="pdf24" id="pdf24"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">A VISIT TO THE FIRE WORSHIPPERS' TEMPLE AT BAKU.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In a recent number of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Russian Archives
for Scientific Information</span></span>, is an account
of a visit made by a Russian lady of distinction,
in company with her husband and sons,
to a temple of the Indian sect of Gebers, or
Fire Worshippers, near Baku, a city of Georgia,
lying on the Caspian Sea. We translate
this interesting narrative for the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">International</span></span>,
as follows:</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In order the better to enjoy the spectacle
of the fire, we chose the evening for our excursion
thither; but a thick fog came on,
which made the road difficult and dangerous.
When we finally reached the place it was
pitch dark; the flames were rising in beautiful
purity to the peaceful sky of night, and
the entire castle, within which was the temple,
seemed to be surrounded by a circle of
watch-fires. These were lighted by Persians
from the neighborhood, who were busy
burning lime and baking bread, dark forms
like those which worked on the tower of
Babel, and burnt lime for it. They were now
brought here by the ease and cheapness of
carrying on their occupations. All that is
necessary is to make a hole in the ground,
touch a burning coal to it, and an inexhaustible
flame rises forth like a spring. Behind
this range of little flames and fires, rose, in
the pale light, the dirty white walls of the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page161">[pg 161]</span><a name="Pg161" id="Pg161" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
castle, in the centre of which there flashed from
the summit of two lofty pillars great masses of
the purest, clearest, and keenest flame, which
were now bent down horizontally and wreathed
like serpents by the force of the wind, and
now rose perpendicularly to the sky, whose
dome they lighted up like two vast altar tapers.
We drove around the edifice, and stopped on
one side where there were no flames rising
from the earth. A fine rain was falling, but we
remained without while our guide went in to
announce us. He came back immediately
with a swarthy Hindoo. The sight of this
man impressed me strangely, and I forgot
that he belonged to a remote colony of a few
individuals, and asked myself if we had been
suddenly transported to India, or if India had
been brought up to the Caspian.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We went into the court-yard, in which
stands the temple, with its two fire-pillars.
About half way up hang a couple of large
bells, which the Hindoo sounded by way of
preparing us for what we were to see. There
was something fearful in the loud clangor,
and my boys crowded close beside me. Except
our party, no one was to be seen except
the swart Geber, in his white turban and
long brown robe, with just enough of a pair
of light blue trowsers visible to bring into distinctness
his naked black feet. His features
were noble, and his beard long and black.
He looked like a conjurer, like the lord of an
enchanted castle, summoning his spirits. The
hissing fire, as if obeying him, flashed up
more brightly at the crash of the bells; now
it was clear as day around us, and now it was
twilight as the wind lowered the flame. My
husband and sons and the guide who had
brought us to the place, were all dressed in
oriental costume, and I alone seemed to
belong to Europe. A shudder of home-sickness
came over me, and at every moment
I expected to see something monstrous, to
behold all the cruelties of a heathenish and
barbarous worship.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The interpreter now summoned us to
follow the Geber. We were told that the
castle was built by a rich Indian nabob, who
was a fire worshipper, and who, with his
followers, long inhabited it. Now, only three
Hindoos remain from that period of splendor.
But nature remains eternally the same, and
whether worshipped or not, the flames still
shine and awe the superstitious, and so great
is the fame of the place that many pilgrims
come yearly from distant India to pray, and
to have prayers said for them, here in the
visible presence of the primeval light.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At last we came to the cell of the priest,
and on his invitation entered it. We passed
through a low door, and down a few steps,
and found ourselves in a small, semicircular,
low, but very white room, with a floor of
mason-work, and a small altar in the centre.
Around the wall were seats, also of mason-work.
In the altar there was an opening as
large as a gun-barrel, from which rose a slender
flame that lighted the room very clearly.
There were other little openings on the sides
of the altar. The Hindoo took a wisp of
straw, lighted it, and touched these openings,
from which the most beautiful flames at once
issued. The children, who had never seen
gas lights, or at least did not remember them,
regarded all this as the most perfect witchery.
On a second altar, which, like the first, was
about the height of a common table, lay or
stood the idols and treasures of our priest.
Small steps led up to it, which were used
to hold muscles, stones, shells, and other
instruments employed in the sacred rites.
The idols were of metal, and ugly and monstrous,
like Chinese images. Beside these
figures, we were astonished to see crosses of
various forms and sizes. We asked the Geber
about them, and he answered with oriental
emphasis: "There is one God, and no one
has seen him; therefore every one adores
him after his own way, and represents him
after his own way." The reply was diplomatic
enough, and we could not ascertain
how the crosses had come there.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On the altar and its steps lay a great number
of singularly beautiful Indian stones,
which the boys wanted very much, but
which, in spite of our large offers, we could
not obtain. They were mementoes from the
distant fatherland, and possibly they served
as sacred ornaments for the little cell. There
were also several censers, lamps, and little
silver plates and salvers. The air was stifling
from the fumes of gas, and the heat was like
that of a vapor bath. The priest took from
the altar some pieces of red and white candied
sugar, held them, praying, before his idols,
sprinkled them with holy water, and handed
them to us on a silver plate.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A second Hindoo now came in, a tall old
man, whose name, as he told us, was Amintaas.
He invited us into his cell, which was
larger and differently arranged. In the centre
was a large kettle, set in mason-work,
with water in it, and a gas flame burning
under it; the altar was in another apartment
beyond, and separated from the first by a
low wall or fence, with a passage through.
Another apartment, similarly divided off,
was spread with carpets for sleeping. After
we had seen the stones, shells, and
idols, which were richer and more numerous
than in the former cell, the Hindoos
asked us if they should pray for us. We
agreed, and the ceremony began. A large
muscle shell was washed in the kettle, the
plates were set in order at the foot of the
altar, a censer began to smoke, the silver
plate with candied sugar was set over a lamp
Between two bells, whose handles were the
most monstrous figures of idols. These bells
Amintaas took and began to ring vehemently.
The other Hindoos stood behind him and
beat two big cymbals, accompanying this
noise with the most inhuman and frightful
howling that a man's lungs ever produced.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page162">[pg 162]</span><a name="Pg162" id="Pg162" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Still, there was method and a regular cadence
in it. Finally, they made a pause, bowed
before the images, murmuring softly, after
which they arranged the plates anew, and
sprinkled the sugar with holy water. My
husband whispered in my ear a line from
the conjuration in "Faust," and the whole of
that scene rushed vividly into my memory.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Meanwhile the lungs of the old Amintaas
had recovered their power, for he now seized
a conch shell, held it in both hands, and
with incredible strength blew long wild notes,
with scarce any thing like a tune. I grew
dizzy in listening to this clamor, and at once
understood what is meant by the heathen
making a "vain noise," This cannibalistic
music was kept up for a long time, and
seemed to form the climax of the sacred rites.
The finale was a combination of wild shouting,
banging of the cymbals, ringing and murmuring.
At last the concert was over, and we
breathed freely. Amintaas handed us the
candied sugar, and my husband laid down
two ducats in its place. They were received
with warm expressions of gratitude, and laid
upon the altar. We went out into the open
air, but the scene had changed. The lonely
castle was crowded with Persians who had
come from their lime-burning to see the Europeans.
Persian women were sitting around
by sundry little ovens of masonry, where, by
the help of gas flames, they baked their
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tsheuks</span></span>, thin cakes of unleavened bread.
Followed by the crowd, we were led a couple
of hundred steps from the castle to a spring
that was covered over; the cover was taken
off, and a bundle of burning straw thrown in,
when, crackling and hissing, sprung up a splendid
pillar of fire, vanishing in sparks like stars.
This beautiful spectacle lasted but for a moment,
and a quarter of an hour was necessary
to collect gas enough to repeat the experiment.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We returned to Baku in the rain, more
dead than alive. It was the eve of Easter.
The next morning, as I was sitting on the
sofa with the children, there came in a tall,
meagre Hindoo, with gray hair; he was
dressed in a white robe, and brought me
white and red sugar on a silver plate. He
was the chief priest from the temple of the
Gebers, and had come to Baku to see the
Easter festivities. We took a few grains of
his sugar, and I laid a silver rouble on the
plate. While he was making his bows for
this, my husband came in and told him,
partly in Tartar, partly in Russian, and partly
in pantomime, that we had been to his temple
the night before, and had prayers said there.
He asked at once, with eagerness, how much
we had given, and when he learned the sum,
asked for a certificate to that effect, as, without
it, the others would give him no part of
the money. We sent him away without
granting his request, for the two screamers
of the night previous had earned all we gave
them. We learned afterwards that the gifts
of visitors occasioned quarrels, and often
blows, in the romantic fire-castle. This disgusted
me, and yet it is not the fault of these
poor fellows. They must necessarily become
covetous, since they profane their most sacred
ceremonies as a means of living. They have
neither fields nor gardens, and the only thing
like vegetation that I saw was some lone
boxes in the court yard, filled with shrubs
and plants, remains, no doubt, from the time
of the Indian nabob, who sought in vain to
establish cultivation in a soil impregnated
with inflammable gas. However, I learned
to my sorrow that grass at least grows there,
for, in going through it to the spring, my feet
became perfectly wet.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The air of the locality does not seem to be
unwholesome for man. At least, the Geber
priests, who had lived there for years, were
perfect lions for health and vigor.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc25" id="toc25"></a>
<a name="pdf26" id="pdf26"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">A NEW PORTRAIT OF CICERO.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the third volume of his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the
Romans under the Empire</span></span>, just published
in London, Mr. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Merivale</span></span> gives some elaborate
pieces of character writing, one of which
has for its subject <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Cicero</span></span>. It is not good for
a man to think harshly of Cicero, and however
easy it may seem to be to condemn manifest
faults in his character, it is by no means
easy to be fair in the estimate we make. Mr.
Merivale sums up a character which has too
often been roughly put down as that of a
great writer and a little man, as follows:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Many writers, it has been remarked, have related
the death of Cicero, but Plutarch alone has
painted it. In the narrative here laid before him
the reader has the substance of this picturesque
account, together with some touches introduced
from collateral sources. In this, as in many other
massages of his Lives, the Greek biographer has
evidently aimed at creating an effect, and though
he seems to have been mainly guided by the genuine
narrative of Tiro, Cicero's beloved freedman,
we may suspect him of having embellished
it to furnish a striking termination to one of his favorite
sketches. Nevertheless the narrative is
mainly confirmed by a fragment of Livy's history,
which has fortunately been preserved. The Roman
author vies with the Greek in throwing dignity
and interest over the great statesman's end.
But in reviewing the uneven tenor of his career,
Livy concludes with the stern comment, "He bore
none of his calamities as a man should, except his
death." These are grave words. In the mouth
of one who had cast his scrutinizing glance over
the characters and exploits of all the heroes of the
great republic, and had learnt by the training of
his life-long studies to discriminate moral qualities
and estimate desert, they constitute the most important
judgment on the conduct of Cicero that
antiquity has bequeathed to us. Few indeed
among the Romans ever betrayed a want of resolution
in the face of impending death. But it was
in the endurance of calamity rather than the defiance
of danger that the courage of Cicero was
deficient. The orator, whose genius lay in the
arts of peace and persuasion, exhibited on more
than one occasion a martial spirit worthy of other
habits and a ruder training. In the contest with</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page163">[pg 163]</span><a name="Pg163" id="Pg163" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
Catilina he displayed all the moral confidence of
a veteran general: in the struggle with Antonius
he threw himself without reserve into a position
where there was no alternative but to conquer or
to perish. In the earlier conflict he had still his
fame to acquire, his proud ascendency to establish;
and the love of praise and glory inspired
him with the audacity which makes and justifies
its own success. But in the later, he courted danger
for the sake of retaining the fame he so dearly
prized. He had once saved his country, and
he could not endure that it should be said he had
ever deserted it. He loved his country; but it
wan for his own honor, which he could preserve,
rather than for his country's freedom, which he
despaired of, that he returned to his post when
escape was still possible. He might have remained
silent, but he opened the floodgates of his eloquence.
When indeed he had once launched himself
on the torrent he lost all self-command; he
could neither retrace nor moderate his career; he
saw the rocks before him, but he dashed himself
headlong against them. But another grave authority
has given us the judgment of antiquity,
that Cicero's defect was the want of steadfastness.
His courage had no dignity because it lacked consistency.
All men and all parties agreed that he
could not be relied upon to lead, to co-operate, or
to follow. In all the great enterprises of his party,
he was left behind, except that which the nobles
undertook against Catilina, in which they rather
thrust him before them than engaged with him on
terms of mutual support. When we read the vehement
claims which Cicero put forth to the honor
of association, however tardy, with the glories and
dangers of Cæsar's assassins, we should deem the
conspirators guilty of a monstrous oversight in
having neglected to enlist him in their design, were
we not assured that he was not to be trusted as a
confederate either for good or for evil.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Of all the characters of antiquity Cicero is undoubtedly
that with which we are most intimately
acquainted; for he alone has left to us the record
of his thoughts and actions for more than half
his public career in a voluminous mass of familiar
as well as political correspondence. No public
character probably could pass unscathed through
the fiery ordeal to which he has thus subjected
himself. Cicero, it must be avowed, is convicted
from his own mouth of vanity, inconstancy, sordidness,
jealousy, malice, selfishness, and timidity.
But on the other hand no character, public or private,
could thus bare its workings to our view
without laying a stronger claim to our sympathy,
and extorting from us more kindly consideration
than we can give to the mere shell of the human
being with which ordinary history brings us in
contact. Cicero gains more than he loses by the
confessions he pours into our ear. We read in his
letters what we should vainly search for in the
meagre pages of Sallust and Appian, in the captious
criticism of Dion, and even in the pleasant
anecdotes of his friendly biographer Plutarch, his
amiableness, his refined urbanity, his admiration
for excellence, his thirst for fame, his love of truth,
equity, and reason. Much indeed of the patriotism,
the honesty, the moral courage he exhibited,
was really no other than the refined ambition of
attaining the respect of his contemporaries and
bequeathing a name to posterity. He might not
act from a sense of duty, like Cato, but his motives,
personal and selfish as they in some sense
were, coincided with what a more enlightened
conscience would have felt to be duty. Thus
his proconsulate is perhaps the purest and most
honorable passage in his life. His strict and rare
probity amidst the temptations of office arrests
our attention and extorts our praise: yet assuredly
Cicero had no nice sense of honor, and was
controlled by no delicacy of sentiment, where public
opinion was silent, or a transaction strictly private.
His courting his ward Publilia for her
dower, his caressing Dolabella for the sake of getting
his debt paid, his soliciting the historian Lucceius
to color and exaggerate the merits of his
consulship, display a grievous want of magnanimity
and of a predominant sense of right. Fortunately
his instinct taught him to see in the constitution
of the republic the fairest field for the display
of his peculiar talents; the orator and the
pleader could not fail to love the arena on which
the greatest triumph of his genius had been or
were yet, as he hoped, to be acquired. And Cicero
indeed was not less ambitious than Cæesar or
Pompeius, Antonius or Octavius. To the pursuit
of fame he sacrificed many interests and friendships.
He was not less jealous of a rival in his
chosen career than any of the leaders of party and
candidates for popular favor. He could not endure
competition for the throne of eloquence and
the sceptre of persuasion. It was on this account
perhaps that he sought his associates among the
young, from whose rivalry he had nothing to fear,
rather than from his own contemporaries, the candidates
for the same prize of public admiration
which he aimed at securing for himself. From his
pages there flows an incessant stream of abuse of
all the great masters of political power in his
time; of Cæsar and Pompeius; of Crassus and
Antonius, not to mention his coarse vituperation
of Piso and Gabinius, and his uneasy sneers at the
impracticable Cato. We may note the different
tone which his disparagement assumes towards
these men respectively. He speaks of Cæsar with
awe, of Pompeius with mortification, with dislike
of Crassus, with bitter malice of Antonius. Cæsar,
even when he most deeply reprobates him, he personally
loves; the cold distrust of Pompeius vexes
his self-esteem; between him and Crassus there
subsists a natural antipathy of temperament: but
Antonius, the hate of his old age, becomes to him
the incarnation of all the evil his long and bitter
experience of mankind have discovered in the human
heart. While we suspect Cicero of injustice
towards the great men of his day, we are bound
also to specify the gross dishonesty with which he
magnifies his own merits where they are trivial,
and embellishes them where they are really important.
The perpetual recurrence to the topic of
his own political deserts must have wearied the
most patient of friends, and more than balanced
the display of sordidness and time-serving which
Atticus doubtless reflected back in his share of the
correspondence between them.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"But while Cicero stands justly charged with
many grave infirmities of temper and defects of
principle, while we remark with a sigh the vanity,
the inconstancy, and the ingratitude he so often
manifested, while we lament his ignoble subserviencies
and his ferocious resentments, the high
standard by which we claim to judge him is in itself
the fullest acknowledgment of his transcendent</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page164">[pg 164]</span><a name="Pg164" id="Pg164" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
merits. For undoubtedly had he not placed
himself on a higher moral level than the statesmen
and sages of his day, we should pass over
many of his weaknesses in silence, and allow his
pretensions to our esteem to pass almost unchallenged.
But we demand a nearer approach to
the perfection of human wisdom and virtue in one
who sought to approve himself the greatest of
their teachers. Nor need we scruple to admit that
the judgment of the ancients on Cicero was for the
most part unfavorable. The moralists of antiquity
required in their heroes virtues with which we
can more readily dispense: and they too had less
sympathy with many qualities which a purer religion
and a wider experience have taught us to
love and admire. Nor were they capable, from
their position, of estimating the slow and silent
effects upon human happiness of the lessons which
Cicero enforced. After all the severe judgments
we are compelled to pass on his conduct, we must
acknowledge that there remains a residue of what
is amiable in his character and noble in his teaching
beyond all ancient example. Cicero lived and
died in faith. He has made converts to the belief
in virtue, and had disciples in the wisdom of
love. There have been dark periods in the history
of man, when the feeble ray of religious instruction
paled before the torch of his generous philanthropy.
The praise which the great critic pronounced
upon his excellence in oratory may be
justly extended to the qualities of his heart, and
even in our enlightened days it may be held no
mean advance in virtue to venerate the master of
Roman philosophy."</span></p>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc27" id="toc27"></a>
<a name="pdf28" id="pdf28"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">LORD MAHON'S HISTORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Incomparably the best history of our
struggle for independence that has been
written by a foreigner is that of which we
have the larger portion in the just-published
fifth and sixth volumes of Lord <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mahon's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of England from the Peace of Utrecht</span></span>,
comprising the period from 1763 to 1780—from
the commencement of the popular discontents
until the virtual conclusion of the
war.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The character of Lord Mahon as a historian
has long been established. When Sismondi,
in 1842, had brought his History of France
down to the peace of Aix-la-Chapelle, he lamented
that he could no longer be guided by
Lord Mahon, and expressed a hope that his
"brilliant labors" would be continued. The
portion of his work on which the illustrious
Frenchman thus set the seal of his approval
has been reprinted in this country by the
Appletons, in two large volumes (embracing
the first four of the original impression), carefully
and judiciously edited by Professor Henry
Reed, of Philadelphia. It well indicates the
right of its author to a place with the best
British writers in this department. History
was never before written so brilliantly or profoundly
as in the last half century. Germany
in this period has boasted her Schiller, Niebuhr,
Von Hammer, Heeren, Ranke, and
two Mullers; France her Sismondi, Barrante,
Thierrys, Michelet, Mignet, Guizot, and
Thiers; England her Mitford, Arnold, Thirlwall,
Grote, Napier, Hallam, Mackintosh,
Macaulay, Palgrave, and Mahon; and we
have ourselves the noble names of Bancroft,
Prescott, and Irving, to send to the next ages.
Of the English authors we have mentioned,
we regard Lord Mahon as in many respects
the first; Hallam is a laborious and wise critic;
Thirlwall and Grote, in their province,
have greatly increased the fame of British
scholarship; and Macaulay, brilliant and picturesque
beyond any of his contemporaries,
has an unprecedented popularity, which will
last until the worthlessness of his opinions
and the viciousness of his style are more justly
appreciated than they are likely to be by
the mobs of novel readers who in this generation
have preferred him to James and Ainsworth.
Lord Mahon is the most legitimate
successor of the greatest historian of his country,
David Hume.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Although the chief subject of these new
volumes is the American war, the general
political history of England, from the decline
of the fortunes of Bute through the administration
of Grenville, Rockingham, Chatham,
the Duke of Grafton, and Lord North, is illustrated
and commented on as largely as the
special purpose of the author permitted; and
we have many striking passages respecting
Wilkes and his various persecutions, the Letters
of Junius and their authorship, and the
common intellectual and material progress of
the British empire. The spirit in which he regards
our Revolution is illustrated by the following
paragraph, on the rejection, by the
House of Peers, of the conciliatory Bill by
which Lord Chatham hoped, in 1775, to prevent
the threatened separation of the colonies:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"It may be proper, or at least pardonable, here
to pause for an inquiry, what probable issue might
have attended an opposite decision in the British
Parliament? If the ministers had been defeated
on this Bill, if, in consequence, they had resigned,
and it had in other hands been carried through,
would the Americans have accepted the measure
cheerfully and readily—would it for a long time
to come have closed the breach, and cemented the
union with the Mother Country? From all the
facts and testimonies then or since made public, I
answer without hesitation that it would. The
sword was then slumbering in its scabbard. On
both sides there were injuries to redress, but not
as yet bloodshed to avenge. It was only a quarrel.
It was not as yet a war. Even the boldest
leaders of that war in after years, whether in
council or the field, were still, in January, 1775,
the firm friends of colonial subordination. Washington
himself (and he at least was no dissembler—from
him, at least, there never came any promise
or assurance that did not deserve the most
implicit credit) had only a few months before presided
at a meeting of Fairfax County, in Virginia.
That meeting, while claiming relief of grievances,
had also at his instance adopted the following Resolve:—'That
it is our greatest wish and inclination,
as well as interest, to continue our connection
with, and dependence upon, the British Government.'</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page165">[pg 165]</span><a name="Pg165" id="Pg165" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
But further still, although the first Congress
was praised by Chatham for its moderate
counsels, and although the calmer voice of history
has ratified the praise, we learn that these moderate
counsels did not lag behind, but rather exceeded
and outran the prevailing sentiment in
many of the colonies. To this fact we find an unimpeachable
testimony in the letters of President
Reed, who, writing to a friend in strict confidence,
laments that 'The proceedings of Congress have
been pitched on too high a key for some of those
middle provinces.' With such feelings, how gladly,
how gratefully would they have welcomed the
hand of reconciliation stretched out by the Parliament
of England! It may be true, indeed, that
such feelings as these did not prevail in all, or
nearly all, the colonies. It may be true, especially,
that no amount of good government, of forbearance,
or of kindness, would have won back
Massachusetts. But herein lay, as I think, the especial
force and efficacy of Lord Chatham's scheme,
that it did not refer the questions of parliamentary
supremacy and colonial taxation to the decision of
any one province; but, as the Americans themselves
desired, to the decision of a Congress composed
from all the provinces, so that disaffection,
however firmly rooted here and there, would of
course be overpowered by a loyal and large majority.
Nor do I believe that the proposal of a
new grant to the Crown, and the consequent necessity
of increased taxation to the people, would
have interposed any serious obstacle. The load
of taxation on the colonies was at this period light
indeed: according to a calculation made by Lord
North in that very year, each inhabitant of England
paid in taxes, upon an average, not less than
twenty-five shillings annually; but each inhabitant
of British America no more than sixpence. The experience
of the closely-following Revolutionary war
proves how easily and readily, when their feelings
were involved, the Americans could raise far
greater supplies. And surely had Lord Chatham's
scheme prevailed, their feelings would have
been involved. They would have been pleased
and proud to show that their previous refusal to
pay taxes sprang from principle, and not from inability
or disaffection; and that, when once their
views of principle had been complied with, they
could contribute with no sparing hand to the exigencies
of their countrymen, and to the service of
their king."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The opinion of Lord Mahon that, even after
Burgoyne's surrender, and the treaty of alliance
between France and America, the colonies
might have been preserved, had Lord
Chatham lived and returned to office, we
think entirely erroneous. Our separation
from England, though there had been no
stamp act or tea tax, was inevitable.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Lord Mahon is exceedingly fond of personal
portraiture, in which he is sometimes very
successful. One of his most carefully-elaborated
performances in this way has for its subject
Washington, and in the dozen pages he
devotes to the analysis of the character of
the great chief he has displayed his best abilities,
though, we confess, without suggesting
any thing very novel. He dislikes Franklin,
and loses no opportunity of imputing to him
personal dishonesty. We think the influence
of Mr. William B. Reed's Life of President
Reed is traceable in almost every allusion
made by Lord Mahon to our philosopher.
Without further observation upon the qualities
of the work, we avail ourselves of the possession
of an early copy of it to present our
readers with some of the most striking passages
pencilled in a hasty reading.</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">WASHINGTON.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">During many years did Washington continue
to enjoy the pleasures and fulfil the duties
of an independent country gentleman. Field-sports
divided his time with the cultivation and
improvement of his land, and the sales of his tobacco;
he showed kindness to his dependents, and
hospitality to his friends; and having been elected
one of the House of Burgesses in Virginia, he
was, whenever that House met, exact in his attendance.
To that well-regulated mind nothing
within the course of its ordinary and appointed
avocations seemed unworthy of its care. His
ledgers and day-books were kept by himself: he
took note of all the houses where he partook of
hospitality, so that not even the smallest courtesies
might pass by unremembered; and until
his press of business in the Revolutionary War he
was wont every evening to set down the variations
of the weather during the preceding day.
It was also his habit through life, whenever he
wished to possess himself perfectly of the contents
of any paper, to transcribe it in his own
hand, and apparently with deliberation, so that no
point might escape his notice. Many copies of
this kind were after his death found among his
manuscripts.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">We may observe, however, that in the mind of
Washington punctuality and precision did not, as
we often find them, turn in any degree to selfishness.
On the contrary, he was rather careless of
small points where only his own comfort was concerned.
Thus he could seldom be persuaded to
take any remedy, or desist from any business,
whenever he caught a cold, but used to say, "let
it go as it came!"</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Nor yet was his constant regularity of habits
attended by undue formality of manner. In one
of his most private letters there appears given incidentally,
and as it were by chance, a golden rule
upon that subject:—"As to the gentlemen you
mention I cannot charge myself with incivility, or
what in my opinion is tantamount, ceremonious
civility.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">In figure Washington was thin and tall (above
six feet high), in countenance grave, unimpassioned,
and benign. An inborn worth, an unaffected
dignity, beamed forth in every look as in every
word and deed. His first appearance and address
might not convey the idea of superior talents;
such at least was the remark of his accomplished
countryman, Mr. Gallatin; but no man,
whether friend or enemy, ever viewed without respect
the noble simplicity of his demeanor, the utter
absence in him of every artifice and every affectation.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">It has been justly remarked that of General
Washington there are fewer anecdotes to tell than
perhaps of any other great man on record. So
equally framed were the features of his mind, so
harmonious all its proportions, that no one quality
rose salient above the rest. There were none of
those chequered ques, none of those warring emotions,
in which Biography delights. There was no</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page166">[pg 166]</span><a name="Pg166" id="Pg166" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
contrast of lights and shades, no flickering of the
flame; it was a mild light that seldom dazzled,
but that ever cheered and warmed. His contemporaries
or his close observers, as Mr. Jefferson
and Mr. Gallatin, assert that he had naturally
strong passions, but had attained complete mastery
over them. In self-control indeed he has
never been surpassed. If sometimes on rare occasions,
and on strong provocation, there was
wrung from him a burst of anger, it was almost
instantly quelled by the dominion of his will. He
decided surely, though he deliberated slowly;
nor could any urgency or peril move him from his
serene composure, his calm and clear-headed good
sense. Integrity and truth were also ever present
in his mind. Not a single instance, as I believe,
can be found in his whole career when he was impelled
by any but an upright motive, or endeavored
to attain an object by any but worthy means.
Such are some of the high qualities which have
justly earned for General Washington the admiration
even of the country he opposed, and not
merely the admiration but the gratitude and affection
of his own. Such was the pure and upright
spirit to which, when its toils were over and
its earthly course had been run, was offered the
unanimous homage of the assembled Congress, all
clad in deep mourning for their common loss, as
to "the man first in war, first in peace, and first
in the hearts of his fellow-citizens." At this day
in the United States the reverence for his character
is, as it should be, deep and universal, and
not confined, as with nearly all our English statesmen,
to one party, one province, or one creed.
Such reverence for Washington is felt even by
those who wander furthest from the paths in
which he trod. A President when recommending
measures of aggression and invasion can still refer
to him whose rule was ever to arm only in
self-defence as to "the greatest and best of men!"
States which exult in their bankruptcy as a proof
of their superior shrewdness, and have devised
"Repudiation" as a newer and more graceful term
for it, yet look up to their great General—the
very soul of good faith and honor—with their reverence
unimpaired!"</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">PATRICK HENRY.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">The colony of Virginia was the place, and the
the year 1736 the time, of birth to Patrick Henry.
His parents were in easy circumstances, but burthened
with a numerous family; they resided at
a country scat to which the ambitious name of
Mount Brilliant had been given. In childhood
Patrick Henry gave little promise of distinction.
His person is represented as having been coarse,
his manners extremely awkward, his dress slovenly,
and his aversion to study invincible. No persuasion
could bring him either to read or to work.
At sixteen his father gave him means to open a
small shop, which failed, however, in less than
one year. Then he tried a small farm, and married;
then again he entered upon the life of a
tradesman, but in a few years more was a bankrupt.
It was at this period that he became acquainted
with Mr. Jefferson, afterwards President
of the United States. "Mr. Henry," says Jefferson,
"had a little before broken up his store (shop),
or rather it had broken him up, but his misfortunes
were not to be traced either in his countenance
or conduct. His manners had something of
coarseness in them; his passion was music, dancing,
and pleasantry. He excelled in the last, and
it attached every one to him."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">As a last resource, Patrick Henry now determined
to make a trial of the law. It cannot be
said that his preparatory studies were unduly arduous,
since, as his biographer informs us, they
were all comprised in the period of six weeks.
Under such unpromising circumstances, and in the
year 1763, he obtained a brief in the long-contested
cause then raging in Virginia between the
clergy on the one side, and the legislature on the
other, as regarding the stipends which the former
claimed. On this occasion Henry, to the astonishment
of all who knew him, poured forth a strain
of such impassioned eloquence as not only carried
the cause, contrary to all previous expectation, but
placed him ever afterwards at the head of his profession
in the colony. To this very day, says Mr.
Wirt, writing in 1818, the impression remains, and
the old people of that district think that no higher
compliment can be paid to any public speaker
than to say of him in their homely phrase, "He is
almost equal to Patrick when he plead (pleaded)
against the parsons!"</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">The natural eloquence which on this occasion
flashed forth from the coarse and unlettered Henry,
as the spark-of fire from the flint, continued to
distinguished him both as a Member of the House
of Burgesses at Williamsburg, and afterwards as
a member of Congress. He took from the first a
bold and active part against the pretensions of the
mother country; indeed Mr. Jefferson goes so far
as to declare that "Mr. Henry certainly gave the
earliest impulse to the ball of revolution." His
most celebrated burst of oratory, or rather turn of
phrase, was in this very year 1765, when descanting
in the House of Burgesses on the tyranny of
the Stamp Act. "Cæsar—" he cried, in a voice
of thunder and with an eye of fire—"Cæsar had
his Brutus—Charles the First had his Cromwell—and
George the Third"—"Treason!" here exclaimed
the Speaker, "Treason! Treason!" re-echoed
from every part of the House. Henry did
not for an instant falter, but fixing his eye firmly
on the Speaker, he concluded his sentence thus
"—may profit by their example. If this be treason
make the most of it!"</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Indolence and aversion to reading seemed almost
as natural to Henry's mind as powers of debate.
To the last he never overcame them. Thus,
at his death, in 1799, his books were found to be
extremely few, and these too consisting chiefly of
odd volumes. But his gift of speech was (for his
hearers) sufficiently supported by his fiery energy,
his practical shrewdness, and his ever keen glance
into the feelings and characters of other. Nor
were these his only claims to his country's favor.
He retained the manners and custom of the common
people, with what his friendly biographer
terms "religious caution.—He dressed as plainly
as the plainest of them," continues Mr. Wirt, "ate
only their homely fare, and drank their simple beverage,
mixed with them on a footing of the most
entire and perfect equality, and conversed with
them even in their own vicious and depraved pronunciation."
By such means he soon acquired and
long retained a large measure of popularity, and
he applied himself with zeal and success before
any audience, and on every occasion which arose,
to increase and perpetuate the estrangement between
the North American Colonies and England.</span></p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page167">[pg 167]</span><a name="Pg167" id="Pg167" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">FRANKLIN.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Dr. Benjamin Franklin is one of those men who
have made the task of succeeding biographers
more difficult by having been in part their own.
He was born at Boston in 1706, the youngest of
ten sons. "My father," he says, "intended to devote
me, as the tithe of his sons, to the service of
the Church;" but on further reflection, the charges
of a college education were thought too burthensome,
and young Benjamin became a journeyman
printer. From a very early age he showed a passionate
fondness for reading, and much ingenuity
in argument, but, as he acknowledges, had at first
contracted a disputatious and wrangling turn of
conversation. "I have since observed," he says,
"that persons of good sense seldom fall into it, except
lawyers, University-men, and generally men
of all sorts who have been bred at Edinburgh."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Young Franklin was at first bound apprentice
to one of his elder brothers, a printer at Boston;
but some differences arising between them, he
proceeded to Philadelphia, where he soon obtained
employment, and ere long set up for himself. His
success in life was secured by his great frugality,
industry, and shrewdness. In his own words: "I
spent no time in taverns, games, or frolics of any
kind; reading was the only amusement I allowed
myself." His knowledge and shrewdness,—great
zeal in urging any improvements, and great ingenuity
in promoting them,—speedily raised him
high in the estimation of his fellow-townsmen, and
enabled him to take a forward part in all the affairs
of his province. In England, and indeed all
Europe, he became celebrated by his experiments
and discoveries in electricity. These may deserve
the greater credit when we recollect both their
practical utility and their unassisted progress,—how
much the pointed rods which he introduced
have tended to avert the dangers of lightning, and
how far removed was Franklin at the time from
all scientific society, libraries, or patronage.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">It has also been stated by no less an authority
in science than Sir Humphrey Davy, that "the
style and manner of Dr. Franklin's publication on
Electricity are almost as worthy of admiration as
the doctrine it contains." The same remark may
indeed be applied to all his writings. All of them
are justly celebrated for their clear, plain, and
lively style, free from every appearance of art,
but, in fact, carefully pointed and nicely poised.
In public speaking, on the other hand, he was
much less eminent. His last American biographer
observes of him, that he never even pretended to
the accomplishments of an orator or debater. He
seldom spoke in a deliberative assembly, except
for some special object, and then only for a few
minutes at a time.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">As a slight instance of Franklin's humor and
shrewdness in all affairs of common life I may
quote the following: "</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-variant: small-caps">Question.</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> I am about
courting a girl I have had but little acquaintance
with. How shall I come to a knowledge of her
faults? </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-variant: small-caps">Answer.</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> Commend her among her female
acquaintance!"</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Whether in science and study, or in politics and
action, the great aim of Franklin's mind was ever
practical utility. Here again we may quote Sir
Humphrey Davy as saying of Franklin that he
sought rather to make philosophy a useful inmate
and servant in the common habitations of man,
than to preserve her merely as an object of admiration
in temples and palaces. Thus, also, in affairs
he had a keen eye to his own interest, but
likewise a benevolent concern for the public good.
Nor was he ever indifferent to cases of individual
grievance or hardship. In the pursuit of his objects,
public or private, he was, beyond most other
men, calm, sagacious, and wary; neither above
business nor yet below it; never turned aside from
it by flights of fancy nor yet by bursts of passion.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Among the good qualities which we may with
just cause ascribe to Franklin we cannot number
any firm reliance on the truths of Revelation.
Only five weeks before his death we find him express
a cold approbation of the "system of morals"
bequeathed to us by "Jesus of Nazareth." In his
Memoirs he declares that he always believed in
the existence of a Deity and a future state of rewards
and punishments, but he adds that although
he continued to adhere to his first—the Presbyterian—sect,
some of its dogmas appeared to him
unintelligible, and others doubtful. "I early absented
myself from the public assemblies of the
sect; and I seldom attended any public worship;
Sunday being my studying day."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Such being Franklin's own practice, and such
his own description of it as to public worship, it
seems worthy of note that it was he who in the
American Convention brought forward a motion
for daily prayers. "I have lived, Sir," said he, "a
long time, and the longer I live the more convincing
proofs I see of this truth, that God governs
in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot
fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable
that an empire can rise without his aid?" But in
spite of this most earnest appeal the motion was
rejected, since, as we are told, "the Convention,
except three or four persons, thought prayers unnecessary."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">The accomplished American biographer, by
whom this last incident is recorded, expresses in
the same passage deep regret that Dr. Franklin
did not bestow more attention than he seems to
have done on the evidences of Christianity. And
indeed there are several indications that he was
less well acquainted with points of Christian faith
and discipline than with almost any other subject.
One of these indications, and surely a most strange
one, occurs in the Private Diary which he kept at
Passy during part of 1784. It appears that two
young American gentlemen had come over to
London with the view of entering Holy Orders,
but that the Archbishop of Canterbury refused
them Ordination unless they would take the Oath
of Allegiance. In this dilemma Franklin actually
applied to the Pope's Nuncio at Paris to ascertain
whether a Roman Catholic Bishop in America
might not perform the ceremony for them as Protestants,
and he transcribes as remarkable the natural
reply: "The Nuncio says the thing is impossible
unless the gentlemen become Roman Catholics."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">The religious scepticism or indifference of
Franklin, which his present biographers justly lament,
was, however, in his own day, a recommendation
and a merit with the French philosophists.
On the other hand, his hostility to England endeared
him to the French politicians. On both
these grounds, as well as from his high scientific
attainments, he found himself during his residence
of several years at Paris in no common measure
courted, flattered, and caressed. A fine verse, one</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page168">[pg 168]</span><a name="Pg168" id="Pg168" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
of the noblest which modern Latinity can boast,
describes him as having plucked the lightning from
Heaven and the sceptre from tyrants.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Descending from such lofty flights to the regions
of sober reality, we may observe that Franklin in
his later years, and especially in France, adopted
to a great extent the Quaker garb. He laid aside
the huge wig which he used to wear in England,
and allowed his long white hair to flow down nearly
to his shoulders. His clothes were of the plainest
cut and of the dunnest color. The Parisians
of that period, ever swayed by external impressions,
were greatly struck with, and in their writings
frequently refer to, his venerable aspect, and
they compared him by turns to all the sages of
antiquity. It is also probable that his Quaker-like
attire may have tended to invest him in their estimation
with the other attributes which they assigned
to the ideal Quaker character, as simplicity,
guilelessness, inviolable truth.</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">LA FAYETTE.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">It so chanced that in the summer of 1776, La
Fayette, still in his teens, and serving as a subaltern
with the French army, was stationed with his
regiment at Metz. It happened also that in the
course of a foreign tour their Royal Highnesses of
Gloucester passed a few days in that town. The
principal officers entertained the Duke at dinner,
when the conversation turned to the last news
from Philadelphia and the new Declaration of Independence.
Being at that period offended with
his Court, from its neglect of the Duchess, the
Duke indulged in Opposition topics, and, in some
degree at least, took the part of the Americans.
The details were new to La Fayette. He listened
with eagerness, and prolonged the conversation by
asking questions of the Royal guest. The cause
of the colonies that had risen against England
seemed to him just and noble, even on the showing
of one of the English princes; and before he
left the table, the thought came into his head that
he would go to America, and offer the Americans
his services. He determined to return to Paris,
and make further inquiries. His inquiries being
mainly addressed to Silas Deane and other zealous
friends of the insurgents, could not fail to confirm
him in his first impressions. He became fired
with an ardent zeal for Republican principles and
the American cause. That zeal continued ever
afterwards—for well nigh sixty years—the polar
star of his course. That zeal, favored as it was by
fortune, adapted to the times that came upon him,
and urged forward by great personal vanity, laid
the foundations of his fame far more, as I conceive,
than any strength of mind or talents of his
own. Few men have ever been so conspicuous
from afar with so little, when closely viewed, of
real weight or dimension. As a general, it can
scarcely be pretended that his exploits were either
many or considerable. As an orator, we look in
vain for any high powers of debate. As a statesman,
we find only an undistinguishing eagerness to
apply the Transatlantic examples and to act the
part of Washington, without duly estimating
either the immense superiority of Washington's
character above his own, or the manifold points of
difference between America and Europe.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">It was said by Napoleon at St. Helena, that
"La Fayette was a man of no ability, either in
civil or military life; his understanding was confined
to narrow bounds; his character was full of
dissimulation, and swayed by vague ideas of liberty,
which, in him, were undefined and ill-digested."
No doubt there is some exaggeration in
these words. No doubt the late Emperor, at that
period, was stirred by personal resentment at the
hostile conduct of the General in 1815; yet it will
perhaps be found more easy by any admirer of
La Fayette to impugn the good faith of the
draughtsman than the general accuracy of the
portrait.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">The fortune of La Fayette was ample, his yearly
income being little short of two hundred thousand
livres; and his connexions, as we have seen,
were among the first at Court. Under such circumstances,
Silas Deane felt the vast importance of
securing him. An agreement was concluded between
them, by the intervention of one Mr. Carmichael
(for as yet La Fayette spoke no English,
and Deane little French), according to the terms
of which the Marquis de La Fayette was to join
the American service, and to receive from Congress
the rank of Major-General—no slight temptation
to a stripling of nineteen! La Fayette was
to be accompanied, or rather attended, by the
Baron de Kalb and eleven other officers of lower
rank, seeking service in America. He sent, in
secret, an agent to Bordeaux, there to purchase
and prepare a vessel for their voyage. Meanwhile
he made an excursion of three weeks to
London, where his kinsman, the Marquis de
Noailles, was ambassador. He was presented to
the King, and graciously received. He saw at the
opera General Clinton, who had come home on a
winter leave of absence, and who was next to
meet him on a field of battle in America. But,
mindful of his own hostile designs, he deemed it
proper to forbear from prying into the military
forces of the kingdom, and declined an invitation
to visit the naval armament at Portsmouth.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">On his return to France, La Fayette bade farewell
to his young wife, leaving her four months
gone with child, and set out for Bordeaux. Thus
far all had prospered according to his wishes. But
at Bordeaux he found that his preparations had
been discovered and complained of by Lord Stormont,
and that a </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-variant: small-caps">lettre de cachet</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> for his arrest
was already issued. Nevertheless, he did not relinquish
his design. He crossed the Spanish frontier
in the disguise of a courier, found his vessel at
Pasages, and there embarked with his companions.
Towards the middle of June he landed on the coast
of Carolina; and after a few days' rest, pursued his
route to Philadelphia. His reception by the Congress
was not at first a warm one; but La Fayette
declared that he would accept no pay, and was
willing to serve as a volunteer; and under these
circumstances, the Assembly fulfilled the terms of
the secret agreement, and bestowed on him the
rank of Major-General.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">At Philadelphia La Fayette saw the American
troops for the first time, and, according to his own
account, was struck with their grotesque appearance—with
green boughs fastened to their hats—coarse
hunting-shirts instead of uniforms—and
muskets, many wanting bayonets, and all of unequal
make and size. But he soon learnt to think
more favorably of these raw levies, when, notwithstanding
all their disadvantages, he observed their
conduct in the field. With regard to their commander,
his early impressions never changed. It
was also at Philadelphia, and at a dinner-table,</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page169">[pg 169]</span><a name="Pg169" id="Pg169" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
comprising several members of the Congress, that
La Fayette was introduced to Washington. The
boy-general found himself warmly welcomed by
the chief whom he had long admired. "When
you come to the army," said Washington, "I shall
be pleased if you will make my quarters your
home, and consider yourself as one of my family."
The invitation thus frankly tendered was no less
frankly accepted. Thus did a cordial intimacy
arise between them, Washington at all times
treating La Fayette with fatherly kindness, and
La Fayette looking up to Washington with filial
regard.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">La Fayette had already begun to speak a little
English, and by degrees acquired more. But to
the last the difficulties of the language were a
main obstacle, not only to himself, but to every
other foreigner who served with, or under, the
United States. Thus there are still preserved
some of the ill-spelled and scarcely intelligible notes
of Count Pulasky, during the short time that he
served as general of cavalry. Still worse was the
case of Baron Steuben, a veteran of the school of
Frederick the Second, who joined the Americans a
few months later than La Fayette, and who greatly
aided them in the establishment of discipline. The
Baron, it appears, could not teach and drill, nor
even swear and curse, but by means of an interpreter!
He was, therefore, most fortunate in securing
as his aid-de-camp Captain Walker of New-York—most
fortunate, if, as his American biographer
assures us, "there was not, perhaps, another
officer in the army, unless Hamilton be excepted,
who could speak French and English so as to be
well understood in both."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">La Fayette did not always confine himself to the
bounds of his own profession; sometimes, and,
perhaps, not greatly to his credit, he stepped beyond
them. Here is one case recorded with much
satisfaction by himself. He states, that soon after
his arrival in America, and while attending on
Sunday the service of the Church of England, he
was displeased with the clergyman, because in his
sermon he had said nothing at all of politics. "I
charged him to his face," says La Fayette, "with
preaching only about Heaven!... But next
Sunday," continues the keen young officer, "I
heard him again, when his loud invectives against
'the execrable House of Hanover,' showed that he
was ready and willing to take my good advice."</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">JOHN HORNE TOOKE.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">His abilities were ill fitted for the profession
of a clergyman, which indeed he at last renounced,
but they highly qualified him for his favorite
occupation as a demagogue. Between him and
Wilkes there now arose a violent animosity and a
keen altercation carried on in newspapers. Descending
to the lowest and most selfish details,
they were not ashamed thus publicly to wrangle
respecting a Welsh pony and a hamper of claret!
Even before the close of 1770 might be discerned
the growing discord and weakness of Wilkes and
his city friends. At a meeting which they convened
to consider their course of action, some proposed
a new Remonstrance to the King, while
others urged an impeachment of Lord North in
the House of Commons. "What is the use of a
new Remonstrance?" cried Wilkes. "It would
only serve to make another paper kite for His
Royal Highness the Prince of Wales!"—"What
is the use of an impeachment?" cried Sawbridge.
"Lord North is quite sure of the Bishops and the
Scotch Peers in the Upper House, and could not
fail to be acquitted!" But although these ardent
patriots might differ a little as to the means, they
were bent on one and the same end; and the Remonstrance
which was at last agreed upon, appears
to have been framed by their united wisdom.
As thus drawn up it teemed with silly vagaries
fit only to please the lowest order of intellects.
Thus it prayed that His Majesty would for
ever remove from his presence and councils all his
Ministers and Secretaries of State, especially Lord
Mansfield (who by the way was not one of them),
and that His Majesty would not again admit any
Scotchman into the administration!</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">THE CHARACTER OF WILKES.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">He was born in 1727, the son of a rich distiller.
Early in life he set up a brewery for himself,
but soon relinquished the wearisome business.
Early in life also he improved his fortune by his
marriage with the daughter and heiress of the celebrated
Dr. Mead, the author of the "Treatise on
Poisons." But this lady, being of maturer age
than himself, and of slight personal attractions,
was speedily slighted, and he left her with as
much disgust as he had his brewery. In 1757 he
was elected Member of Parliament for Aylesbury,
but never obtained any success as an orator, his
speeches being, though flippant, yet feeble. In
truth he had no great ability of any kind, but
dauntless courage and high animal spirits. Nor
should we deny him another much rarer praise,—a
vein of good humor and kindliness, which did
not forsake him through all his long career,
amidst the riot of debauchery or the rancor of
faction. So agreeable and insinuating was his
conversation, that more than one fair dame as she
listened found herself forget his sinister squint and
his ill-favored countenance. He used to say of
himself in a laughing strain, that though he was
the ugliest man in England, he wanted nothing
to make him even with the handsomest but half
an hour at starting! Politics indeed seemed at
first wholly alien from Wilkes's sphere; gayety
and gallantry were his peculiar objects. For
some time he reigned the oracle of green-rooms
and the delight of taverns. In conjunction with
other kindred spirits, as Paul Whitehead and Sir
Francis Dashwood, amounting in all to twelve,
he rented Medmenham Abbey, near Marlow. It
is a secluded and beautiful spot on the banks of
the Thames, with hanging woods that slope down
to the crystal stream, a grove of venerable elms,
and meadows of the softest green. In days of
old it had been a convent of Cistercian monks, but
the new brotherhood took the title of Franciscans
in compliment to Sir Francis Dashwood,
whom they called their Father Abbot. On the
portal, now again in ruins, and once more resigned
to its former solitude and silence, I could still
a few years since read the inscription placed there
by Wilkes and his friends: </span><span lang="fr" class="tei tei-foreign" xml:lang="fr"><span style="font-size: 90%">fay çe que voudras</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">.
Other French and Latin inscriptions, now with
good reason effaced, then appeared in other parts
of the grounds, some of them remarkable for wit,
but all for either profaneness or obscenity, and
many the more highly applauded as combining
both. In this retreat the new Franciscans used
often to meet for summer pastimes, and varied
the round of their debauchery by a mock celebration
of the principal Roman Catholic rites.</span></p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page170">[pg 170]</span><a name="Pg170" id="Pg170" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">WILKES'S ESSAY ON WOMAN.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">It appears that Wilkes had, several years before,
and in some of his looser hours, composed a
parody of Pope's "Essay on Man." In this undertaking,
which, according to his own account,
cost him a great deal of pains and time, he was,
it is said, assisted by Thomas Potter, second son
of the late Archbishop of Canterbury, who had
been Secretary of Frederick Prince of Wales,
and had since shown ability and gained office in
the House of Commons, but was (as well became
one of Wilkes's friends) of lax morals in his private
life. The result of their joint authorship,
however, has little wit or talent to make any
amends for the blasphemy and lewdness with
which it abounds. As the original had been inscribed
by Pope to Lord Bolingbroke, so was the
parody by Wilkes to Lord Sandwich; thus it began,
"Awake my Sandwich!" instead of "Awake
my St. John!" Thus also, in ridicule of Warburton's
well-known commentary, some burlesque
notes were appended in the name of the Right
Reverend the Bishop of Gloucester.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">This worthless poem had remained in manuscript,
and lain in Wilkes's desk, until in the previous
spring he had occasion to set up a press at
his own house, and was tempted to print fourteen
copies only as presents to his boon companions.
Of one of these copies the Government obtained
possession, through a subordinate agent, and by not
very creditable means, and Lord Sandwich holding
it forth in his hand with the air of injured innocence,
denounced it as not only scandalous and
impious, but also as a breach of Privilege against
the Bishop as a Peer of Parliament. He likewise
complained of another profane parody, written by
the same hand, and printed on the same occasion;
this last was entitled, "The </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-variant: small-caps">veni creator</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> paraphrased."
The most offensive passages of both
were now by Lord Sandwich's order read aloud
to the House, until Lord Lyttleton with a groan
entreated that they might hear no more!</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">In the discussion which ensured, Bishop Warburton,
forgetting that such ribaldries could not really
tarnish his character, showed a heat which little
became it. He exclaimed that the blackest fiends
in Hell would disdain to keep company with
Wilkes,—and then asked pardon of Satan for
comparing them together! Both the Earl and
Bishop in their passion would have readily over-leaped
the common forms of justice. The former,
after producing evidence at the Bar as to the authorship
of Wilkes, wished the House to take
measures for his prosecution, without the least delay.
But the Peers, although readily agreeing to
vote the two parodies blasphemous and breaches
of Privilege, resolved, on the motion of Lord Mansfield,
to adjourn all further questions until the day
after the next, so as to give Wilkes the opportunity,
if he desired it, of alleging any matter in denial
or defence.</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">LORD THURLOW.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">With all his faults and shortcomings there was
that in Thurlow which overawed and daunted his
contemporaries, and of which the impression is
not wholly lost even on posterity. It was a saying
of Mr. Fox, that no man ever yet was so wise
as Thurlow looked. His countenance was fraught
with sense; his aspect stately and commanding;
his brow broad, massy, and armed with terrors
like that of the Olympian Jove, to which indeed
it was often compared. His voice loud, sonorous,
and as rolling thunder in the distance, augmented
the effect of his fierce and terrible invective. Few
indeed were they who did not quail before his
frown; fewer still who would abide his onset in
debate. Perhaps no modern English statesman,
in the House of Lords at least, was ever so much
dreaded. In parliament, as at the bar, his
speeches were home thrusts, conveying the
strongest arguments or keenest reproofs in the
plainest and clearest words. His enemies might
accuse his style of being coarse, and sometimes
even ungrammatical, but they could never deny
its energy or its effect. In private life Thurlow
was remarkable for his thorough knowledge of the
Greek and Latin writers; and no less for his skill
in argument and brilliant powers of conversation.
While yet at the bar, Dr. Johnson said of him to
Boswell: "I honor Thurlow, sir; Thurlow is a fine
fellow; he fairly puts his mind to yours." And
after he became Chancellor, the same high authority
added: "I would prepare myself for no man
in England but Lord Thurlow. When I am to
meet him, I should wish to know a day before."
Unless with ladies, his manner was always uncouth,
and his voice a constant growl. But beneath
that rugged rind there appears to have
lurked much warmth of affection and kindliness
of heart. Many acts of generous aid and unsolicited
bounty are recorded of him. Men of learning
and merit seldom needed any other recommendation
to his favor. Thus, on reading Horsley's
"Letters to Dr. Priestly," he at once obtained
for the author a stall at Gloucester, saying—what
I earnestly wish all other Chancellors
had borne in mind—"that those who supported
the Church should be supported by it." Nevertheless
his temper, even when in some measure
sobered down by age, was always liable to violent
and unreasonable starts of passion. It is related
by a gentleman who dined with him at Brighton
only a few months before his death—for I must
ever hold that great characters are best portrayed
by little circumstances—that a plateful of
peaches being brought in, the ex-Chancellor, incensed
at their ill appearance, ordered the window
to be opened, and not only the peaches but the
whole desert to be thrown out!</span></p>
</div>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">EDMUND BURKE.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">In pamphlets, however, and political essays—and
even speeches, when revised and sent forth
singly, may be comprehended in that class,—the
personal disadvantages of Burke could no longer
apply; and as regards that class of writings, it
may be doubted whether he has ever, in any age,
or in any country, been excelled. The philosophy
and deep thought of his reflections—the vigor and
variety of his style—his rich flow of either panegyric
or invective—his fine touches of irony—the
glowing abundance and beauty of his metaphors—all
these might separately claim applause; how
much more, then, when all blended into one glorious
whole! To give examples of these merits
would be to transcribe half his works. Yet still
if one single and short instance from his maxims
be allowed me, I will observe that the generous
ardor and activity of mind called forth by competition
has formed a theme of philosophic comment
from a very early age. It is touched both by Cicero
and Quintilian; it has not been neglected
either by Bacon or Montaigne. Yet still, as</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page171">[pg 171]</span><a name="Pg171" id="Pg171" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
handled by Burke, this trite topic beams forth, not
only with the hues of eloquence, but even with
the bloom of novelty. He invites us to "an amicable
conflict with difficulty. Difficulty is a severe
instructor set over us by the supreme ordinance
of a parental guardian and legislator, who knows
us better than we know ourselves, as he loves us
better too. He that wrestles with us strengthens
our nerves and sharpens our skill. Our antagonist
is our helper!" If amidst so much of eloquence
and feeling as Burke's writings display we are desired
to seek for faults, we shall find them, not in
the want, but only in the exuberance and overflow
of beauties. The palate becomes cloyed by
so much richness, the eye dazzled by so much
glare. His metaphors, fraught with fancy though
they be, are often bold; they seem both too numerous
and strained too far; they sometimes cease
to please, and occasionally border even on the ludicrous
and low. Of this defect, as of his excellences,
a single instance shall suffice me. In the
"Letter to a Noble Lord," in 1796, Burk compares
the Duke of Bedford to a lamb already marked
for slaughter by the Marats and Robespierres of
France, but still unconscious of his doom, "pleased
to the last," and who "licks the hand just raised
to shed his blood." Thus far the simile is conducted
with admirable force and humor. But not
satisfied with his success, Burke goes further; he
insists on leading us into the shambles, and makes
the revolutionary butchers inquire as to their ducal
victim, "how he cuts up? how he tallows in
the caul or on the kidneys?" Apart from the
beauty of the style, the value, as I conceive, of
Burke's writings, is subject to one not unimportant
deduction. For most lofty and far-sighted views
in politics they will never be consulted in vain.
On the other hand, let no man expect to find in
them just or accurate, or even consistent, delineations
of contemporary character. Where eternal
principles are at stake, Burke was inaccessible to
favor or to fear. Where only persons are concerned,
he was often misled by resentments or by
partialities, and allowed his fancy full play. The
rich stores of Burke's memory and the rare powers
of his mind were not reserved solely for his
speeches or his writings; they appeared to no less
advantage in his familiar conversation. Even the
most trivial topics could elicit, even the most ignorant
hearers could discern, his genius. "Sir,"
said Dr. Johnson, "if Burke were to go into a stable
to see his horse dressed, the hostler would say,
We have had an extraordinary man here!" On other
occasions, also, the author of "Rasselas" extols
him as "never unwilling to begin conversation,
never at a loss to carry it on, never in haste to
leave it off." His attempts at wit, indeed, were
not always successful, and he might be accused of
an inordinate affection for quibbles and puns. His
favorite niece, and latterly his guest, was sometimes
provoked into a—"Really, uncle, that is
very poor." But upon the whole it may be asserted,
that in social converse Burke was equalled
by none of his contemporaries and his countrymen,
except only Dr. Johnson himself and perhaps
Lord Thurlow.</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We have no more room for further extracts;
those we have made illustrate the
temper and the style of the work, and will
commend it to the favorable consideration of
American readers. Among subjects treated
most elaborately is that of the authorship of
Junius; but Lord Mahon has no new facts
for the vindication of his judgment, that Sir
Philip Francis was unquestionably the writer
of the famous letters under that name.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There is an appendix to each volume; and
in the appendix of one, and in the notes of
both, are some curious illustrations of the
worthlessness of Mr. Sparks's editions of the
writings of Washington and Franklin. We
first called attention to this subject some five
years ago, and after the changes, &amp;c. of Mr.
Sparks had been pointed out in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The International</span></span>,
a series of carefully prepared criticisms
appeared in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Evening Post</span></span>, in which the
discrepancies between the original letters of
Washington were exhibited to a degree that at
once and for ever destroyed the good reputation
of Mr. Sparks in this department. He chose
not to take any notice of the disclosures to
which we refer, but it may be that Lord Mahon's
criticism will secure his attention, and
an attempt, at least, for his vindication. Besides
his comparisons of MS. and printed letters
in the appendix, Lord Mahon has several
allusions to the subject, of which we quote
specimens:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Some samples of the manner in which that
gentleman (Mr. Sparks) has thought himself at
liberty to tamper with the original MSS., will be
found," &amp;c.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Mr. Sparks has printed no part of the correspondence
precisely as Washington wrote it, but
has greatly altered, and as he thinks, corrected
and embellished it. Such a liberty with the writings
of such a man might be justifiable, nay, even
in some respects necessary, if Washington and his
principal contemporaries had been still alive; but
the date of this publication, the year (1838), leaves,
as I conceive, no adequate vindication for </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">tampering
with the truth of history</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">."</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Washington, however, in his public letter to
Congress (unless Mr. Jared Sparks has </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">improved</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">
this passage), says," &amp;c.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"I know not whether my readers will concur
with me in liking Washington's own and though
home-spun, excellent cloth, much better than the
'Cobweb schemes and gauze coverings' which
have, it seems, been manufactured in its place."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A complete errata to Mr. Sparks's editions
of Washington, Franklin, and Gouverneur
Morris, would occupy several volumes; and
we do not remember one instance in which
his alterations were justifiable, or in which
they were really an improvement in point
of style. The reprobation with which Mr.
Sparks has been visited by the learned and
judicious of his own country and England will
be a warning to future laborers in the same
field. The works edited by Mr. Sparks are
no longer, we believe, regarded by historical
students as of the slightest value as authorities,
and no faithfulness or excellence which
may be displayed in future works from his
hand will retrieve his lost reputation.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">These volumes will be reprinted immediately
by the Appletons.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page172">[pg 172]</span><a name="Pg172" id="Pg172" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<a name="toc29" id="toc29"></a>
<a name="pdf30" id="pdf30"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">FAUST OF WITTENBERG AND FUST OF MENTZ.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It were well if writers on the origin of typography
would obey the injunction of Sir
Thomas Browne, who thought it not inexpedient
for those who seek to enlighten mankind
on any particular subject, first to acquire
some knowledge thereof themselves, so that
the labor of readers should not so generally
be profitless. In an article by Bishop McIlvaine,
and another in Frazer's Magazine, by
an anonymous contributor, the exercise of
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">necromancy</span></span> is imputed to Fust, the inventor
or supposed inventor of printing. Nine of
every ten persons who write any thing on the
subject fall into the same error; they have
something always to say of Fust and the devil;
curious anecdotes to rehearse of the multiplication
of copies of the Scriptures in Paris
and elsewhere; spells and incantations by
the inventor of the "black" art to describe,
&amp;c. But this is all induced by ignorance of
the facts. John Fust, the putative inventor
of printing, was a shrewd silversmith, and
we suspect a knavish one, for without having
any thing to do with the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">invention</span></span> of the
"art preservative of arts," he managed to
rob another of the credit and profit of it. He
was, however, never in Paris; he was never
in his lifetime accused of the exercise of magical
arts; he simply endeavored to make
as much money as he could in Germany by
underselling the copyists in the book market.
All stories in which necromancy is attributed
to him or to any other printer; all accounts
of the opposition of the priests to typography
as an infernal invention; in fine, the whole
popular idea of Faust and the devil, is a modern
contrivance, and originated in this manner:
Some bookmaker, about the year 1580,
undertook to write a history of printing; he
had an indistinct recollection of Professor
Faustus of the University of Wittenberg, and
in his book blended as many of his adventures
as he could remember with the memoirs of
John Fust the printer; and from that day a
succession of ignorant chroniclers have considered
two men, of totally different characters,
living at different times, as one individual.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Faust, the necromancer, was born in the
duchy of Weimer in 1491, twenty-five years
after the printer is understood to have died.
He is mentioned by Melancthon, Wierus, and
many other cotemporary writers, and was
probably in his time not less distinguished as
a magician than Agrippa or Albertus Magnus.
It is related of him by Godwin, that he was
in his youth adopted by an uncle, dwelling in
the city of Wittenberg, who had no children.
Here he was sent to college, and was soon
distinguished by the greatness of his talents,
and the rapid progress he made in every species
of learning that was put before him. He
was destined by his relative to the profession
of theology. But he is said ungraciously to
have set at naught his uncle's pious intentions.
He went through his examinations with applause,
and carried off all the first prizes
among sixteen competitors; he therefore obtained
the degree of doctor in divinity; but
his success only made him proud and headstrong.
He disdained his theological eminence,
and sighed for distinction as a man of
the world. He took his degree as a doctor
of medicine, and aspired to celebrity as a
practitioner of physic. About the same time
he fell in with certain cotemporaries, of tastes
similar to his own, and associated with them
in the study of Chaldean, Greek, and Arabic
science, of strange incantations and supernatural
influences, in short, of all the arts of a
sorcerer.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Having made such progress as he could by
dint of study and intense application, he at
length resolved to prosecute his purposes still
further by actually raising the devil. He happened
one evening to walk in a thick, dark
wood, within a short distance from Wittenberg,
when it occurred to him that that was
a fit place for executing his design. He stopped
at a solitary spot where four roads met,
and made use of his wand to mark out a large
circle, and then two small ones within the
larger. In one of these he fixed himself, appropriating
the other for the use of his expected
visitor. He went over the precise
range of charms and incantations, omitting
nothing. It was now dark night, between
the ninth and tenth hours. The devil manifested
himself by the usual signs of his appearance.
"Wherefore am I called?" said
he, "and what is it that you demand?" "I
require," rejoined Faustus, "that you should
sedulously attend unto me, answer my inquiries,
and fulfil my behests."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Immediately upon Faustus pronouncing
these words, there followed a tumult overhead,
as if heaven and earth were coming together.
The trees in their topmost branches
bended to their very roots. It seemed as if
the whole forest were peopled with devils,
making a crash like a thousand wagons, hurrying
to the right and left, before and behind,
in every possible direction, with thunder and
lightning, and the continual discharge of great
cannon. Hell appeared to have emptied itself
to have furnished the din. There succeeded
the most charming music from all sorts
of instruments, and sounds of hilarity and
dancing. Next came a report as of a tournament,
and the clashing of innumerable lances.
This lasted so long, that Faustus was many
times about to rush out of the circle in which
he had inclosed himself, and to abandon his
preparations. His courage and resolution,
however, got the better; and he remained
immovable. He pursued his incantations
without intermission. Then came to the very
edge of the circle a griffin first, and next a
dragon, which in the midst of his enchantments
grinned at him horribly with his teeth,
but finally fell down at his feet, and extended
his length to many a rood. Faustus persisted.
Then succeeded a sort of fireworks, a pillar<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page173">[pg 173]</span><a name="Pg173" id="Pg173" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
of fire, and a man on fire at the top, who
leaped down; and there immediately appeared
a number of globes here and there
red-hot, while the man on fire went and came
to every part of the circle for a quarter of an
hour. At length the devil came forward in
the shape of a gray monk, and asked Faustus
what he wanted. Faustus adjourned their further
conference, and appointed the devil to
comes to him at his lodging.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He in the mean time busied himself in the
necessary preparations. He entered his study
at the appointed time, and found the devil
waiting for him. Faustus told him that he
had prepared certain articles, to which it was
necessary that the demon should fully accord,—that
he should attend him at all times,
when required, for all the days of his life;
that he should bring him every thing he
wanted; that he should come to him in any
shape that Faustus required, or be invisible,
and Faustus should be invisible too whenever
he desired it; that he should deny him nothing,
and answer him with perfect veracity
to every thing he demanded. To some of
these requisitions the spirit could not consent,
without authority from his master, the chief
of devils. At length all these concessions
were adjusted. The devil on his part also
prescribed his conditions. That Faustus
should abjure the Christian religion and all
reverence for the supreme God; that he
should enjoy the entire command of his attendant
demon for a certain term of years;
and that at the end of that period the devil
should dispose of him, body and soul, at his
pleasure [the term was fixed for twenty-four
years]; that he should at all times steadfastly
refuse to listen to any one who should desire
to convert him, or convince him of the error
of his ways, and lead him to repentance; that
Faustus should draw up a writing containing
these particulars, and sign it with his blood;
that he should deliver this writing to the
devil, and keep a duplicate of it himself, that
so there might be no misunderstanding. It
was further appointed by Faustus, that the
devil should usually attend him in the habit
of a cordelier, with a pleasing countenance
and an insinuating demeanor. Faustus also
asked the devil his name, who answered that
he was usually called Mephistophiles.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Numerous adventures of Faustus are related
in the German histories. It is said that
the emperor Charles V. was at Inspruck, at
a time when Faustus also resided there. His
courtiers informed the emperor that Faustus
was in the town, and Charles expressed a desire
to see him. He was introduced. Charles
asked him whether he could really perform
such wondrous feats as were reported of
him. Faustus modestly replied, inviting the
emperor to make trial of his skill. "Then,"
said Charles, "of all the eminent personages
I have ever read of, Alexander the Great is
the man who most excites my curiosity, and
whom it would most gratify my wishes to see
in the very form in which he lived." Faustus
rejoined that it was out of his power truly to
raise the dead, but that he had spirits at his
command who had often seen that great conqueror,
and that Faustus would willingly
place him before the emperor as he required.
He conditioned that Charles should not speak
to him, nor attempt to touch him. The emperor
promised compliance. After a few
ceremonies, therefore, Faustus opened a door,
and brought in Alexander exactly in the form
in which he had lived, with the same garments,
and every circumstance corresponding.
Alexander made his obeisance to the
emperor, and walked several times round
him. The queen of Alexander was then introduced
in the same manner. Charles just
then recollected he had read that Alexander
had a wart on the nape of his neck; and
with proper precautions Faustus allowed the
emperor to examine the apparition by this
test. Alexander then vanished.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">As Faustus was approaching the last year
of his term, he seemed resolved to pamper
his appetite with every species of luxury.
He carefully accumulated all the materials of
voluptuousness and magnificence. He was
particularly anxious in the selection of women
who should serve for his pleasures. He
had one Englishwoman, one Hungarian, one
French, two of Germany, and two from different
parts of Italy, all of them eminent for
the perfections which characterized their different
countries.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At length he arrived at the end of the term
for which he had contracted with the devil.
For two or three years before it expired his
character gradually altered. He became subject
to fits of despondency, was no longer
susceptible of mirth and amusement, and reflected
with bitter agony on the close in
which the whole must terminate. He assembled
his friends together at a grand entertainment,
and when it was over, addressed them,
telling them that this was the last day of his
life, reminding them of the wonders with
which he had frequently astonished them,
and informing them of the condition upon
which he had held this power. They, one
and all, expressed the deepest sorrow at the
intelligence. They had had the idea of something
unlawful in his proceedings; but their
notions had been very far from coming up to
the truth. They regretted exceedingly that
he had not been unreserved in his communications
at an earlier period. They would
have had recourse in his behalf, to the means
of religion, and have applied to pious men,
desiring them to employ their power to intercede
with Heaven in his favor. Prayer and
penitence might have done much for him;
and the mercy of Heaven was unbounded.
They advised him to still call upon God, and
endeavor to secure an interest in the merits
of the Saviour.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Faustus assured them that it was all in
vain, and that his tragical fate was inevitable.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page174">[pg 174]</span><a name="Pg174" id="Pg174" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
He led them to their sleeping apartment, and
recommended to them to pass the night as
they could, but by no means, whatever they
might happen to hear, to come out of it; as
their interference could in no way be beneficial
to him, and might be attended with the
most serious injury to themselves. They lay
still, therefore, as he had enjoined them; but
not one of them could close his eyes. Between
twelve and one in the night they heard
first a furious storm of wind round all sides
of the house, as if it would have torn away
the walls from their foundations. This no
sooner somewhat abated, than a noise was
heard of discordant and violent hissing, as if
the house was full of all sorts of venomous
reptiles, but which plainly proceeded from
Faustus's chamber. Next they heard the
doctor's room-door vehemently burst open,
and cries for help uttered with dreadful agony,
but in a half-suppressed voice, which presently
grew fainter and fainter. Then every
thing became still, as if the everlasting motion
of the world was suspended.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When at length it became broad day, the
students went in a body to the doctor's apartment.
But he was nowhere to be seen. Only
the walls were found smeared with his blood,
and marks as if his brains had been dashed
out. His body was finally discovered at some
distance from the house, his limbs dismembered,
and marks of great violence about the
features of his face. The students gathered
up the mutilated parts of his body, and afforded
them private burial at the temple of
Mars, in the village where he died.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc31" id="toc31"></a>
<a name="pdf32" id="pdf32"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">SOME SMALL POEMS.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY R. H. STODDARD.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A PROLOGUE.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Without, the winds of Winter blow;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Without, the Winter sifts its snow:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Within, the hearths are warm and bright,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And all the chambers full of light,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And we again are gathered here,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To greet the advent of the year.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Pile on the wood, and stir the fires,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And in our souls the sweet desires;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And let us frame a mingled rhyme,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To suit the singers and the time;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With different stops, and keys of art,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In quaint old measures, got by heart.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY THE SEA.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">By the rolling waves I roam,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And look along the sea,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And dream of the day and the gleaming sail,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">That bore my love from me.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His bark now sails the Indian seas,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Far down the summer zone:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But his thoughts, like swallows, fly to me</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">By the Northern waves alone.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor will he delay, when winds are fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To waft him back to me;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But haste, my love! or my grave will be made</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">By the sad and moaning sea!</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">WHEAT AND SHEAVES.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Before me now the village stands,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Its cottages embowered in bloom;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Behind me lies the burying ground,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Its sepulchres in cypress gloom.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The bells before me ring aloud,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A pæan for the live and bold;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The bells behind are tolling low,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A requiem for the dead and cold.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The crowd before me tramp away,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And shout until the winds are stirred;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The crowd behind no longer move,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And never breathe a single word.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Before me many moan, and weep:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Behind, there is not one who grieves;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For blight but wastes the standing wheat.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">It cannot touch the garnered sheaves!</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">FRAGMENT.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    The gray old Earth goes on</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">      At its ancient pace,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    Lifting its thunder voice</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">      In the choir of Space;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 6.00em">        And the Years, as they go,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 6.00em">        Are singing slow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    Solemn dirges, full of woe!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Tears are shed, and hearts are broken,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  And many bitter words are spoken,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">    And many left unsaid;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  And many are with the living,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  That were better—better dead!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tyrants sit upon their thrones,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And will not hear the people's moans,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Nor hear their clanking chains;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Or if they do, they add thereto,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And mock, not ease, their pains;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  But little liberty remains—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">There is but little room for thee,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In this wide world, O Liberty!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But where thou hast once set thy foot,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Thou wilt remain, though oft unseen;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And grow like thought, and move like wind,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Upon the troubled sea of Mind,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  No longer now serene.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thy life and strength thou dost retain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Despite the cell, the rack, the pain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And all the battles won—in vain!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And even now thou seest the hour</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That lays in dust the tyrant's power,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When man shall once again be free,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Earth renewed, and young like thee,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  O Liberty! O Liberty!</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">CERTAIN MERRY STANZAS.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I often wish that I could know</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  The life in store for me,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The measure of the joy and woe</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Of my futurity.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I do not fear to meet the worst</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  The gathering years can give;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My life has been a life accurst</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  From youth, and yet I live;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The Future may be overcast,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But never darker than the Past!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My mind will grow, as years depart</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  With all the wingéd hours;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And all my buried seeds of Art</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Will bloom again in flowers;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But buried hopes no more will bloom,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  As in the days of old;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My youth is lying in its tomb,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  My heart is dead and cold!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And certain sad, but nameless cares</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Have flecked my locks with silver hairs!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">No bitter feeling clouds my grief,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  No angry thoughts of thee;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For thou art now a faded leaf</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Upon a fading tree.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">From day to day I sea thee sink,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  From deep to deep in shame;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I sigh, but dare not bid thee think</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Upon thine ancient fame—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For oh! the thought of what thou art</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Must be a hell within thy heart!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My life is full of care and pain—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  My heart of old desires;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But living embers yet remain</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Below its dying fires;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor do I fear what all the years</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  May have in store for me,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For I have washed away with tears</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  The blots of Memory:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But thou—despite the love on high—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">What is there left thee but to die!</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page175">[pg 175]</span><a name="Pg175" id="Pg175" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<a name="toc33" id="toc33"></a>
<a name="pdf34" id="pdf34"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">MR. JUSTICE STORY, WITH SOME REMINISCENT REFLECTIONS.</span><a id="noteref_4" name="noteref_4" href="#note_4"><span class="tei tei-noteref" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">4</span></span></a></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY A. OAKEY HALL.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The hurrying pedestrian in Wall-street, or
in some of its bisecting avenues of commercial
bustle, if he have time to glance over
his shoulder, is sure to observe a freshly-painted
piece of tin (its brief rhetoric revelling in
the pride and pomp of gold leaf alphabetically
shaped), denominated by lawyers "a
shingle"—setting forth that some sanguine
gentleman has then and there established
himself as an Attorney and Counsellor at Law.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The sign is by the front door, shining with
self-conceit at the passers by; and its owner
is up some weary stairway, yawning over
"twice told tales" of legal lore, copying precedents
for the sake of practice, or keeping
hope alive upon the back benches of the
court-rooms in listening to the eloquence of
his seniors while <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">he</span></span> is waiting for clients.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Heaven help many a young attorney in this
"babel" of money-getting. The race should
be prayed for in churches: and it should meet
with a consideration as nearly divine as mortals
can call up from crowded heart-chambers.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Well: the sign keeps nailed up: and by
and by the sun blisters it, and dries out the
pomp of the gilded letters, and perhaps the
owner yawns over his one case, or sitting
upon a front bench in the court-room while
case number thirty is being heard, waits for
case nine hundred and thirty, against which
on the calendar that is reposing by the side
of the complaisant clerk in the corner, his
name is placed as counsel—shining there like
a pebble on a wide and extended beach.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Physiology of the Medical Student
from facetious pens was reached to us over the
Atlantic by friendly booksellers some years
ago; and we should have had by this time
"the Physiology of the young Attorney."
He is a good subject for dissection; there's
plenty of venous humor in his composition;
and oh! a deal of nerve!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Talk of exploring expeditions to the Arctic
regions as offering specimens of courage and
prowess; or of scientific excursions into the
wilds of Africa to the same purport! These
instances are trivial compared to the courage
and prowess yearly displayed by hundreds of
attorneys who plunge into the ocean of litigation
in order to swim towards the distant
buoys which the sun of prosperity always
cheers with enlivening beams.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Don't waste sympathy in this connection
for the young Sawbones. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">His</span></span> thirst for action
can be slaked at pauper fountains. For
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">him</span></span> the emigrant's chamber, the cabin of the
arriving ship, the dispensary, the asylums,
the hospitals, and the poor-houses, are always
open; and if his "soul be in arms," there are
(Heaven knows) "frays" in this city numerous
enough for any ambitious surgical eagerness.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But for the aspiring attorney where are
the avenues open for gratuitous action? Do
merchants nail up promissory notes upon awning
posts for attorneys to seize and put in
suit? What "old nobs" of Wall-street are
willing to put themselves "in chancery" to
oblige Hopper Tape, Esq., your humble attendant
upon the
Where are the courts possessing suits without
counsel?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We may be told of unfortunate wretches
who murder in drunken fits to whom counsel
are assigned. But what are ten crusts of
bread per annum among a thousand hungry
dogs?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thou must face the truth, young college
boy, who now and then dost stroll into court-rooms,
or who dost lounge away an hour in
a friend's law office admiring his books and
piles of papers—thinking the while of the
time when thou wilt have graduated and obtained
permission to hang up thy pomp-gilded
"shingle:" <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">thou must face the truth</span></span>! The
counsel who so attracts thy admiration, in
thy court-room lounging, has fought weary
years with myriad obstacles; there are the
ashes of many nights and days of toil and
struggle sprinkled upon his hair; he has
fought his way (from where thou sittest a
listener to where he stands a speaker), as if
through an Indian gauntlet file. There were
a hundred mouths waiting for the first crumbs
which came to his impatient legal digestion;
and a hundred envious heads and hearts to
worry him if possible into a dyspepsia over
those crumbs. He has began with an office
in a fifth story, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">climbed down</span></span> towards the
street. He commenced to hive his honey
near the roof! While out of his office he
climbed a professional ladder, the holding on
to which tasked all his powers of physical,
mental, and pecuniary endurance. Face the
truth!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Reach me yonder diary and legal register.
Two thousand practising lawyers in the city
of New-York! Out of these one hundred
are "notables;" fifty are "distinguished;"
twenty-five are eminent.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A large body of them are "conveyancers"
growing thin in person and thinner in mind
over deeds and titles; a larger body "attorneys"—getters
up and supervisors of suits—providers
of ammunition for "distinguished
counsel" to discharge with loud reports (the
said counsel brilliant by the flash: the attorney
obscured in the smoke); many, very
many, chained to "larcenies" at the Sessions,
"landlord dispossessions" at the Marine Court,
suits on butcher's bills at Ward Courts, or
"malicious prosecutions" in the Common
Pleas.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Yet there are hundreds of coral reefs and
pearls for persevering divers in this ocean
of litigation. Three thousand pending cases
every month are three thousand nutshells<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page176">[pg 176]</span><a name="Pg176" id="Pg176" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
where the meat is often fresh and oily, even
with the weary keeping on the calendar for
months and years. There are <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">some</span></span> counsel
who pocket fees and costs to the tune of twenty
thousand a year. We know many a Quirk,
Gammon and Snap, who realize an undoubted
"ten thousand a year," with no Tittlebat Titmouse
for a standing annoyance. And we
can taper off on the finger many who do not
realize five hundred a year, and work like negro
slaves at that: they are continually rough
hewing, but no divinity shapes their ends.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Five years of "starvation," and five more
years of toil and trouble, constitute the depth
of a lawyer's slough of despond in New-York;
to say nothing of the giants' castles
to storm upon the way, or the fights with the
Apolyons of Envy. Obviously so!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A man now-a-days will let a young Sawbones
advise ice for his child's croup, or even
experiment with his own much-abused liver,
when he would not intrust a young attorney
with the suing a note where ten witnesses
saw the note signed and the "consideration
money" paid over. And if the public really
knew how much danger their pockets were
in when the "buttons" were under the control
of inexperienced lawyers, the number of
"starvers" would be doubled. What "eminent"
lawyer is there who does not look back
to the "practice" of his youth, in perfect terror
to witness the mistakes he made, as the
helmsman, who has scudded through the
breakers to the open sea, glances back at the
dangers he escaped?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The young lawyers of a year back are,
however, five years—perhaps ten—in advance
of the lawyers of this year's growth.
The latter have greater rivalry in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">hordes</span></span>
of practitioners from the interior whom the
"new code" have driven from their <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">trespass
quare clausum fregit</span></span> into the city. Many of
them, too, were men of mark in their ports of
departure, bold and confident in their new
haven!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One field, however, in the legal township
of this city, offers room upon its face for
tillers—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">the field of advocacy</span></span>! It is ploughed
by some twenty or thirty, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">harrowed</span></span> by
some fifty or sixty. There are a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">dozen</span></span> whom
the ghosts of Nisi Prius flock to hear upon
great occasions. And these will long hold
the monopoly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Why?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Because the advocate and barrister must
have had vast experience at Nisi Prius (or the
court where matters of fact are investigated
by judge and jury); have acquired a practised
tact; have had opportunities of testing their
own calibre to know if they are fitted for
emergencies—as the gunsmith tests his barrels
before he "stocks" them. And the
young lawyer has small opportunity afforded
him to acquire this tact—to permit this testing.
If he can play "devil" for a few years
to some barrister of extended practice, or
scent "occasions" like a blood-hound on the
trail of the valuable fugitive from justice,
then he is a happy man, and is in the fair way
of soon becoming a monopolist himself.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Any juryman of two years' standing will
corroborate our statement as to the openness
of the field of legal advocacy. How often
has he seen cause after cause "set down,"
"reserved," or "put off," because counsel
are engaged elsewhere? How often has he
heard the same advocate in four or five causes
in the same week, in the same court, changing
positions like the queen of an active chess-board;
profiting his fame and pocket by
means of only a hurried glance at the elaborate
brief which his junior has "got up" for
him?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Some one has said that the barrister works
hard, lives well, and dies poor. Regarding
the first two conditions of his life there is little
doubt upon the question of truth; the dying
in poverty <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">may be</span></span> problematical. Yet in
a recent print, professing to furnish a list of
wealthy tax-payers, the list contained four
lawyers, and only one was a barrister. The
instance proves little, for a lawyer may be
very rich and yet pay no taxes. The assessors
may fight shy of his bell-pull as they go
their rounds, because of his penchant to find
flaws in their actions and bring them official
discredit in an apparently laborious task, but
in reality a sinecure of an employment.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We have often asked ourselves if barristers
have stomachs. Bowels of compassion they
have not, that is certain; but have they stomachs?
Say nine times in a year they dine
at the same hour of the day; and then spoon
their soup with the blood all drawn from the
digestive apparatus to feed the brain. Yet
they eat like aldermen and drink like German
princes....</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This much of idle reverie, as, with pen in
hand, we laid down the two bulky and elaborately-published
volumes whose title we have
taken as text; this much of glance at the
condition of the young and old advocate of
to-day, before we digest our reflections upon
the advocate and jurist of the past.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was our privilege in our legal novitiate
(this is but <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">a phrase</span></span>; for a lawyer is always
in his novitiate) to have been, at the Cambridge
Law School, a pupil of Mr. Justice
Story; and thus to have drank at the very
fountain head of constitutional law—that
branch of our national jurisprudence which
can least fluctuate. Judges of a day and not
of a generation, or crazy legislators with spasmodic
wisdom, may alter, and overturn, and
mystify by simplification, the laws and usages
of every-day life; but it is scarcely to be apprehended
that the current of our constitutional
law will ever be diverted from original
channels. There is danger rather of its being
dammed into stagnation.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While fully aware of his faults and foibles
as a man, and his idiosyncracies as a judge
and a legal writer, we have never wavered
in loyalty to his judicial majesty, or found a<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page177">[pg 177]</span><a name="Pg177" id="Pg177" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
flaw in the regard we paid to his memory.
And no book was more welcome to Zimmerman
in his solitude than these volumes regarding
the illustrious judge, prepared by his
son, were welcome to our Christmas-holiday
leisure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Joseph Story was the eldest of eleven children,
and lived to be indeed the "Joseph"
of mark and renown to his father and brothers.
He was born in Marblehead, September
18th, 1779. His father was a physician,
and served during a portion of the Revolution
as army surgeon. He died when the future
judge was twenty-six years of age: yet what
the son then was is best told by one sentence
from the father's will—after making his wife
sole executrix, he recommends her to his son
Joseph, adding, "and although this perhaps
is needless, I do it to mark my special confidence
in his affections, skill, and abilities."
From the father, our lawyer thus panegyrized
received friendly geniality and broad understanding;
from the mother, indomitable will,
vigor and enthusiasm.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Habit of observation and desire of knowledge
were the prominent attributes of his
childish character; nevertheless he was ardent
in all the sports of boyhood. To the
last he maintained a regard for his honor,
which induced him while yet a lad, and under
promise not to divulge the name of a schoolmate
offender, to receive a severe flogging
rather than to yield up his knowledge upon
the subject. At the age of sixteen, in the
midst of a Freshman term at Harvard College,
he thought of matriculation; but upon inquiry
learned that he must not only be examined
upon the works of ordinary preparatory
reading, but that it was necessary for
him to expect a call upon the volumes which
his class had dispatched during the past half
year. At first he was daunted, but remembering
there yet remained six weeks of vacation,
he addressed himself to the necessary
labor—the severity of which is best evidenced
by the fact that in the short time above
mentioned he read Sallust, the odes of Horace,
two books of Livy, three books of the
Anabasis, two books of the Iliad, and certain
English treatises. This sounds like the railroad
instruction now much in vogue; but its
effects were permanent in value upon his
mind. Few readers of his works will accuse
him of a want of proficiency in Latin! But
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">often</span></span> reading—the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">saepe legendo</span></span> was
ever his habit: for he remembered the couplet:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Gutta cavat lapidem non vi sed saepe cadendo</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Sic homo fit doctus non vi sed saepe legendo.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He passed muster with the college tutors
in January, 1795. Among his classmates were
the (afterwards Reverends) Dr. Tuckerman
and Wm. E. Channing—to the genius and
character of the latter of whom he always
bore the most enthusiastic and hearty testimony.
Indeed he contested with Channing
for the highest honor. Channing won it, but
always gave the honor himself to Story;
while the latter always declared that the former
won the just meed of his genius and
scholarship.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Their graduation was in the summer of
1798: and immediately upon quitting college
Mr. Story commenced the study of the law
with Mr. Samuel Sewall, afterwards Chief Justice
in the Supreme Court of Massachusetts.
Fourteen hours a day was over his quantum
of study. Although sometimes disheartened,
he never surrendered his determination to
master the elements and details of his new
profession.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Studying</span></span> law in those days was a far different
thing from its <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">reading</span></span> now. Then it
was <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">multum</span></span>: now it is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">multa</span></span>. No copious
indexes and multifarious treatises were counted
by thousands: no digests (directories to
the streets, the avenues, the fountains and the
temples of the science), abounded by scores.
Libraries were carried about in wheelbarrows
and not in processions of vans, when the inexorable
moving day came around. Learned
judges were not then compelled to hold courts
in remote villages (resorting hereby to a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">coup
de loi</span></span>), in order to escape the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cacoethes loquendi</span></span>
of case lawyers and presuming juniors.
Legal lore was builded up like the massive
stone and hard grained mortar of the
edifices of that olden time—slowly, carefully,
but lastingly; not as are builded now the
brick and stuccoed mansions of the snob and
parvenu. Not that abounding treatises and
familiarizing digests forbid the idea of the
perfect lawyer now-a-days: only that to-day
the law student in the midst of a large library
stands more in need (when thinking of the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">otium</span></span> which accompanies certain dignity), to
utter the ejaculation, "lead us not into temptation"—the
temptation of possessing that
knowledge which teaches where to seek for
information, and not the kind which is information
of itself.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In 1801 Mr. Story came to the Salem bar
while at the age of twenty-two. After being
three years at practice he married his first
wife, who died within two years afterward,
plunging him into the deepest grief. During
his courtship he dabbled (as almost every
young lawyer does until he finds that clients
are severe critics) in poetry, and wrote a
didactic poem of two parts in heroic verse,
entitled "The Power of Solitude." Adopting
the criticism of the biographers—its prominent
defects were exaggeration of feeling,
confusion of imagery, want of simplicity of
expression, stilted and artificial style. But
though dull as a poem, it shows facility and
talent for versification, breathes a warm aspiration
for virtue and truth, and is creditable
to the scholarship of its author.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After the loss of his wife he sought relief
from painful thoughts in the laborious duties
of a large and increasing business. His position
at the bar was prominent, and he was
engaged in nearly all the cases of importance.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page178">[pg 178]</span><a name="Pg178" id="Pg178" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
His manner to the jury was earnest and
spirited; he managed his causes with tact
(that great acquirement of the successful
lawyer: being, as a distinguished barrister
now dead and gone said to Dr. Hosack, the
same sheet anchor to the advocate which mercury
or bark is to the physician), was ready
in attack or defence, and possessed great eloquence
of expression. As an advocate he
showed a sagacity of perception which no intricacy
of detail could blind, no suddenness
of attack confuse, and which afterwards so
distinguished him as a Judge. He was thrown
among the leading lawyers; and undaunted
as all young lawyers should be (although preserving
their modesty of deportment and learning),
he measured swords with the most accomplished.
Although sometimes vanquished, he
always received honors from even the victors.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is a prevailing opinion with the junior
members of the legal profession, that their
seniors delight in snubbing them; that they
are fond of being discourteous, and arrogant;
that they are envious of some and insulting
to others. But it is rare indeed that the seniors
err on other ground in this respect than
magnanimity. The industrious youngster,
the self-reliant youngster, the firm but respectful
youngster, the versed in elementary
principles among youngsters, are always received
with open arms. Law begets law. If
the junior commences a suit a senior may answer
it: and the reverse. The parson and
the doctor are in perpetual interference with
the neighbors and brethren of their particular
calling. But lawyers, like bees in the
beehive, must of necessity assist and succor
each other, or there will be less honey laid
away when the summer is past and the harvest
ended.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Early in his professional career he became
an ardent politician. He was a Jeffersonian
Democrat, and at the bar of his residence
stood almost alone in his partisan position.
As such a party man he went into the State
Legislature, and became an acknowledged
leader. He possessed that great quality for
a leader, the faculty of extempore speaking,
joined with the ability to condense and elucidate
the topics he took in hand. But he
never submitted the convictions of his judgment
to party dictation; and soon after his
entering the arena of legislative warfare, he
bravely stemmed party tide in advocating an
increase of salaries for the State judges. The
latter were all federalists, and it was not to
be wondered that the republicans of that
day, who wore in their noses the rings of
party, should shrug their shoulders at the
prospect of benefiting political opponents.
But by his firm conduct, and by his confident
assertion and able arguments in favor of the
measure, it was carried. And to Joseph
Story, more than any other man, Massachusetts
is indebted for the opportunity of employing
ablest judicial officers, without making
their families beggars.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is the disgrace of our country that its
judicial officers are the most poorly paid of
all professions and pursuits. And in every
section of the Union, that distinguished lawyer
who accepts a seat upon the bench, must
hold the glories of his honor at a very high
price, to surrender his ordinary professional
emoluments for the wretched pittance which
the various States dole out for days of public
toil and nights of private study. We desire
to look no further than this Empire State for
examples. This Empire State, with its magnificent
resources and proudly developing
energies, should be the last to unite in adjudging
its judicial officers to the labors of
galley slaves, and to then pay them by the
year less than a ballet-dancer receives by
the month in all its principal cities. Two
thousand five hundred dollars per year is the
astounding sum which this same Empire
State pays to its highest judicial officers. If
we reverse the saying of Walpole, and read
"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">every price has its man</span></span>," we may not wonder
if Dogberries and grandmothers are occasionally
found upon the bench, dispensing
their honest but destructive platitudes, and
their Malaprop constructions of commercial
law, to juries of astounded merchants.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From the arena of State politics, Mr. Story
next changed his position to the temple of
national discussions at Washington. His career
in Congress was, however, limited to one
session, and to a vacancy-seat occasioned by
a death. He declined re-election; for in the
words of his autobiographical account of this
portion of his career, he had lost all relish
for political controversy, and had found that
an entire obedience to party projects required
such constant sacrifices of opinion and feeling,
that he preferred to devote himself with singleness
of heart to the study of the law,
which was at all times the object of his admiration
and almost exclusive devotion.
Public sentiment, however, forced him again
into the State councils at home, where more
liberty of professional engagement was permitted.
He was in political life but a brief
period again, before, in his thirty-second
year, President Madison pressed his acceptance
of a vacant Associate Justiceship in the
Supreme Court of the United States, which
had been declined by Levi Lincoln and by
John Quincy Adams, then in Russia. Although
the acceptance involved the surrender
of heavy professional emolument, the high
honor, the permanence of the tenure, and
the opportunity of gratifying his juridical
studies that he so much loved, joined in compelling
his acquiescence.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The atrocious crime of being a young
man," which had compelled a hatred of William
Pitt the younger, in a former day, was
now brought up against him by many whose
party subserviency fairly blushed before his
manly integrity, and by others who envied
him his success. But one year at the Circuit
silenced all complaint. And in his thirty-third<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page179">[pg 179]</span><a name="Pg179" id="Pg179" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
year he was acknowledged to be the
able jurist whom, at his death in his sixty-sixth
year of age, a whole nation mourned.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Dismissing for the present all consideration
of his judicial life, and all estimate of his
ability upon the bench, and passing over
nearly twenty years of his life, we meet him
in the possession of his fourth great honor in
life—but an honor which was ever the first
prized by him in all his after career—the appointment
of Law Professor in Cambrige
Law School.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mr. Nathan Dane, whose Abridgement of
American law in many volumes had obtained
for him the gratitude of the profession at
large, and the more substantial testimonial
of pecuniary profit, had determined, about the
fiftieth year of Judge Story's life, to repay
the law some of the profits which its votaries
had bestowed upon him, by donating ten
thousand dollars for the establishment of a
new professorship.  He annexed to his donation,
however, the condition that Judge Story
should be the incumbent. To the great delight
of the donor, and of the College Fellows,
the Judge assented, and was inaugurated
as Dane Professor of Law, with a special
view to Lectures upon the Law of Nations,
Commercial and Maritime Law, Federal Law
and Equity—a station which he filled to the
day of his lamented death.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This brief survey of his life presents him
then in several public aspects; as a student, as
an advocate, as a statesman, as a judge, and
as an expounder of the great principles of law,
which he worshipped with an idolatry of love.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">To speak of his political career would not
belong to the scope of our article. And to
sit in judgment upon his judicial career would
be our presumption. Older and abler pens
must render their tributes to the extent and
varied richness of his legal lore, which, taking
root in principles, branched into the minutiæ
of detail, under every sun and in every clime
where law is recognized as a rule of human
action. His judicial fame can never be increased
or diminished by individual estimate.
The law of patents, of admiralty and prizes,
the jurisprudence of equity, and above all,
his luminous explorations of what were once
constitutional labyrinths, are monuments as
indestructible as the Pyramids. If every
trace of their original oneness be lost, they
will yet live in the hours of future judicial
days, in professional acts, and in the guiding
policy of a remote posterity. His library of
treatises are legal classics; and the worst defects
which flippant carpers and canvassers
of their claims to merit have discovered in
their pages, have been their richness of detail
and polish of learning! And no one can
deny that as a judge he was the very example
which 'Hobbes' in his 'Leviathan,' carried
in mind when he thus wrote—"the
things that make a good judge or good interpreter
of the laws, are first—a right understanding
of that principal law of nature
called Equity, which depending not on the
reading of other men's writings, but on the
goodness of a man's own natural reason and
meditation, is presumed to be in those most
who have had most leisure and the most inclination
to meditate thereon; second—contempt
of unnecessary riches and preferments;
third—to be able in judgment to divest himself
of all fear, anger, hatred, love and compassion;
fourthly and lastly—patience to
hear, diligent attention in hearing, and
memory to retain, digest, and apply what he
hath heard."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Not the least amiable phase of the life of
Judge Story, was the attention which he
gave to letters and literary pursuits. He was
no <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">mere</span></span> lawyer: no stringer of professional
centos. He never hid his heart with the
veil of dignity; nor smothered his fresh impulses
(preserved intact from worldly rust
since boyhood) with the weight of his judicial
and professional labors. While he believed
that the law was a jealous mistress, he
knew that this mistress was too stable and
sensible to decree that a gentle dalliance or
seasonable flirtation with her maids of honor—Poetry,
or the Arts, or Literature, or Love—was
an unloyal act. He could turn from
Grotius to Dickens, from Vattel to Thackeray.
He could digest the points of the elaborate
arguments of eminent counsel, and then turn
aside to a gentle tonic from the administrating
hand of Smollett or Walter Scott.
Method was his master-key to all the combinations
in the locks of labor.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Twice married he never ceased to eulogize
the bliss of domesticity. Surrounded by loving
eyes, the currents of his freshened affection
flowed deeper and clearer every year. How
he treasured home and home joys may be
collected in the following lines from his
poem on solitude (before referred to), written
in his twenty-second year.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Grandeur may dazzle with its transient glare</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The herd of folly, and the tribe of care,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who sport and flutter through their listless days,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Like motes that bask in Summer's noontide blaze,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With anxious steps round vacant splendor while,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Live on a look, and banquet on a smile;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But the firm race whose high endowments claim</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The laurel-wreath that decks the brow of fame;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who warmed by sympathy's electric glow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In rapture tremble, and dissolve in woe,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Blest in <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">retirement</span></span>, scorn the frowns of fate,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And feel a transport power can ne'er create."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Touching the poem from which these lines
are taken, we remember being shown the
only copy of the published book which was
known to exist, by the family of the Judge.
The Assistant Librarian (who was born for
his station in all that regards enthusiastic
love of his duties), of the Harvard College
library, showed us, with great triumph, a
small sheep-bound volume, entitled "Solitude
and other Poems, by Joseph Story,"
printed sometime in the commencement of
this century: saying, "the Judge has burned
all the copies he can pick up, and this is only
to be read here." This poem was a sore
subject to the author. He viewed it as not<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page180">[pg 180]</span><a name="Pg180" id="Pg180" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
only a blot upon his dignity, but an annoyance
to his professional fame. Numerous
critics have laughed at it; but apart from the
shorter poems, the main theme showed much
aptitude of poetic imagery, invention, and
harmony of expression. Glance at the following
lines, which contain much of the
genuine spark:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Till nature's self the Vandal torch should raise,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And the vast alcove of creation blaze."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Or this—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Blaze the vast domes inwrought with fretted gold,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The sumptuous pavements veins or pearl unfold,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Arch piled on arch with columned pride ascend,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Grove linked to grove their mingling shadows blend."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Or this—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Let narrow prudence boast its grovelling art</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To chill the generous sympathies of heart,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Teach to subdue each thought sublimely wild,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And crush, like Herod, fancy's new-born child."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is highly probable that the learned Justice,
knowing his taste for the poetical and
fanciful, and his aptitude at the harmony of
language, often erred in his judicial writings
and treatises, by avoiding beauty of expression,
in fear lest the dignity of his subject
should be injured by too much association
with the creatures of fancy. We have known
most accomplished lawyers err through this
same caution. Our biographer himself (Mr.
William W. Story) has certainly done himself
great injustice as a writer in his work on
"Contracts," when, in the pages before us,
he presents us with so much delicacy of fancy
and rhetorical finish. Blackstone in his
"Commentaries," Jones in his "Bailment"
treatise, Stephens in his essay upon "Pleading,"
time-honored Fearne in his "Contingent
Remainders," have shown how grateful and
how suitable it is for the legal readers to find
brilliancy of rhetoric adorning the most profound
learning.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But certainly Judge Story possessed to a
remarkable degree the faculty of condensation
in his poetical works. His rhyme was
not reason run mad; but reason in modest
holiday attire. Where are lines at once so
compact and so searching in their wisdom as
the following, penned in 1832, as matters of
advice to a young law student:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Whene'er you speak, remember every cause</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Stands not on eloquence, but stands on laws—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Pregnant in matter, in expression brief,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Let every sentence stand in bold relief;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">On trifling points nor time nor talents waste,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">A sad offence to learning and to taste;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor deal with pompous phrase; nor e'er suppose</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Poetic flights belong to reasoning prose,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Loose declamation may deceive the crowd,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And seem more striking as it grows more loud;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But sober sense rejects it with disdain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As nought but empty noise, and weak as vain.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The froth of words, the school-boy's vain parade</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of books and cases—all his stock in trade—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The pert conceits, the cunning tricks and play</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of low attorneys, strung in long array,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The unseemly jest, the petulent reply,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That chatters on, and cares not how, or why,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Studious, avoid—unworthy themes to scan,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">They sink the speaker and disgrace the man.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Like the false lights, by flying shadows cast,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Scarce seen when present, and forgot when past.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Begin with dignity: expound with grace</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Each ground of reasoning in its time and place;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Let order reign throughout—each topic touch,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor urge its power too little, or too much.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Give each strong thought its most attractive view,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In diction clear, and yet severely true,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And as the arguments in splendor grow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Let each reflect its light on all below.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When to the close arrive make no delays</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">By petty flourishes, or verbal plays,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But sum the whole in one deep solemn strain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Like a strong current hastening to the main."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If Mr. Story had never been elevated to
the bench it is not likely his name would ever
have become national property. Although
plunged into politics in his earlier life, he was
not fitted for the life. His devotion to the
law, and his dread of becoming that slave to
party usages which all public men must necessarily
more or less fashion of themselves,
would have retained him in his native state,
and made his usefulness sectional. To the
politicians of the school of General Jackson,
and to the administration of that President, he
was particularly distasteful. His tenacious
conservatism drew forth from the "old hero,"
on one occasion, the remark, that "he was
the most dangerous man in the country."
Lord Eldon, with his doubts and pertinacious
toryism was not more unpopular among the
reformers in England than was Judge Story—the
last of the old regime of federal judges—with
the bank radicals of 1832.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When Chief Justice Marshall died he felt
almost broken-hearted. A new race of constitutional
expounders had arisen around him.
Brother justices, with modern constructions,
and more liberal notions of national law,
were by his side. In many decisions he was
now a sole dissenter. His pride was invaded;
his self-love tortured; his adoration of certain
legal constructions which he had deemed
immutable in their nature, was desecrated.
And, for many years previous to his decease,
he had contemplated resigning from the federal
judiciary, and living alone for his darling
law school.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This school was his adopted child. He had
taken it in a feeble and helpless infancy. He
had given it strength and increased vitality.
He brought it up to a vigorous and useful
maturity. It was loved by only a handful of
students when he gave his name and talents
to aid its life: but when he died, a hundred
and fifty pupils were its warm suitors, and
hundreds of lawyers over the whole union
cherished its prosperity as a link in their own
chains of happiness.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And, although he thought not of it, his labors
in the law school secure for his memory
in the present generation a more brilliant existence
than his array of judicial decisions,
and his thousands of written pages, can ever
bestow. In some pine forest settlement of
Maine, or in some rude court-house in California,
there are lawyers who bring before
them every day his genial smiles and his impressive
lectures, looked upon and heard by
them in former times at Cambridge. Over
all the Union, in almost every village, town,
and city, are his pupils. Each one of them
may sometimes reflect with rapture upon
their days of college life, or remember with<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page181">[pg 181]</span><a name="Pg181" id="Pg181" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
pride their first professional success: but
not one of these considerations of reminiscence
is so grateful to his mind as the thought
of his novitiate with Justice Story. Depend
upon it he treasures up those Cambridge text-books,
those Cambridge note-books whose
leaves daguerreotype the learning of the eminent
deceased, those catalogues of students
where his name is proudly found, as the most
valuable portions of his library. He will never
part with them: but they will descend
to his children.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was our privilege and pleasure also to
know Mr. Justice Story at Cambridge; to
have spent days of pleasure in the hours of his
society; to have rendered to his teachings
the tribute of delighted attention and grateful
recollection. We, too, have been fascinated
with that conversation, whose variety of exuberance
and sometimes egotism, were its
greatest ornaments. In the sunshine of his
intellect our mind has sunned itself, and been
warmed into zealous and proselyting admiration.
To his gray-haired teachings we have
paid personal reverence, and we unaffectedly
hope to have caught from his society and intercourse
a spark of that professional enthusiasm
which is the only true guiding-star of
the plodding lawyer.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The December blasts are hoarsely sobbing
to-night through Mount Auburn, the garden
of his mortal repose—the hallowed spot
which his eloquence consecrated in its origin,
and which his religious love in his lifetime
sacredly cherished. The snows of winter
and the autumn-woven carpet of fallen leaves
are heaped upon his honored grave, the sodded
paths to which, in the glowing spring-time
and fragrant summer, are pressed most
frequent with the tread of faithful mourners.
Years have passed since that honored grave
was first closed upon him. Longer years have
flown since we were under his teachings. But
we seem to view him the same as of yore.
Again the class is assembled in the hushed
lecture-room as his familiar tread is heard at
the door; or as the burst of applause, where
there is no sycophantic flattery known or
felt, greets his entrance to his seat. Again
we see him adjusting his genial spectacles,
and looking around upon the upturned faces
with parental pride. Again we hear his
mellowed, although often impetuous accents,
expounding familiar principles of law, and
descending to the consideration of "first
things" with as much pride and carefulness as
the artist treats his Rubens or Titian, which
for years and years has hung before him in
all lights and shades and in every combination
of position.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Again, we occupy a modest corner of the
library while he is holding his moot court;
infusing into the dignity of his manner a
marked suavity of disposition which never
forsook him; or he is perpetrating some appropriate
legal joke to his audience, who
never played upon his ease or good nature.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Again, we have stolen into the self-same
library while he is holding an equity term of
his circuit, to listen to the words of judicial
wisdom which came from his utterance, exuberant
as pearls of fancy from the mouth of
an inspired poet.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Again, we see him at the summer twilight,
seated by the trellised portico of his hospitable
and happy homestead, surrounded by
family or friends, enjoying the amenities of
life with unaffected pleasure, and sometimes
awakening the garden echoes with his cheerful
ringing laugh; or we see him in the same
hour of the day driving under the venerable
elms of the numerous commons, gazing and
bowing around with all the pleasure which
the king of the fairy book marked upon his
face when the love of his subjects, among
whom he passed, came forth with the evening
breeze to bless and greet him.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And then we pass into "reverie," and live
a few minutes of "dream-life," recalling to
mind the maxims and sayings which were uttered
in our presence; and the many bright
exemplars placed before his pupils, and the
kindly greetings which were showered all
about—for he was no distinguisher of persons
so long as honor of feeling and uprightness
of motive abounded in his presence.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He is gone! Yet in these pages of biography
before us he will always live. From infancy
to the ripened greatness of old age, his
life is preserved to posterity by the hand of
his faithful and grateful son, whose duty has
been most ably and interestingly performed.
The very minutiæ of his life are presented
with fidelity and modesty of reference. Some
may carp at this; to these let us say with
the French proverbialist, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Rien n'est indifférent
dans la vie d'un grand homme; le genie
se revéle dans ses moindres actions</span></span>. The
straws of every day life mark the direction
of the breezes of individual action.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">To the hearts of his pupils we would send
this epitaph, and ask them if aught less tributary
could be said of one who was and is to
them a father.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Here sleeps the mortality of Joseph Story,
who lived his days so well that he won in a
short lifetime an immortality of fame. His
career as a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Man</span></span> reflected lustre upon the
lustre of an honored father's manhood, and
added to the virtues which his mother bequeathed
him. As a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Politician</span></span>, he rendered
obeisance only to his conscience. As a
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lawyer</span></span>, he never disgraced his profession by
a thought, and even honored it by his slightest
acts. The colleague of Marshall, the two
now shine together as twin stars in the often
contemplated firmament of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Judicial Renown</span></span>.
Not selfish of his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Learning</span></span>, it is scattered to
the uttermost parts of the earth, and is treasured
wherever it has fallen. The learning
which he borrowed from continental Europe
he repaid with magnificent interest. In Westminster
Hall his name is associated with Nottingham,
Hale, Mansfield, and Stowell. Counting<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page182">[pg 182]</span><a name="Pg182" id="Pg182" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
as dross the wealth of professional eminence,
he became from the love of it an expounder
of law to its tyros. He has spread
for thousands of adopted children a banquet
of the treasures of legal lore, and next to reverencing
his paternal love they cherish with
profound gratitude the memory of his slightest
instructions. While the Union of his birthplace
exists, her citizens will regard with unfeigned
admiration his constitutional teachings.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc35" id="toc35"></a>
<a name="pdf36" id="pdf36"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">COLUMBUS AT THE GATES OF GENOA.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY THE AUTHOR OF "NILE NOTES OF A HOWADJI."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Christopher Columbus was born at Genoa in 1437. In 1851 the Genoese
are finishing his monument.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I am Columbus: will ye let me in?</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Or Doria in his palace by the sea.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Proud Andrea Doria named il Principe,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In your Republic named il Principe,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">By Charles the Fifth, the Emperor of Spain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Monopolizes he your meed of fame</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Before the awful Judgment seat of Time.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Well, and Pisani, the Venetian, he,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Venice as Doria was Genoa,—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Why, wide-mouthed Europe clanged their stunning praise,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And history with their names adorns herself,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Dazzing the eyes of pious pilgrims, who</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Press flowers from Doria's garden, dreaming float</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Upon Pisani's silent waters, and</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Proceed, much meditating human fate.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And they had pleasures, palaces. They stood,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And sat, and went, all men admiring,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Men of a day, in its brief life they lived,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In its swift dying died. Men of a day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Brave, generous, and noble—not enough.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Voluptuous Venice, Genoa superb,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Far fascinating meteors that flashed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then fell forgotten. Do I carp? Not I.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ye love your own, I mine, mine me, amen!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">O pious pilgrims and ye Genoese,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Proceed, much meditating human fate,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And meditate this well.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 8.00em">A wanderer driven</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">By every adverse gust of evil times.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Wrecked upon barren reefs of blandest smiles,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Wan victim of a solitary thought</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Too masculine to die unrealized.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tortured with tortuous diplomacy,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Beseeching monarchs still in vain besought,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Not to give kingdoms but to take a world,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Unloved of Fortune, best beloved of Hope,—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When Doria was a lisping boy at school,—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">This wanderer puts forth one summer morn,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Among the other fishers of the sea,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And with a world returns.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 8.00em">Nay! nay! no words.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Your hemisphere was only half enough,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Christopher Columbus globed his fame.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And now ye build my statue, Genoese,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">After three silent centuries have died,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When the old fourth is failing, ye do well</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With lagging stones to pile the pedestal,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And shape my sculptured seeming. Not with wrath,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor scorn. Good God and less with gratitude,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Be those worn features wreathed. I love ye not,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ye are no friends of mine. I did not ask</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">A block of marble for my memory,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But gold to carve my hope. It was not much—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nay, had it been your all, was it not well</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To wreck your fortune on a hope sublime?</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And, Merchants! The brave chance; a small outlay,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And income inconceivable! You chose.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My stately Spain was wiser. So much gold,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">A little fleet,—some sailors—leaders known—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If not investment, speculation safe,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The honor of the enterprise, and chance—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Always the siren chance—Spain risked and won,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Genoa lost a world.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 8.00em">Sir Advocate!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I understand your meaning; it were hard</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fame drafts upon the Future should be paid</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ere present recognition! 'Twere unjust</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That hope unhazarded in act, were crowned</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With the same coronal that crowns success.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The starving mariner upon your shore—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The riddle of the West unsolved—stood not</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In the same light to set his worthiness,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As when an unimagined Future streamed</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">All over him in glory. Yet he stood</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In that light lonely, as in the old dark,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Lonely, but looking to that light for life.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Spring-pinioned Hope impetuously flew,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And saw, through the deep Future shedding balm,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His fame a tree in flower.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 8.00em">If that were all?</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If in his vision of America</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He saw but Christopher made famous? Look!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Not for himself; but for that martyr, Thought,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Which struggles fainting in a foolish world,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To ope a gate to wisdom, his heart swelled</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">When his fixed eye beheld his soul's belief</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fulfilled in Western twilight. Thou my land!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Shalt thunder to the ages evermore</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That dreams and hopes are holy. Thou shalt still</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The croaking voice of souls that shake at dawn,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Loving the dimness of their own decay,—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The lone desire, entreaty and despair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The wasting weariness that breeds disgust,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">All woes but Doubt that, wasp-like, stings Hope back,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">There are ye justified. And never Time</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Goldening this page can slip its moral too:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And never Thought, loving this sweet success,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But still shall love its own wild dreams the more.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And still shall brighter gild all skiey peaks</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of noble daring, with this perfect day.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Regard your leisure with my monument,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My Genoese, for centuries to be</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Will yet retain Its reason as to day.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">There, where my hope was builded, stands my Fame,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The youngest children of the youngest race.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The wide worlds heritors, arch-heirs of Time,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Pronounce my name with reverence, and call</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Your sometime outcast, Father. Be it so.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Andrea's palace claims repairs perhaps,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The sculptured letters must be cut anew,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That on the crumbling girdle of his house</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Proclaim him Principe. That be your task,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And pare your miserable marble, me.</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc37" id="toc37"></a>
<a name="pdf38" id="pdf38"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">FEATHERTOP: A MORALIZED LEGEND.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Dickon," cried Mother Rigby, "a coal
for my pipe!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The pipe was in the old dame's mouth,
when she said these words. She had thrust
it there after filling it with tobacco, but without
stooping to light it at the hearth; where,
indeed, there was no appearance of a fire
having been kindled, that morning. Forthwith,
however, as soon as the order was
given, there was an intense red glow out of
the bowl of the pipe, and a whiff of smoke
from Mother Rigby's lips. Whence the coal
came, and how brought thither by an invisible
hand, I have never been able to discover.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Good!" quoth Mother Rigby, with a nod
of her head. "Thank ye, Dickon! And
now for making this scarecrow. Be within
call, Dickon, in case I need you again!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The good woman had risen thus early (for
as yet it was scarcely sunrise), in order to set
about making a scarecrow, which she intended
to put in the middle of her corn patch.
It was now the latter week of May, and the
crows and blackbirds had already discovered
the little, green, rolled-up leaf of the Indian
corn, just peeping out of the soil. She was
determined, therefore, to contrive as lifelike
a scarecrow as ever was seen, and to finish it
immediately, from top to toe, so that it should
begin its sentinel's duty that very morning.
Now, mother Rigby (as every body must have
heard) was one of the most cunning and potent
witches in New England, and might,
with very little trouble, have made a scarecrow<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page183">[pg 183]</span><a name="Pg183" id="Pg183" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
ugly enough to frighten the minister
himself. But, on this occasion, as she had
awakened in an uncommonly pleasant humor,
and was further dulcified by her pipe of tobacco,
she resolved to produce something
fine, beautiful, and splendid, rather than hideous
and horrible.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I don't want to set up a hobgoblin in my
own corn-patch, and almost at my own doorstep,"
said Mother Rigby to herself, puffing
out a whiff of smoke; "I could do it if I pleased;
but I'm tired of doing marvellous things,
and so I'll keep within the bounds of everyday
business, just for variety's sake. Besides,
there is no use in scaring the little children,
for a mile roundabout, though 'tis true I'm a
witch!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was settled, therefore, in her own mind,
that the scarecrow should represent a fine
gentleman of the period, so far as the materials
at hand would allow. Perhaps it may be
as well to enumerate the chief of the articles
that went to the composition of this figure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The most important item of all, probably,
although it made so little show, was a certain
broomstick, on which Mother Rigby had
taken many an airy gallop at midnight, and
which now served the scarecrow by way of
a spinal column, or, as the unlearned phrase
it, a backbone. One of its arms was a disabled
flail which used to be wielded by Goodman
Rigby, before his spouse worried him
out of this troublesome world; the other, if
I mistake not, was composed of the pudding-stick
and a broken rung of a chair, tied loosely
together at the elbow. As for its legs,
the right was a hoe-handle, and the left an
undistinguished and miscellaneous stick from
the wood pile. Its lungs, stomach, and other
affairs of that kind, were nothing better than
a meal bag, stuffed with straw. Thus, we
have made out the skeleton and entire corporcity
of the scarecrow, with the exception
of its head; and this was admirably supplied
by a somewhat withered and shrivelled pumpkin,
in which Mother Rigby cut two holes for
the eyes and a slit for the mouth, leaving a
bluish-colored knob in the middle, to pass for
a nose. It was really quite a respectable face.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I've seen worse ones on human shoulders,
at any rate," said Mother Rigby. "And many
a fine gentleman has a pumpkin head, as well
as my scarecrow!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But the clothes, in this case, were to be
the making of the man. So the good old
woman took down from a peg an ancient
plum-colored coat, of London make, and with
relics of embroidery on its seams, cuffs,
pocket-flabs, and button-holes, but lamentably
worn and faded, patched at the elbows,
tattered at the skirts, and threadbare all over.
On the left breast was a round hole, whence
either a star of nobility had been rent away,
or else the hot heart of some former wearer
had scorched it through and through. The
neighbors said, that this rich garment belonged
to the Black Man's wardrobe, and that
he kept it at Mother Rigby's cottage for the
convenience of slipping it on whenever he
wished to make a grand appearance at the
governor's table. To match the coat, there
was a velvet waistcoat of very ample size,
and formerly embroidered with foliage, that
had been as brightly golden as the maple-leaves
in October, but which had now quite
vanished out of the substance of the velvet.
Next came a pair of scarlet breeches, once
worn by the French governor of Louisbourg,
and the knees of which had touched the lower
step of the throne of Louis le Grand. The
Frenchman had given these small-clothes to
an Indian powwow, who parted with them
to the old witch for a gill of strong waters,
at one of their dances in the forest. Furthermore,
Mother Rigby produced a pair of silk
stockings, and put them on the figure's legs,
where they showed as unsubstantial as a
dream, with the wooden reality of the two
sticks making itself miserably apparent
through the holes. Lastly, she put her dead
husband's wig on the bare scalp of the pumpkin,
and surmounted the whole with a dusty
three-cornered hat, in which was stuck the
longest tail feather of a rooster.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then the old dame stood the figure up in
a corner of her cottage, and chuckled to behold
its yellow semblance of a visage, with
its nobby little nose thrust into the air. It
had a strangely self-satisfied aspect, and seemed
to say, "Come look at me!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And you are well worth looking at—that's
a fact!" quoth Mother Rigby, in admiration
at her own handiwork: "I've made
many a puppet, since I've been a witch; but
methinks this is the finest of them all. 'Tis
almost too good for a scarecrow. And, by
the by, I'll just fill a fresh pipe of tobacco,
and then take him out to the corn-patch."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While filling her pipe, the old woman continued
to gaze with almost motherly affection
at the figure in the corner. To say the truth,
whether it were chance, or skill, or downright
witchcraft, there was something wonderfully
human in this ridiculous shape, bedizened
with its tattered finery; and as for the
countenance, it appeared to shrivel its yellow
surface into a grin—a funny kind of expression,
betwixt scorn and merriment, as if it
understood itself to be a jest at mankind.
The more Mother Rigby looked, the better
she was pleased.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Dickon," cried she sharply, "another
coal for my pipe!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Hardly had she spoken than, just as before,
there was a red-glowing coal on the top of
the tobacco. She drew in a long whiff, and
puffed it forth again into the bar of morning
sunshine, which struggled through the one
dusty pane of her cottage window. Mother
Rigby always liked to flavor her pipe with a
coal of fire from the particular chimney corner
whence this had been brought. But
where that chimney corner might be, or who
brought the coal from it—further than that<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page184">[pg 184]</span><a name="Pg184" id="Pg184" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the invisible messenger seemed to respond to
the name of Dickon—I cannot tell.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That puppet, yonder," thought Mother
Rigby, still with her eyes fixed on the scarecrow,
"is too good a piece of work to stand
all summer in a corn-patch, frightening away
the crows and blackbirds. He's capable of
better things. Why, I've danced with a
worse one, when partners happened to be
scarce, at our witch-meetings in the forest!
What if I should let him take his chance
among the other men of straw and empty
fellows, who go bustling about the world?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The old witch took three or four more
whiffs of her pipe, and smiled.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He'll meet plenty of his brethren at every
street-corner!" continued she. "Well; I
didn't mean to dabble in witchcraft to-day,
further than the lighting of my pipe; but a
witch I am, and a witch I'm likely to be, and
there's no use trying to shirk it. I'll make a
man of my scarecrow, were it only for the
joke's sake!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While muttering these words, Mother Rigby
took the pipe from her own mouth, and
thrust it into the crevice which represented
the same feature in the pumpkin-visage of
the scarecrow.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Puff, darling, puff!" said she. "Puff
away, my fine fellow! your life depends on
it!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This was a strange exhortation, undoubtedly,
to be addressed to a mere thing of sticks,
straw, and old clothes, with nothing better
than a shrivelled pumpkin for a head; as we
know to have been the scarecrow's case.
Nevertheless, as we must carefully hold in
remembrance, Mother Rigby was a witch of
singular power and dexterity; and, keeping
this fact duly before our minds, we shall see
nothing beyond credibility in the remarkable
incidents of our story. Indeed, the great
difficulty will be at once got over, if we can
only bring ourselves to believe, that, as soon
as the old dame bade him puff, there came a
whiff of smoke from the scarecrow's mouth.
It was the very feeblest of whiffs, to be sure;
but it was followed by another and another,
each more decided than the preceding one.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Puff away, my pet! puff away, my pretty
one!" Mother Rigby kept repeating, with her
pleasantest smile. "It is the breath of life
to ye; and that you may take my word for!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Beyond all question the pipe was bewitched.
There must have been a spell either in
the tobacco or in the fiercely glowing coal
that so mysteriously burned on top of it, or
in the pungent aromatic smoke which exhaled
from the kindled weed. The figure,
after a few doubtful attempts, at length blew
forth a volley of smoke, extending all the
way from the obscure corner into the bar of
sunshine. There it eddied and melted away
among the motes of dust. It seemed a convulsive
effort; for the two or three next
whiffs were fainter, although the coal still
glowed, and threw a gleam over the scarecrow's
visage. The old witch clapt her skinny
hands together, and smiled encouragingly
upon her handiwork. She saw that the
charm worked well. The shrivelled, yellow
face, which heretofore had been no face at
all, had already a thin, fantastic haze, as it
were, of human likeness, shifting to and fro
across it; sometimes vanishing entirely, but
growing more perceptible than ever with
the next whiff from the pipe. The whole
figure, in like manner, assumed a show of
life, such as we impart to ill-defined shapes
among the clouds, and half-deceive ourselves
with the pastime of our own fancy.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If we must needs pry closely into the matter,
it may be doubted whether there was
any real change, after all, in the sordid,
worn-out, worthless, and ill-jointed substance
of the scarecrow; but merely a spectral illusion,
and a cunning effect of light and shade,
so colored and contrived as to delude the eyes
of most men. The miracles of witchcraft
seem always to have had a very shallow subtlety;
and, at least, if the above explanation
do not hit the truth of the process, I can
suggest no better.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well puffed, my pretty lad!" still cried
old Mother Rigby. "Come, another good,
stout whiff, and let it be with might and
main! Puff for thy life, I tell thee! Puff
out of the very bottom of thy heart; if any
heart thou hast, or any bottom to it! Well
done, again! Thou didst suck in that mouthfull
as if for the pure love of it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And then the witch beckoned to the scarecrow,
throwing so much magnetic potency
into her gesture, that it seemed as if it must
inevitably be obeyed, like the mystic call of
the loadstone, when it summons the iron.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why lurkest thou in the corner, lazy
one?" said she. "Step forth! Thou hast
the world before thee?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Upon my word, if the legend were not one
which I heard on my grandmother's knee,
and which had established its place among
things credible before my childish judgment
could analyze its probability, I question whether
I should have the face to tell it now!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In obedience to Mother Rigby's word, and
extending its arm as if to reach her out-stretched
hand, the figure made a step forward—a
kind of hitch and jerk, however,
rather than a step—then tottered, and almost
lost its balance. What could the witch expect?
It was nothing, after all, but a scarecrow,
stuck upon two sticks. But the strong-willed
old beldam scowled, and beckoned,
and flung the energy of her purpose so forcibly
at this poor combination of rotten wood,
and musty straw, and ragged garments, that
it was compelled to show itself a man, in spite
of the reality of things. So it stepped into the
bar of sunshine. There it stood—poor devil
of a contrivance that it was!—with only the
thinnest vesture of human similitude about
it, through which was evident the stiff, ricketty,
incongruous, faded, tattered, good-for-nothing<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page185">[pg 185]</span><a name="Pg185" id="Pg185" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
patchwork of its substance, ready to
sink in a heap upon the floor, as conscious of
its own unworthiness to be erect. Shall I
confess the truth? At its present point of
vivification, the scarecrow reminds me of
some of the lukewarm and abortive characters,
composed of heterogeneous materials,
used for the thousandth time, and never
worth using, with which romance-writers
(and myself, no doubt, among the rest), have
so over-peopled the world of fiction.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But the fierce old hag began to get angry,
and show a glimpse of her diabolic nature
(like a snake's head, peeping with a hiss out
of her bosom,) at this pusillanimous behavior
of the thing, which she had taken the trouble
to put together.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Puff away, wretch!" cried she, wrathfully.
"Puff, puff, puff, thou thing of straw
and emptiness!—thou rag or two!—thou
meal-bag!—thou pumpkin-head!—thou nothing!—where
shall I find a name vile
enough to call thee by! Puff, I say, and suck
in thy fantastic life along with the smoke; else
I snatch the pipe from thy mouth, and hurl
thee where that red coal came from!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thus threatened, the unhappy scarecrow
had nothing for it, but to puff away for dear
life. As need was, therefore, it applied itself
lustily to the pipe, and sent forth such abundant
volleys of tobacco-smoke, that the small
cottage-kitchen became all vaporous. The
one sunbeam struggled mistily through, and
could but imperfectly define the image of the
cracked and dusty window-pane on the opposite
wall. Mother Rigby, meanwhile, with
one brown arm akimbo, and the other
stretched towards the figure, loomed grimly
amid the obscurity, with such port and expression
as when she was wont to heave a
ponderous nightmare on her victims, and
stand at the bedside to enjoy their agony. In
fear and trembling did this poor scarecrow
puff. But its efforts, it must be acknowledged,
served an excellent purpose; for, with
each successive whiff, the figure lost more
and more of its dizzy and perplexing tenuity,
and seemed to take denser substance. Its
very garments, moreover, partook of the magical
change, and shone with the gloss of
novelty, and glistened with the skilfully embroidered
gold that had long ago been rent
away. And, half-revealed among the smoke,
a yellow visage bent its lustreless eyes on
Mother Rigby.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At last, the old witch clenched her fist,
and shook it at the figure. Not that she was
positively angry, but merely acting on the
principle—perhaps untrue, or not the only
truth, though as high a one as Mother Rigby
could be expected to attain—that feeble and
torpid natures, being incapable of better inspiration,
must be stirred up by fear. But
here was the crisis. Should she fail in what
she now sought to effect, it was her ruthless
purpose to scatter the miserable simulacre
into its original elements.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou hast a man's aspect," said she,
sternly. "Have also the echo and mockery
of a voice! I bid thee speak!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The scarecrow gasped, struggled, and at
length emitted a murmur, which was so incorporated
with its smoky breath that you
could scarcely tell whether it were indeed a
voice, or only a whiff of tobacco. Some
narrators of this legend, hold the opinion,
that Mother Rigby's conjurations, and the
fierceness of her will, had compelled a familiar
spirit into the figure, and that the voice was
his.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Mother," mumbled the poor stifled voice,
"be not so awful with me! I would fain
speak; but being without wits, what can I
say?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou canst speak, darling, canst thou?"
cried Mother Rigby, relaxing her grim countenance
into a smile. "And what shalt thou
say, quoth-a! Say, indeed! Art thou of the
brotherhood of the empty skull, and demandest
of me what thou shalt say? Thou shalt say
a thousand things, and saying them a thousand
times over, thou shalt still have said
nothing! Be not afraid, I tell thee! When
thou comest into the world (whither I purpose
sending thee, forthwith), thou shalt not
lack the wherewithal to talk. Talk! Why,
thou shalt babble like a mill-stream, if thou
wilt. Thou hast brains enough for that, I
trow!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"At your service, mother," responded the
figure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And that was well said, my pretty one!"
answered Mother Rigby. "Then thou spakest
like thyself, and meant nothing. Thou shalt
have a hundred such set phrases, and five
hundred to the boot of them. And now,
darling, I have taken so much pains with
thee, and thou art so beautiful, that, by my
troth, I love thee better than any witch's
puppet in the world; and I've made them of
all sorts—clay, wax, straw, sticks, night-fog,
morning-mist, sea-foam, and chimney-smoke!
But thou art the very best. So give heed
to what I say!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Yes, kind mother," said the figure,
"with all my heart!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"With all thy heart!" cried the old witch,
setting her hands to her sides, and laughing
loudly. "Thou hast such a pretty way of
speaking! With all thy heart! And thou
didst put thy hand to the left side of thy
waistcoat, as if thou really hadst one!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">So now, in high good humor with this fantastic
contrivance of hers, Mother Rigby told
the scarecrow that it must go and play its
part in the great world, where not one man
in a hundred, she affirmed, was gifted with
more real substance than itself. And, that
he might hold up his head with the best of
them, she endowed him, on the spot, with an
unreckonable amount of wealth. It consisted
partly of a gold mine in Eldorado, and of ten
thousand shares in a broken bubble, and of
half a million acres of vineyard at the North<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page186">[pg 186]</span><a name="Pg186" id="Pg186" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Pole, and of a castle in the air and a chateau
in Spain, together with all the rents and income
therefrom accruing. She further made
over to him the cargo of a certain ship, laden
with salt of Cadiz, which she herself, by her
necromantic arts, had caused to founder, ten
years before, in the deepest part of mid-ocean.
If the salt were not dissolved, and could be
brought to market, it would fetch a pretty
penny among the fishermen. That he might
not lack ready money, she gave him a copper
farthing, of Birmingham manufacture, being
all the coin she had about her, and likewise
a great deal of brass, which she applied to
his forehead, thus making it yellower than
ever.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc39" id="toc39"></a>
<a name="pdf40" id="pdf40"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">SMILES AND TEARS.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE,</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY RICHARD COE.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, little child,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On this clear bright summer's day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In the garden sporting wild,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Art thou happy? tell me, pray!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"If I had that pretty thing,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  That has flown to yonder tree,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I would laugh, and dance, and sing—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Oh! how happy I should be!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then I caught the butterfly,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Placed it in his hands securely,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Now, methought, his pretty eye</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Never more will look demurely!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, now?" said I,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tears were sparkling in his eye;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Lo! the butterfly was dead—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In his hands its life had sped!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, maiden fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On this long, bright summer's day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Culling flowerets so rare,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Art thou happy? tell me, pray!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"If my Henry were but here,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  To enjoy the scene with me;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He whose love is so sincere,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Oh! how happy I should be!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Soon I heard her lover's feet,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Sounding on the gravel lightly,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To his loving words so sweet,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Tender glances answered brightly!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, now?" I said,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Down she hung her lovely head,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Henry leaves for foreign skies—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tears were in the maiden's eyes!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, mother mild,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On this bright, bright summer's day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Gazing on thy cherub child,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Art thou happy? tell me, pray!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"If my baby-boy were well,"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Thus the mother spake to me,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Gratitude my heart would swell—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Oh! how happy I should be!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then the cordial I supplied,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Soon the babe restored completely;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Cherub-faced and angel-eyed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On his mother smiled he sweetly!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, now?" I said;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Would his father were not dead!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thus she answered me with sighs,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Scalding tear-drops in her eyes!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, aged man,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On this glorious summer's day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With a cheek all pale and wan,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Art thou happy? tell me, pray!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"If I were but safe above,"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Spake the old man unto me,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"To enjoy my Saviour's love,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Oh! how happy I should be!"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then the angel Death came down,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And he welcomed him with gladness,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">On his brow so pale and wan,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Not a trace was seen of sadness:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Art thou happy, now?" I said;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Yes!" he answered with his head;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tears of joy were in his eyes,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Dew-drops from the upper skies!</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc41" id="toc41"></a>
<a name="pdf42" id="pdf42"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">FREEDOM OF THOUGHT AND THE LATEST MIRACLES.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Archbishop Hughes, in a late speech
attempted an exposition of the relations
between the Roman Catholic Church and
Liberty, with special reference to the position
assumed by him and other prelates, that
the Roman Catholics are, not less than Protestants,
upholders of freedom in opinion and
in discussion. The interesting brochure of
his Grace will be better appreciated by our
readers, perhaps, if we mention a few recent
facts illustrative of the subject, as it affects
"authors and books." The French Roman
Catholic Bishop of Lucan has a pastoral
in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Univers</span></span> condemning Walter Scott's
works, without exception. He does the same
by Chateaubriand, and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Arabian Nights</span></span>,
and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Don Quixote</span></span>—the first as Protestant,
the second as insufficiently Catholic, the third
as no Christian, the fourth as of no religion
at all. One unhappy writer of school-books
is condemned because he cites Guizot and
Thierry; another because he blames the massacres
of Saint Bartholomew, and thinks they
were caused by "religious fanaticism." But
first of all, and more than all, the bishop condemns
"that irreligious" Parisian journal, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">La
Presse</span></span>. "The number of its subscribers is
deplorable; but they are becoming and shall
become less; no priest must subscribe to it.
No priest must be seen with it. No priest
must 'ordinarily' read it." This is all very
proper, according to antecedents, but we
should not like it if Bishop Hughes deprived
us of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tribune</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Herald</span></span>, or the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal
of Commerce</span></span>, all of which are as bad, in the
same way, as the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Presse</span></span>. Another example
of the prohibition of books, we add from the
cyclic letter just issued by Cardinal Lambruschini,
condemning Professor Nuytz's works
on ecclesiastical law:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"And further, although we derive great consolation
from the promise of Jesus Christ, that the
gates of hell shall never prevail against the Church,
our soul cannot but feel excruciating pain, upon
considering how daring outrages against divine
and sacred things daily flow from the unbridled
licentiousness, the perverse effrontery and impiety
of the press. Now in this pestilence of corrupt
books which invades us on all sides, the work entitled
</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Institutes of Ecclesiastical Law</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, by John
Nepomue Nuytz, Professor in the Royal University
of Turin, as also the work entitled </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Essays on
Ecclesiastical Law</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, by the same author, claim a
conspicuous place, inasmuch as the doctrines contained
in the said nefarious works are so widely
disseminated from one of the chairs of that university,
that uncatholic theses selected from them
are proposed as fit subjects for discussion to candidates
aspiring to the doctor's degree. For in the
above mentioned works and essays, such errors
are taught under the semblance of asserting the
rights of the priesthood and of the secular power,
that instead of sound doctrines, thoroughly poisoned
cups are offered to youth. For the said author
hath not blushed to reproduce under a new form,
in his impious propositions and comments, all those</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page187">[pg 187]</span><a name="Pg187" id="Pg187" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
doctrines which have been condemned by John II.,
Benedict XIV., Pius VI., and Gregory XVL., as
well as by the decrees of the fourth Council of
Lateran, and those of Florence and Trent. </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">He
openly asserts for example, that the Church has no
right to enforce her authority by might, and that
has no temporal power whatever, whether direct
or indirect.</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One of the latest miracles is described is the
Paris <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Univers</span></span>, as follows—in the most perfect
good faith:—</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"There is much talk at Rome of an extraordinary
cure which has taken a place in the very palace
of the Vatican. The following is the manner
in which this prodigious fact is described,—which
will, without doubt, become the subject of
a judicial inquiry: 'A young girl of about twenty
years of age, whose family is employed in the
domestic side of the palace, had contracted a bad
fever, owing to the loss of her father a little time
before, as well as to the influence of the season,
which has multiplied at Rome diseases of this
kind, and by which a great number of victims
have fallen within the last few months. Notwithstanding
the enlightened efforts of the doctor of
the Pontifical 'family,' and of her parents, the
young invalid was soon at the last extremity. The
vice-curé of the palace (which, as is known, is a
foundation), a member of the Augustin order
(Monseigneur the Sacristan of the same order
is the titular curé), had administered to her the
sacrament of extreme unction, and had recited the
prayer recommending her soul. Her last sigh
was hourly expected. For the sake of enabling
our readers to understand the prodigy about to be
related, it is necessary to state that during the
course of the malady the vice-curé had several
times engaged the pious patient to invoke the aid
of a venerable servant of God, of the Augustin
order, whose beatification is about to be declared,
and he had even mixed in the potions given to such
girl some little fragments of the clothes of the venerable
man. On the other hand, according to the
usage of religious families, they had carried into
the chamber of the dying person the Santo-Bambino
del'Ara Cœli, demanding of these last resources
of the faithful a cure no longer in the reach
of human science to bestow. Let us return to the
bed of the dying girl, whom we find in a profound
sleep, from which she shall soon awaken to relate
with smiles on her lips how she had seen the infant
Jesus, having at his side a venerable servant
of God, clad in the habit of the order of St. Augustin.
She adds that she feels herself cured, but
very weak, and she asks for a cup of broth to give
her strength. The broth is given, to her, although
the request is regarded as coming from one in the
last agitation of dying; but the sick girl, who had
felt the action of grace, and who knew well that
she was cured, rises, throws off all the blisters,
of which not a trace was left on her body, and on
the following day repaired to the church of Ara
Cœli, at more than half a league distant, to thank
the Santo Bambino and the servant of God, who
had restored her to life and health. You may
easily comprehend the sensation that a fact of
this kind must have produced upon a population
so full of faith, especially on the eve of the ceremony
of the 21st, which will put solemnly upon
the altar, in placing him among the blest, the venerable
Father Clavier, of the Society of Jesus,
and at the close of the expiatory </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">triduo</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> which
has been celebrated at Saint Andre della Valle
in reparation of a sacrilegious outrage committed
against the Madonna du Vicolo dell' Abate Luigi.'"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of course the girl never was ill at all.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Miraculous agencies, it appears, have been
applied to by the highest powers at Rome,
with the purpose which actuates the old ladies
who study Zadkiel. A young peasant
girl living at Sezza, near the Neapolitan frontier,
has been for some time in a kind of ecstatic,
or, as non-believers in miracles would
call it, magnetic state, and in that part of the
province of Marittima and Campagna, is already
known under the denomination of St.
Catherine. Her fame seems to have originated
in a miracle which she worked some time ago
on the person of an old woman, who came
to her in great distress because her daughter
had died in childbed, leaving the grandmother
of the infant without pecuniary means
for its support. "St. Catherine" is said to
have directed the old woman to suckle the
baby herself, assuring her that, before she
reached home, she would find herself in a
condition to do so—a direction which the
venerable applicant strictly obeyed, and
found her hopes realized! Other supernatural
answers were subsequently given by the
saint to various applications of the neighboring
peasantry, and stolen fowls and stray
cattle were recovered by her indications.
But the concourse of people at last grew so
great that that the ecclesiastical authorities interfered
in behalf of the sybil, whom they
placed in safety and repose within the walls
of a convent, prohibiting, at the same time,
any one from coming to consult her without
the express permission of the bishop:—</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"From the accounts of dispassionate spectators,"
writes the correspondent of the </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">Daily News</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">,
"I am led to infer that there is really something
extraordinary in the mental or physical organization
of this young girl, as she alternates between
a dormant state, resembling magnetic sleep, and a
strong degree of hysterical or nervous excitability;
but whatever may be the real cause of the
second sight or preternatural knowledge which
she has, according to public rumor, so frequently
displayed, it is certain that many persons of
this city, including ecclesiastics of high rank,
have profited by the opportunity of getting a peep
into the future, and knowing betimes what they
have to prepare for. Cardinals Lambruschini
and Franzoni and the Duke Don Marino Torlonia
are amongst the number of distinguished individuals
who have applied to this modern oracle.
The advocate Zaccaleoni, Monseigneur Appoloni,
and many prelates have followed their example;
indeed, the surprising replies and alarming prognostics
of the Pythoness so far roused the fears
and curiosity of the Pope himself, that he caused
her to be sent for from the convent at Sezza, and
brought to Rome, a few days ago, in the carriage
of a respectable and religious couple, who went
there for that express purpose. An interview
took place between Pio Nono and the prophetess,
immediately after which she was sent back to her
retirement. The result of the interview has not</span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page188">[pg 188]</span><a name="Pg188" id="Pg188" class="tei tei-anchor"></a><span style="font-size: 90%">
transpired, but the girl's revelations were probably
similar to those with which she has already
excited the terrors of her exalted applicants;
namely, predictions of imminent and sanguinary
disturbances, in which, though not of long duration,
many persons will fall victims to popular fury."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Bolognese paper, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Vero Amico</span></span>, which
is thoroughly devoted to the ecclesiastical
cause, occasionally devotes some of its columns
to war in favor of miracles, especially
as wrought by images. The following is its
account of a recent miraculous change of the
weather at the intercession of the Virgin:—</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"The inhabitants of Tossignano not long ago
obtained a new demonstration of love and favor
from the prodigious image of the most Holy Mary,
from that extremely ancient image which, saved
from iconoclastic fury, always engaged the devout
worship of their ancestors; and which their not
degenerate descendants keep as a noble and precious
heirloom of their hereditary religion, finding
in it all comfort and support against public and
private calamities. The late incessant and unseasonable
rains having hindered the gathering in of
autumn fruits, and impeded cultivation for the
coming year, the active pastor, the very revered
arch-priest Agnoli, in order to avert so heavy a
calamity, called the inhabitants of Tossignano together,
and with eloquent and touching words
brought them before the most prodigious image,
so that, by the intercession of the Virgin, God
might restore serene weather. For this purpose,
on the 7th of October, the flock and their beloved
pastor met to depose their humble supplications
at the foot of the altar, sacred to their distinguished
benefactress; at the first prayer, whilst
the pastor was offering the propitiatory wafer, a
ray of sun gladdened the sacred temple, like a
rainbow of peace smiling on the assembled faithful,
and in a few hours all appearance of clouds
vanished from the sky! The Tossignanesi rightly
attributing this to the peculiar favor of their protectress,
and full of gratitude to her, resolved to
sanctify the 12th inst. by solemn acts of thanksgiving."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">These poor absurdities, so suggestive of
pity and contempt, may he compared with
the tricks of Rochester knockers and travelling
mountebanks generally in this country,
and no "authority of the church" can raise
them, in the minds of sensible men, to a
higher respectability.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc43" id="toc43"></a>
<a name="pdf44" id="pdf44"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE SONG QUEEN.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Our excellent friend <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">James T. Fields</span></span>, now
in Europe, sends us from his note book the
following fine apostrophe to Jenny Lind:</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">WRITTEN IN A CONCERT ROOM, LONDON, 1847.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Look on her! there she stands, the world's prime wonder</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The great queen of song! Ye rapt musicians,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Touch your golden wires, for now ye prelude strains</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To mortal ears unwonted. Hark! she sings.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Yon pearly gates their magic waves unloose,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And all the liberal air rains melody</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Around. O night! O time! delay, delay,—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Pause here, entranced! Ye evening winds, come near,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But whisper not,—and you ye flowers, fresh culled</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">From odorous nooks, where silvery rivulets run,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Breath silent incense still.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 8.00em">Hail, matchless queen!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thou, like the high white Alps, canst hear, unspoiled,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The world's artillery (thundering praises) pass.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And keep serene and safe thy spotless fame!</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc45" id="toc45"></a>
<a name="pdf46" id="pdf46"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">LOVE SONG.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY R. S. CHILTON.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">White and silent shines the moonlight,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And the earth, in slumber deep,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Smiles, as of the silver splendor</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Conscious in her sleep!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">How the moonbeams dance and glimmer—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Hunted by the summer breeze—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">On the bosom of the river,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Through the branches of the trees!</div>

<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">May this night of quiet beauty</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Be the symbol and the sign,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of the holy love that wraps us</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  In its light divine!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">So shalt thou still reign forever,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  While the glow of life abides,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As thou now dost, dearest—empress</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Of my heart's deep tides!</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc47" id="toc47"></a>
<a name="pdf48" id="pdf48"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">AUTUMN LINES.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY J. R. THOMPSON.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Gone is the golden October</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Down the swift current of time,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Month by the poets called sober,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Just for the sake of the rhyme.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tints of vermilion and yellow</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Margined the forest and stream;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Poets then told us 'twas mellow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  How inconsistent they seem!</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Now, while the mountain in shadow</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Dappled and hazy appears,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">While the late corn in the meadow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Culprit-like, loses its ears—</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Get some choice spirits together,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Bring out the dogs and the guns,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Follow the birds o'er the heather,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Where the 'cold rivulet' runs.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Look for them under the cover,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Just as the pole-star at sea</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Always is sought by the rover,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Near where the pointers may be.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Yet if your field-tramping brothers</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Should not be fellows of mark,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Leave the young partridge for others,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Only make sure of a lark.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thus shall the charms of the season</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Gently throw round you their spell,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thus enjoy nature in reason,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  If in the country you dwell.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But if condemned as a denizen</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  In a great town to reside,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Take down a volume of Tennyson,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Make him do service as guide;</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Borne upon poesy's pinion,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Rise the heights that he gains,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Range over Fancy's dominion,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Walk hypothetical plains.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Soon shall the wintry December</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Darken above us the sky—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Winds their old custom remember</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  All, in a spree, to get high;</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And, as they wail through the copses,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Dirge-like and solemn to hear,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nature's own grand Thanatopsis</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Sadly shall strike on the ear.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But all impressions so murky</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Instantly banish like care,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Turn to the ham and the turkey</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Christmas shall shortly prepare.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">None than yourself can be richer,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Seated at night by the hearth,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With an old friend and a pitcher</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Lending a share of the mirth.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then to the needy be given</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Aid from your generous boards,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And to a bountiful Heaven</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Thanks for the wealth it affords.</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page189">[pg 189]</span><a name="Pg189" id="Pg189" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<a name="toc49" id="toc49"></a>
<a name="pdf50" id="pdf50"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE PUNISHMENT OF GINA MONTANI.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From Colburn's New Monthly Magazine.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"></p>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">I.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There was much bustle and commotion
in the Castle of Visinara. Servitors ran
hither and thither, the tire-maidens stood in
groups to gossip with each other, messengers
were dispatched in various directions, and
skilful leeches and experienced nurses were
brought in. Then came a long silence. Voices
were hushed, and footsteps muffled; the apartments
of the countess were darkened, and
nought was heard save the issued whisper, or
the stealthy tread of the sick chamber. The
Lady Adelaide was ill. Hours elapsed—hours
of intolerable suspense to the Lord of Visinara;
and then were heard deep, heartfelt
congratulations; but they were spoken in a
whisper, for the lady was still in danger, and
had suffered almost unto death. There was
born an heir to Visinara. And as Giovanni,
Count of Visinara, bent over his child, and
embraced his young wife, he felt repaid for
all he had suffered in voluntarily severing
himself from Gina Montani; and from that
time he forgot her, or something very like it.
And for this he could not be condemned, for
it was in the line of honor and of duty. Yet
it was another proof, if one were wanting,
of the fickle nature of man's love. It has
been well compared to words written on the
sands. Many weeks elapsed ere the Lady
Adelaide was convalescent; and some more
before she ventured to join in the gayeties and
festal meetings of the land. A two days'
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">fête</span></span>, given at the Capella Palace, was the signal
for her reappearance in the world. It
was to be of great magnificence, rumor ran,
and the Lady Adelaide consented to attend it
early on the morning of the second day. She
placed herself in front of the large mirror in
her dressing-chamber while she was prepared
for the visit, the same mirror before which
she had sat on the evening of her wedding-day.
The Signora Lucrezia and Gina were
alone present. The former was arranging her
rich tresses, whilst Gina handed the signora
what things she required—combs, and the
like. Whilst thus engaged, the count entered,
dressed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Giovanni," exclaimed Adelaide, "Lucrezia
thinks that I should wear something in
my hair—a wreath, or my diamond coronet;
but I feel tired already, and wish the dressing
was over. Need I be teased with ornaments?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My sweet wife, wear what you best like.
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">You</span></span> need no superficial adorning."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You hear, Lucrezia: make haste and finish
my hair. Do not put it in curls to-day;
braids are less trouble, and sooner done. You
may put aside the diamond casket, Gina. Oh,
there's my darling!" continued the countess,
hearing the baby pass the door with its nurse.
"Call him in." The count himself advanced,
opened the door, and took his infant. "The
precious, precious child!" exclaimed Adelaide,
bending over the infant, which he placed on
her knees. "Giovanni," she added, looking up
eagerly to her husband's face, "do you think
there ever was so lovely a babe sent on earth?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He smiled at her earnestness—men are
never so rapturously blind in the worship of
their first-born as women. But he stooped
down, and fondly pressed his lips upon her
forehead, while he played with the little hand
of the infant; and she yielded to the temptation
of suffering her face to rest close to his.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But it grows late," resumed the young
mother, "and I suppose we ought to be going.
Take the baby to its nurse, Lucrezia,"
she continued, kissing it fifty times as she resigned
it.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The count had drawn behind the Lady Adelaide,
where stood Gina. As his eyes happened
to fall upon her, he was struck by the
pallid sorrow which sat in her countenance.
Ill-fated Gina! and he had been so absorbed
these last few weeks in his new happiness!
A rush of pity, mingled perhaps with self-reproach,
flew to his heart. What compensation
could he offer her? In that moment he
remembered her last words at the interview
in his wife's embroidery-room, and gave her
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">a look</span></span>. It was not to be mistaken. Love—love,
pure and tender—gleamed from his eyes,
and she answered him with a smile which
told of her thanks, and that he was perfectly
understood. Had any one been looking on,
they could scarcely fail to become aware of
their existing passion, and that there was a
secret understanding between them.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">And one was looking on.</span></span> The Lady Adelaide's
back was towards them, but in the
large glass before her she had distinctly seen
the reflection of all that took place. Her
countenance became white as death, and her
anger was terrible. "You may retire for the
present," she said, in a calm, subdued tone,
to the startled Gina, upon whose mind flashed
somewhat of the truth; "and tell the
Signora Lucrezia not to return until I call for
her."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">To describe the scene that ensued would be
difficult. The shock to the young wife's feelings
had been very great. That her husband
was faithless to her, not only in deed but in
heart, she doubted not. It was in vain he endeavored
to explain all; she listened to him
not. She thought he was uttering falsehoods,
which but increased his treachery. Gina had
once spoken of her fierce jealousy, but what
was hers compared with the Lady Adelaide's?
In the midst of her explosions of passion,
Lucrezia, who had either not received, or
misunderstood, her lady's message by Gina,
entered. The maiden stood aghast, till, admonished
by a haughty wave of the hand from
the count, she hastened from the room. Later
in the day, the Lord of Visinara quitted
the castle, to pay the promised visit. His
wife refused to go. "Mercy! mercy!" she
exclaimed, in anguish, as she sat alone in her
apartments, "to be thus requited by Giovanni—whom
I so loved, my husband! my own husband!<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page190">[pg 190]</span><a name="Pg190" id="Pg190" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Is it possible that a man can be guilty
of treachery so deep? Would that I had died
ere I had known his faithlessness, or ever
seen him! Shame—shame upon it! to introduce
his paramour into my very presence; an
attendant on my person! Holy Virgin, that
I should be so degraded! Sure a wife, young
and beautiful, was never treated as I have
been. Lowered in the eyes of my own servants;
insulted by him who ought to have
guarded me from insult; laughed at—ridiculed
by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">her</span></span>! Oh! terrible! terrible!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">As she spoke the last words, she rose, and
unlocking the bright green cabinet, that of
malachite marble already spoken of, took
from thence a small bag of silver gilt. Touching
the secret spring of this, she drew forth
a letter, opened, and read it:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">'To the Lady Adelaide, Countess of Visinara.</span></span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"'You fancy yourself the beloved of Giovanni.
Count of Visinara; but retire not to your rest this
night, lady, in any such vain imagining. The heart
of the count has long been given to another; and,
you know, by your love for him, that such passion
can never change its object. Had he met you in
earlier life, it might have been otherwise. He
marries you, for your lineage is a high one; and
she, in the world's eye and in that of his own
haughty race, was no fit mate for him."</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ay," she shuddered, "it is explained now.
So, Gina Montani was this beloved one. I am
his by sufferance—she, by love. Holy Mother,
have mercy on my brain! I <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">know</span></span> they love—I
see it all too plainly. And I could believe
his deceitful explanation, and trust him.
I <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">told</span></span> him I believed it on our wedding night.
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">He did not know why he went to her house;
habit, he supposed, or, want of occupation.</span></span>
Oh, shame on his false words! Shame on my
own credulity!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">None of us forget the stanzas in Collins's
Ode to the Passions:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Thy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fixed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Sad proof of thy distressful state:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of differing themes the veering song was mixed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And now it courted love—now, raving, calling on hate."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And calling, indeed, upon hate, as she strode
her chamber in a frenzy near akin to madness,
was the lady Adelaide, when her attendant,
Lucrezia, entered.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My dear lady," she exclaimed, bursting
into tears, as any crocodile might do—"my
dear, dear young lady, I cannot know that
you are thus suffering, and keep away from
your presence. Pardon me for intruding upon
you against orders."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide smoothed her brow, and
the lines of her face resumed their haughtiness,
as she imperiously ordered Lucrezia to
quit the room. The heart most awake to the
miseries of life wears to the world the coldest
surface; and it was not in the Lady Adelaide's
nature to betray aught of her emotions
to any living being, save, perhaps, her
husband.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Nay, my lady, suffer me to remain yet a
a moment: at least, while I disclose what I
know of that viper."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide started; but she suppressed
all excitement, and Lucrezia began
her tale—an exaggerated account of the interview
she had been a witness to between
the Lord of Visinara and Gina Montani. The
countess listened to its conclusion, and a low
moan escaped her.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What think you now, madam, she deserves?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">To die!</span></span>" burst from the pale lips of the
unhappy lady.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"To die," acquiesced Lucrezia, calmly.
"No other punishment would meet her guilt;
and no other, that I am aware of, could be
devised to prevent it for the future."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh! tempt me not," cried the lady, wringing
her hands. "I spoke hastily."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Give but the orders, madam," resumed
Lucrezia, "and they shall be put in practice."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"How can I?" demanded the Lady Adelaide,
once more pacing the room in her anguish;
"how could I ever rest afterwards,
with the guilt of murder upon my soul?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It will be no guilt, lady."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Lucrezia!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have made it my business to inquire
much about this girl—to ascertain her history.
I thought it my duty, and very soon I
should have laid the whole matter before you."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You may destroy her, madam, as you
would destroy that little bird there in its
golden cage, without sin and without compunction."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, Lucrezia, Lucrezia! once more I say
unto thee, tempt me not. Wicked and artful
as she is, she is still one of God's creatures."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Scarcely, my lady," answered Lucrezia,
with a gesture which spoke of deep scorn for
the culprit. "I have cause to believe—good
cause," she repeated, lowering her voice, and
looking round, as if she feared the very walls
might hear the fearful words she was about
to utter, "that she is one of those lost creatures
who are enemies to the Universal Faith,
a descendant of the Saxons, and an apostate;
as too many of that race have become."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">What</span></span> say you?" gasped the Lady Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That we have been harboring a heretic,
madam," continued Lucrezia, her passion rising;
"a spy, it may be, upon our holy ceremonies.
No wonder that evil has fallen upon
this house."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Go to the cell of Father Anselmo," shivered
the Lady Adelaide, her teeth chattering
with horror, "and pray his holiness to step
hither: this fearful doubt shall at once be set
at rest."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">II.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gina Montani, her head aching with suspense
and anxiety, was shut up alone in her
chamber when she received a summons to
the apartments of her mistress. Obeying at
once, she found the confessor, Father Anselmo,
sitting there, by the side of the countess.
The monk cast his eyes steadfastly upon Gina,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page191">[pg 191]</span><a name="Pg191" id="Pg191" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
as if examining her features. "Never, my
daughter, never!" he said, at length, turning
to the countess. "I can take upon myself
to assert that this damsel of thine has never
once appeared before me to be shriven."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Examine her," was the reply of the lady.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Daughter," said the priest, turning to
Gina, "for so I would fain call thee, until assured
that thou canst have no claim to the
title, what faith is it that thou professest."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gina raised her hand to her burning temples.
She saw that all was discovered. But
when she removed it, the perplexity in her
face had cleared away, and her resolution
was taken. "The truth, the truth," she murmured;
"for good, or for ill, I will tell it
now."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Hearest thou not?" inquired the priest,
somewhat more sternly. "Art thou a child
of the True Faith?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I am not a Roman Catholic," she answered,
timidly, "if you call that faith the
true one."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide and the priest crossed
themselves simultaneously, whilst Gina grasped
the arm of the chair against which she
was standing. She was endeavoring to steel
her heart to bravery; but in those days, and
in that country, such a scene was a terrible
ordeal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Dost thou not worship the One True
God," continued the priest, "and acknowledge
his Holiness, our Father at Rome, to be
His sole representative here?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I worship the One True God," replied
Gina, solemnly, joining her hands in a reverent
attitude; "but for the Pope at Rome, I
know him not."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide shrieked with aversion
and terror, and the pale face of the monk became
glowing with the crimson of indignation.
"Knowest thou not," he said, "that
to the Pope it is given to mediate between
earth and heaven?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I know," faltered Gina, shrinking at the
monk's looks and tone, yet still courageous
for the truth, "that there is One Mediator
between God and man."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And he—?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Our Saviour."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Miserable heretic!" scowled the monk,
"hast thou yet to learn that of all the living
souls this world contains, not one can enter
the fold of Heaven without the sanction of
our Holy Father, the Pope?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I shall never learn it," whispered Gina,
"and to me such doctrines savor of blasphemy.
Therefore, I beseech you, dilate not on
them."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Lost, miserable wretch!" cried the priest,
lifting his hands in dismay. "Need I tell
thee, that in the next world there is a place
of torture kept for such as thee—a gulf of
burning flames, never to be extinguished.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"We are told there is such a place," she
answered, struggling with her tears, for the
interview was becoming too painful. "May
the infinite love and mercy of God keep both
you and me from it!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou art hopeless—hopeless!" ejaculated
the monk, sternly. "Yet, another question
ere I send thee forth. Where hast thou imbibed
these deadly doctrines?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My mother wedded with an Italian," answered
Gina, "but she was born on the free
soil of England, and reared in its Reformed
Faith."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A benighted land—an accursed land!"
screamed the priest, vehemently; "the time
will come when it shall be deluged from one
end to the other with its apostates' blood."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is an enlightened land—a free, blessed
land!" retorted Gina, in agitation; "and
God's mercy will rest upon it, and keep it
powerful amongst nations, so long as its sons
remain true to their Reformed Faith."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Insanity has fallen upon them," raved the
monk, endeavoring to drown the bold words
of Gina,—"nothing but insanity. But," he
added, dropping his voice, "let them beware.
Quem Deus vult perdere, prius dementat."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gina understood not the tongue; but the
Lady Adelaide did, and crossed herself.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And this mother of thine," sneered the
monk, turning again to Gina, "where may
she be?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"She is dead," gasped Gina, bursting into
tears.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Good!" assented the monk; "then she
is meeting with her deserts."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"God grant she may be!" aspirated the
maiden, "for she died in the faith of Christ."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And who have been thy worthy instructors
since?" proceeded the priest.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have had but one guide since," answered
Gina.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Disclose the name."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My Bible."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The monk uttered what seemed very like
a scream of passion, and the Lady Adelaide,
as she heard the words, half rose from her
chair.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Be calm, my daughter," interrupted the
monk, waving his hand towards the countess;
"I will guard thee from the harm caused by
contact with this heretical being. Desire
her, I pray thee, to fetch this Book hither,
that I may glance at it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Go," cried the Lady Adelaide, imperiously,
to Gina; "bring this Bible instantly!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gina obeyed, and the sacred volume was
placed in the hands of the monk. The Lady
Adelaide shrank from touching it.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ha!" cried the monk, perceiving it to be
printed in the English tongue, "dost thou
speak this language, then?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is familiar to me as my own," replied
Gina.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I will summon thy attendants for a light,
my daughter," he remarked to the Lady Adelaide.
And when one was brought, the
priest advanced to a part of the room where
the marble floor was uncovered by tapestry,
and tearing the leaves from the Book, he set<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page192">[pg 192]</span><a name="Pg192" id="Pg192" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
light to them, till all, both the Old and New
Testament, were consumed, and the ashes
scattered on the ground. "It is the most
dangerous instructor that can be placed in
the hands of the people," he observed, complacently
watching the black mass smouldering
there. And Gina Montani pressed her
hands upon her chest, which was throbbing
with agitation, but she did not dare to utter
a word of remonstrance.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, father, father!" cried the Lady Adelaide,
sinking at his feet, after Gina had been
conducted to her chamber, and giving vent
involuntarily to sobs of agony, "she has dared
to come between me and my husband—he
has known her long, it seems. If she
should have tainted him with this black heresy?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The monk turned as white as the lady's
dress at the suggestion. It was enough to
make him. That that docile and faithful servant
of the Church, the powerful Chief of Visinara,
who was ever ready, at only half a hint,
to endow it with valuable offerings and presents—entire
robes of point lace for the Virgin
Mary, and flounces and tuckers for all the
female saints in the calendar, not to speak of
his donations in hard cash, and his frequent
offerings of paintings, most of them representing
the popes working miracles, particularly
that very pious one, Alexander VI.—that
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">he</span></span> should have had dissent instilled into
him, perhaps even been made familiar with
the principles of this upstart creed! Had
his reverence swooned outright, it would
have only been what might be expected.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It will not be a crime to remove her, father,"
faltered the Lady Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Crime</span></span>!" cried the ruffled priest; "canst
thou connect the word—in that sense—with
so degraded a being?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"To remove her in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">any way</span></span>," persisted the
lady, in a whisper. "Yet the world might
call it <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">murder</span></span>."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No punishment in this world is adequate
to her sin," answered the monk. "And she
must not be suffered to remain in it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou wilt then grant me absolution beforehand,
holy father," implored the Lady
Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And what canst thou do, my child?" resumed
the monk, smiling upon the countess.
"Thou hast not been used to such work, and
wouldst prove a sad novice at it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Too true," she uttered; "my heart is
trembling now. Indeed, I could think but
of one way—the moat. And though the order
seems easy enough to give, I fear I should,
when the moment came, shrink from issuing
it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And who hast thou in this castle that
will do thy bidding in secret and in silence?
It were better that this deed were not known:
and thou canst not stop tongues, my daughter."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"There are many bound to my interests,
who would, I believe, lay down their lives for
me," deliberated the Lady Adelaide; "yet,
alas! the tongue is an unruly member, and
is apt to give utterance in unguarded moments
to words against the will."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou hast reason, my child. I but put
the question to try thee. I will undertake
this business for thee. That evil one's sin
has been committed against the Church, and
it is fitting that the Church should inflict the
punishment."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thou wilt cause her to be flung into the
moat?" shuddered the Lady Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The moat!" echoed the priest. "Thinkest
thou, my daughter, that the Church is
wont to carry out her dealings by ordinary
means? Signal as this woman's sin has been,
signal must be her expiation."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Can</span></span> it be expiated?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Never, either in this world or the next.
And every moment of delay that we voluntarily
make in hurling her to her doom, must
draw down wrath on our own heads from the
saints on high."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide meekly bowed <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">her</span></span> head,
as if to deprecate any wrath that might just
then be falling.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Thy lady in waiting, Lucrezia, is true, I
have reason to believe," continued the monk.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I believe her to be true," answered the
Lady Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"We may want her co-operation," he concluded,
"for I opine that thou, my daughter,
wilt not deign to aid in this; neither do I
think thou art fitted for it."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc51" id="toc51"></a>
<a name="pdf52" id="pdf52"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">III.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The castle was wrapped in silence, it being
past the hour at which the household retired
to repose. Gina Montani was in her nightdress,
though as yet she had not touched her
hair, which remained in long curls, as she
had worn it in the day. Suspense and agitation
caused her to linger, and she sat at her
dressing-table in a musing attitude, her head
resting on her hand, wondering what would
be the ending to all that the day had brought
forth. She had dismissed her attendant some
time before. With a deep sigh she rose to
continue her preparations for rest, when the
door softly opened, and the Signora Lucrezia
appeared.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You need not prepare yourself for bed,"
she observed, in a low, distinct whisper;
"another sort of bed is preparing for you."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What do you mean?" demanded the
startled girl.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That you are this night to die."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gina shrieked.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I may tell you," interrupted the lady,
"that screams and resistance will be wholly
useless. Your doom is irrevocable, therefore
it may save you trouble to be silent."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You are speaking falsely to me. I have
done nothing to deserve death."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Equivocation will be alike unavailing,"
repeated Lucrezia. "And if you ask what
you have done—you have dared to step with
your ill-placed passion between my lord and
the Lady Adelaide: you have brought discredit<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page193">[pg 193]</span><a name="Pg193" id="Pg193" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
upon the long-upheld religion of this
house."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have disturbed no one's faith," returned
Gina. "I wish to disturb none. It is true
that I love Giovanni, Count di Visinara, but
I loved him long ere he saw the Lady Adelaide."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What!" cried the signora, her cheeks inflamed,
and her brow darkening, "do you
dare to avow your shame to my face?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is no shame," answered Gina, sadly;
there is nothing of guilt in such a love as
mine."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Follow me," repeated Lucrezia. "You
have no time to waste in lamentations."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"By whose orders do I die?" demanded
the indignant girl. "Not by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">his</span></span>; and no one
else has a right to condemn me."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Lucrezia expected this, and was prepared.
Alas, that the Lord of Visinara should that
day have left his signet ring behind him!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Do you know this ring!" demanded Lucrezia,
holding out the jewel.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Too well. It is the Count of Visinara's."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You may then know who has condemned
you."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, Giovanni!" wailed Gina, as she sank
prostrate on the floor in her anguish, "this
from you!" All idea of resistance vanished
with the thought that it was him she so loved
who doomed her to destruction. "I thought
he was still at the Capella Palace," she inquired,
looking up at Lucrezia, a doubt possibly
finding its way to her heart. "When
did he return?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I came not to waste the moments in idle
words," returned Lucrezia, as she prepared
to utter the falsehood; "it is sufficient for
you to know that he <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">has</span></span> returned, and has
given the orders that you seem inclined to
resist."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Implore him to come to me for one moment,
for a last farewell."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I may not ask it. He is with the Lady
Adelaide."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"First, my happiness, then, my life, sacrificed
to appease the Lady Adelaide! Oh,
Giovanni! false, but dear Giovanni—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have no orders to call those who will
use violence," interrupted the signora, "but
I must do so if you delay to follow me."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I am about to dress myself," returned
Gina.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The dress you have on will serve as well
as another—and better, for a night-gown bears
some resemblance to a shroud."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"One moment for prayer," was the next
imploring petition.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Prayer for you!" broke contemptuously
from the signora.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A single moment for prayer," reiterated
the victim. "If I am, indeed, about to meet
my Maker, I stand awfully in need of it; for
I have of late worshipped but one, but it has
not been Him."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Prayer for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">you</span></span>, a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">heretic</span></span>!" repeated Lucrezia;
"you may as well offer it up to blocks
of wood or stone. The creed you profess forfeits
all inheritance for you in heaven."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Yet still Gina repeated it—"A few moments
for prayer, in mercy!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Then pray away where you are going,"
returned Lucrezia, impatiently. "You will
have time enough, and to spare—minutes,
and hours, and days, perhaps."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The signora evidently took a savage pleasure
in urging on the death of Gina Montani.
What could be the reason? Women in general
are not so frightfully cruel. The motive
was, that she herself loved the count. As
Bianca had said, when watching the bridal
cavalcade, could any be brought into daily
contact with one so attractive and not learn
to love him? so it had proved with Lucrezia.
Being the favorite attendant of her mistress,
she was much with her, and consequently
daily and frequently in the company of Giovanni.
He had many a gay word and passing
jest for her, for he was by nature a gallant,
free-spoken man; and this had its effect.
Whilst he never glanced a thought towards
her but as one necessary to wait upon his
wife, he became to her heart dangerously
dear; and excessively jealous had she been
of Gina ever since she had heard the conversation
in the embroidery-room. Pushing the
unfortunate girl on before her, Lucrezia silently
passed from Gina's bed-chamber to the
secret passages, plenty of which might be
found in the castle. She bore a lantern in
her hand, which emitted a dim, uncertain
light. At length they came to a passage, a
little beyond the chapel, far removed from
the habited apartments; and in the middle
of this were two male forms, busily occupied
at work of some description. A lantern, similar
to the one Lucrezia carried, was hanging
high up against the opposite wall; another
stood on the ground. Gina stopped and shivered,
but Lucrezia touched her arm, and she
walked on. They were nearing the men,
who were habited as monks, and their faces
shielded beneath their cowls, when the signora
halted and pressed her hand upon her
brow, as if in thought. Presently she turned
to Gina. A second lie was in her mouth;
but how was the ill-fated young lady to know
it? "<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">He</span></span> sent you a message," she whispered.
"It is his last request to you. Will you receive
it?" The unhappy victim looked up eagerly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He requests, then, by his love for you—by
the remembrance of the happy moments
you once spent together, that you neither resist
nor scream."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Her heart was too full to speak; but she
bowed her head in acquiescence. Lucrezia
moved to go on. "How is my life to be
taken? By the dagger? By blows?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"By neither—by nothing. Not a hair of
your head will be touched."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah! I might have guessed. It is by poison."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It will be taken by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">nothing</span></span>, I tell you.
Why do you not listen to me?"</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page194">[pg 194]</span><a name="Pg194" id="Pg194" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You speak in riddles," said Gina, faintly.
"But I will bear my fate, whatever it may
be."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And in silence? <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">He</span></span> asks it by your mutual
love."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"All, all, for his sake," she answered.
"Tell him, as I have loved, so will I obey
him to the last."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Lucrezia walked on, and Gina followed.
She saw and understood the manner of her
death, but, faithful to the imagined wish of
her lover, she uttered neither remonstrance
nor cry. The clock was upon the stroke of
one, when smothered groans of fear and anguish
told that her punishment had begun;
but no louder sound broke the midnight silence,
or carried the appalling deed to the inhabitants
of the castle. An hour passed before
all was completed: they were long in
doing their deed of vengeance; and, when it
was over, Gina Montani had been removed
from the world forever.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Madame, she is gone!" was the salutation
of Lucrezia, her teeth chattering, and
her face the hue of a corpse, when she entered
the chamber of her mistress.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide had not retired to rest.
She was pacing her apartment in unutterable
misery. The social conditions of life, its forms
and objects, were to her as nothing since her
terrible awaking to reality.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Morning had dawned before the return of
the Lord of Visinara. He was fatigued both
in body and mind, and, throwing himself upon
a couch, slept for some hours. And he
probably would have rested longer, had not
an unusual disturbance and commotion in his
household aroused him. They were telling
a strange tale: one that, for the moment,
drove the life-blood away from his heart. It
was, that the wicked dealings of Gina Montani
with Satan had been brought to light on
the previous day. The holy Father Anselmo
had taxed her with her guilt, and she had
openly confessed all without reserve; and
that the Evil One had appeared in the night,
and had run away with her—a just reward.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In those times, a reputed visit of the devil
in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">propria persona</span></span> would have been likely to
obtain more credence than it could in these:
but it would probably be going too far to say
that the Lord of Visinara participated in the
belief of his horror-stricken household. Certain
it is, he caused minute inquiries to be
made, although at the express disapprobation
of the spiritual directors of the neighboring
monastery, some of whom were attached to
the services of his chapel, and pointed out to
him the grievous sin it was thus to be solicitous
about the fate of an avowed heretic.
But he could learn nothing. The maid who
waited on her testified that she assisted Gina
to undress on the previous night. In proof
of which, the garments she had taken off
were found in the chamber. The remainder
of her clothes were in their places undisturbed;
the only article missing being a nightdress,
which the attendant in question said
she saw her put on; and her bed had not
been slept in. Giovanni spoke to his wife,
but she observed a haughty silence, and it
was useless to question her. He had the moat
dragged, and the neighborhood for miles
round scoured, but no tidings could be obtained.
Yet, strange to say, in passing on
that first morning through the remote corridors,
he fancied he heard her voice pronounce
his name in a tone of imploring agony. He
searched in every nook and corner, but found
nothing, and soon thought no more of it, except
to marvel how his imagination could so
have deceived him.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After a time, peace was restored between
the count and the Lady Adelaide; but all bliss
for her, all mutual confidence, had ceased for
ever.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc53" id="toc53"></a>
<a name="pdf54" id="pdf54"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">IV.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was midnight. In the nursery at the
castle sat the head nurse, and on her lap was
the dying heir of Visinara, now eight or ten
months old. Until nine days previous, he
had been a healthy child, but, from that time,
a wasting fever had attacked him, and now
he was ill unto death. The Lady Adelaide,
her eyes blinded with tears, knelt beside him,
gazing on his colorless face. The count himself
was gently rubbing his little hands to try
and excite some warmth in them.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Do you not think he looks a little, a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">very</span></span>
little better?" demanded the lady, anxiously.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The nurse hesitated. She did not think
so, but she was unwilling to say what she
thought.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"His hands—are they any warmer, Giovanni?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The count shook his head, and the nurse
spoke. "There will be hope, madam, if this
last medicine should take effect."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Lady Adelaide pressed her lips upon
the infant's forehead, and burst into tears.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You will be ill, Adelaide," said her husband.
"This incessant watching is bad for
you. Let me persuade you to take rest."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">She motioned in the negative.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Indeed, madam, but you ought to do
so," interrupted Lucrezia, who was present:
"these many nights you have passed without
sleep; and your health so delicate!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Lie down—lie down, my love," interposed
her husband, "if only for a short time."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Again she refused; but at length they induced
her to comply, her husband promising
to watch over the child, and to let her know
if there should be the slightest change in him.
He passed his arms round his wife to lead her
from the chamber, for she was painfully weak;
but they had scarcely gone ten steps from
the door, when a prolonged, shrill scream, as
of one in unutterable terror, reached their
ears. They rushed back again. The nurse
sat, still supporting the child, but with her
eyes dilating and fixed on one corner of the
room, and her face rigid with horror. It was
she who had screamed.</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page195">[pg 195]</span><a name="Pg195" id="Pg195" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My child! my child!" groaned the Lady
Adelaide.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Nurse, what in the name of the Holy Virgin
is the matter?" exclaimed the count, perceiving
no alteration in the infant. "You
look as if you had seen a spectre!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have seen one," shuddered the nurse.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">have</span></span> you been dreaming of?" he
returned, angrily.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"As true as that we are all assembled here,
my lord," continued the nurse, solemnly, "I
saw the spirit of Gina Montani!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A change came over the Lord of Visinara's
countenance, but he spoke not; whilst the
Lady Adelaide clung to her husband in fear,
and Lucrezia darted into the midst of the
group, and laid hold of the nurse's chair.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What absurdity!" uttered the count, recovering
himself. "How could such an idea
enter your head?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Were it the last word I had to speak, my
lord," continued the woman, "and to my
dying day, I will maintain what I assert. I
saw but now the ghost of Gina Montani. It
was in a night-dress, and stood <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">there</span></span>, far away,
where the lamp casts its shade."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Nonsense!" said the count abstractedly.
"Pray did you see anything?" he continued,
banteringly, to Lucrezia, and to another attendant
who was in the room. They answered
that they had not: but Lucrezia was white,
and shook convulsively. A wild, frantic sob,
burst from the Lady Adelaide. The child
was dead!</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc55" id="toc55"></a>
<a name="pdf56" id="pdf56"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">V.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Many months again slipped by, with little
to distinguish them save the decreasing
strength of the Lady Adelaide. She had been
wasting slowly since the shock given her
heart at discovering her husband's love for
Gina Montani. She loved him passionately,
and she <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">knew</span></span> her love was unrequited; for
affections once bestowed, as his had been, can
never be recalled and given to another. The
illness of the mind had its effect upon the
body; she became worse and worse, and, after
the birth of a second child, it was evident
that she was sinking rapidly. She lay upon
the stately bed in her magnificent chamber,
about which were scattered many articles
consecrated to her girlhood, or to her happy
bridal, and, as such, precious. Seated by the
bedside was her husband; one hand clasping
hers, in the other he held a cambric handkerchief,
with which he occasionally wiped her
languid brow. "Bear with me a little longer,"
my husband—but a short time."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Bear with you, Adelaide!" he repeated;
"would to the Blessed Virgin you might be
spared to me!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is impossible," she sighed, pressing his
hand upon her wasted bosom.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Adelaide"—he hesitated; after awhile—"I
would ask you a question—a question
which, if you can, I entreat that you will
answer."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">She looked at him inquiringly, and he resumed,
in a low voice: "What became of
Gina Montani?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Even amidst the pallid hue of death, a flush
appeared in her cheeks at the words. She
gasped once or twice with agitation before
she could speak. "Bring not up that subject
now; the only one that came between us to
disturb our peace—the one to which I am indebted
for my death. I am lying dying before
you, Giovanni, and you can think but of
her."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My love, why will you so misunderstand
me?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"These thoughts excite me dreadfully,"
she continued. "Let us banish them, if you
would have peace visit me in dying."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"May your death be far away yet," he
sighed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah! I trust so—a little longer—a few
days with you and my dear child!" And the
count clasped his hands together as he silently
echoed her prayer.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Will you reach me my small casket?" she
continued; "I put a few trinkets in it, yesterday,
to leave as tokens of remembrance. I
must show you how I wish them bestowed."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He rose from his seat, and looked about
the room; but he could not find the jewelcase.
"The small one, Giovanni," she said;
"not my diamond casket. I thought it was
in the mosaic cabinet. Or, perhaps, they
may have taken it into my dressing-room."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He went into the adjoining apartment, and
had found the missing casket, when a shriek
of horror from the lips of the Lady Adelaide
smote his ear. He was in an instant at her
bedside, supporting her in his arms; the attendants
also came running in. "My dearest
Adelaide, what is it that excites you thus?"
But his inquiries were in vain. She lay in
his arms, sobbing convulsively, and clinging
to him as if in terror. Broken words came
from her at length: "I looked up—when
you were away—and saw—there, in that
darkened recess—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">her</span></span>. I did—I did, Giovanni!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Whom?" he said becoming very pale.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Her—Gina Montani. She was in white—a
long dress it seemed. Oh! Giovanni,
leave me not again."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I will never leave you, Adelaide. But
this—it must have been a fancy—an illusion
of the imagination. We had just been speaking
of her."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You remember," she sobbed, "the night
our child died—nurse saw the same spectre.
It may—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The lady's voice failed her, and her husband
started, for a rapid change was taking
place in her countenance.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I am dying, Giovanni," she said, clinging
to him, and trembling with nervous terror.
"Oh, support me! A doctor—a priest—Father
Anselmo—where are they? He gave
me absolution, he said. Then why does the
remembrance of the deed come back again
now? They would not have done it without<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page196">[pg 196]</span><a name="Pg196" id="Pg196" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
my sanction. Giovanni, my husband—protect
and love our child—desert him never.
Giovanni, I say, can they indeed forgive—or
does it rest above? If so, oh! why did I
have her killed? Giovanni, who is it—Father
Anselmo?—God?—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">who</span></span> is to forgive me?
It <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">was</span></span> murder! Giovanni, where are you?
My sight is going—Giovanni—" Her voice
died away, and the count bowed his head in
his anguish, whilst the attendants pressed forwards
to look at her countenance. The Lady
Adelaide had passed to another world!</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc57" id="toc57"></a>
<a name="pdf58" id="pdf58"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">VI.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was years after the death of Lady Adelaide,
that workmen were making some alterations
in the Castle of Visinara, preparatory
to the second marriage of its lord, who
was about to espouse the lovely Elena di Capella.
They were taking down the walls of
a secret passage, or corridor, leading out of
the chapel to the neighboring monastery.
Standing, looking on, was the count, still, to
all appearance, youthful, though he was, in
reality, some years past thirty, but his features
were of a cast that do not quickly take
the signs of age. By his side stood a fair boy
of seven years old—his heir—open-hearted,
engaging, with a smiling countenance, on
which might be traced his father's features,
whilst he had inherited his mother's soft blue
eyes and her sunny hair.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What a while you are!" exclaimed the
child, looking on, with impatience, to see the
walls come down. "You should hit harder."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The walls are very thick, Alberto," observed
his father. "All these niches, which
have been blocked up, and in the olden time
contained statues, have to come down also."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"They are taking down a niche now, are
they not, papa?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Not yet. They are removing the wall
which has been built before it. It appears
fresher, too, than the rest; of more recent
date."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It seems extraordinarily fresh, my lord,"
observed one of the workmen. "The materials
are old, but it has certainly been rebuilt
within a few years—within ten, I should
say."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Not it," laughed the count. "These corridors
have not been touched during my lifetime."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"This portion of them has, my lord, you
may rely upon it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">As he spoke, the remainder came down with
a tremendous crash, leaving the niches exposed,
There was no statue there—but the corpse of
the unfortunate Gina Montani, standing upright
in her night-dress, was revealed to their
sight—nearly as fresh as if she had died but
yesterday, having been excluded from the air.
The features, it is true, were scarcely to be
recognized, but the hair—the long brown
curls falling on her neck—was the same as
ever. This was her horrible death then—to
be walled up alive! The count grew sick
and faint as he gazed. Before he had time
to collect his startled thoughts, the child pulled
at and clung to his arm. "Take me away.
What is that dreadful thing? You look white
and cold too, not as you always do. Oh, what
is it? Dear papa, take me from here!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The workmen were affrighted—perhaps
more so, though less shocked, than the count.
But one of them, partially recovering himself,
touched the corpse with an implement
he had been using, and it came down a heap
of dust. The Lord of Visinara turned, and
with steps that tottered under him, bore his
child back to the castle.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc59" id="toc59"></a>
<a name="pdf60" id="pdf60"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">VII.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You may hear in Italy unto this day, various
versions of this tradition. One will tell
you that the Lord of Visinara offered moneys
and treasures, to the half of his possessions,
to the monks, if they would lay the troubled
spirit of Gina Montani, but that, although
they tried hard, they could not do it. According
to another version, the friars would
not try, for that no heretic's soul may be
prayed for in the Roman Church. But, however
the monks may have settled it amongst
themselves, all versions of the history agree
in one particular, that the ghost <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">was not</span></span> laid;
that it never would be, and never could be,
but still wanders on the earth. And you
were wise to profess faith in it too, if you go
amongst the Italians, unless you would be
looked on as an unbeliever, not a degree
better than the poor Protestant maiden
Montani.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Several descendants of Giovanni and Adelaide
of Visinara, are still scattered about
Italy, though greatly reduced in station. And
the accredited belief is, that whenever death
is going to remove one of these, the spirit of
the ill-fated Gina appears and shows itself to
them in the moments of their last and most
terrible agonies.</p>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc61" id="toc61"></a>
<a name="pdf62" id="pdf62"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">VISION OF CHARLES XI.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From Sharpe's Magazine</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We are in the habit of laughing incredulously
at stories of visions and supernatural
apparitions, yet some are so well authenticated,
that if we refuse to believe them, we
should, in consistency, reject all historical
evidence. The fact I am about to relate is
guaranteed by a declaration signed by four
credible witnesses; I will only add, that the
prediction contained in this declaration was
well known, and generally spoken of, long
before the occurrence of the events which
have apparently fulfilled it.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Charles XI., father of the celebrated Charles
XII., was one of the most despotic, but, at
the same time, wisest monarchs, who ever
reigned in Sweden. He curtailed the enormous
privileges of the nobility, abolished the
power of the Senate, made laws on his own
authority; in a word, he changed the constitution
of the country, hitherto an oligarchy,
and forced the States to invest him with absolute
power. He was a man of enlightened<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page197">[pg 197]</span><a name="Pg197" id="Pg197" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
and strong mind, firmly attached to the Lutheran
religion; his disposition was cold, unfeeling,
and phlegmatic, utterly destitute of
imagination. He had just lost his queen,
Ulrica Eleonora, and he appeared to feel her
death more than could have been expected
from a man of his character. He became
even more gloomy and silent than before, and
his incessant application to business proved
his anxiety to banish painful reflections.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Towards the close of an autumn evening,
he was sitting in his dressing-gown and slippers,
before a large fire, in his private apartment.
His chamberlain, Count Brahe, and
his physician, Baumgarten, were with him.
The evening wore away, and his majesty did
not dismiss them as usual; with his head
down and his eyes fixed on the fire, he maintained
a profound silence, weary of his guests,
and fearing, half unconsciously, to remain
alone. The count and his companion tried
various subjects of conversation, but could
interest him in nothing. At length Brahe,
who supposed that sorrow for the queen was
the cause of his depression, said with a deep
sigh, and pointing to her portrait, which hung
in the room,</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What a likeness that is! How truly it
gives the expression, at once so gentle and so
dignified!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Nonsense!" said the king, angrily, "the
portrait is far too flattering; the queen was
decidedly plain."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then, vexed at his unkind words, he rose
and walked up and down the room, to hide
an emotion at which he blushed. After a few
minutes he stopped before the window looking
into the court; the night was black, and
the moon in her first quarter.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The palace where the kings of Sweden now
reside was not completed, and Charles XI.
who commenced it, inhabited the old palace,
situated on the Ritzholm, facing Lake Modu.
It is a large building in the form of a horseshoe:
the king's private apartments were in
one of the extremities; opposite was the great
hall where the States assembled to receive
communications from the crown. The windows
of that hall suddenly appeared illuminated.
The king was startled, but at first
supposed that a servant with a light was passing
through; but then, that hall was never
opened except on state occasions, and the
light was too brilliant to be caused by a single
lamp. It then occurred to him that it
must be a conflagration; but there was no
smoke, and the glass was not broken; it had
rather the appearance of an illumination.
Brahe's attention being called to it, he proposed
sending one of the pages to ascertain
the cause of the light, but the king stopped
him, saying, he would go himself to the hall.
He left the room, followed by the count and
doctor, with lighted torches. Baumgarten
called the man who had charge of the keys,
and ordered him, in the king's name, to open
the doors of the great hall. Great was his
surprise at this unexpected command. He
dressed himself quickly, and came to the king
with his bunch of keys. He opened the first
door of a gallery which served as an antechamber
to the hall. The king entered, and
what was his amazement at finding the walls
hung with black.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What is the meaning of this?" asked he.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The man replied, that he did not know
what to make of it, adding, "When the gallery
was last opened, there was certainly no
hanging over the oak panelling."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The king walked on to the door of the hall.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Go no further, for heaven's sake," exclaimed
the man; "surely there is sorcery
going on inside. At this hour, since the
queen's death, they say she walks up and
down here. May God protect us!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Stop, sire," cried the count and Baumgarten
together, "don't you hear that noise?
Who knows to what dangers you are exposing
yourself! At all events, allow me to
summon the guards."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I will go in," said the king, firmly; "open
the door at once."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The man's hand trembled so that he could
not turn the key.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A fine thing to see an old soldier frightened,"
said the king, shrugging his shoulders;
"come, Count, will you open the door?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Sire," replied Brahe, "let your majesty
command me to march to the mouth of a
Danish or German cannon, and I will obey
unhesitatingly, but I cannot defy hell itself."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well," said the king, in a tone of contempt,
"I can do it myself."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He took the key, opened the massive oak
door, and entered the hall, pronouncing the
words, "With the help of God." His three
attendants, whose curiosity overcame their
fears, or who, perhaps, were ashamed to desert
their sovereign, followed him. The hall
was lighted by an innumerable number of
torches. A black hanging had replaced the
old tapestry. The benches round the hall
were occupied by a multitude, all dressed in
black; their faces were so dazzlingly bright
that the four spectators of this scene were
unable to distinguish one amongst them. On
an elevated throne, from which the king was
accustomed to address the assembly, sat a
bloody corpse, as if wounded in several parts,
and covered with the ensigns of royalty; on
his right stood a child, a crown on his head,
and a sceptre in his hand; at his left an old
man leant on the throne; he was dressed in
the mantle formerly worn by the administrators
of Sweden, before it became a kingdom
under Gustavus Vasa. Before the throne
were seated several grave, austere looking
personages, in long black robes. Between
the throne and the benches of the assembly
was a block covered with black crape; an
axe lay beside it. No one in the vast assembly
appeared conscious of the presence of
Charles and his companions. On their entrance
they heard nothing but a confused<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page198">[pg 198]</span><a name="Pg198" id="Pg198" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
murmur, in which they could distinguish no
words. Then the most venerable of the
judges in the black robes, he who seemed to
be their president, rose, and struck his hand
five times on a folio volume which lay open
before him. Immediately there was a profound
silence, and some young men, richly
dressed, their hands tied behind their backs,
entered the hall by a door opposite to that
which Charles had opened. He who walked
first, and who appeared the most important
of the prisoners, stopped in the middle of the
hall, before the block, which he looked at
with supreme contempt. At the same time
the corpse on the throne trembled convulsively,
and a crimson stream flowed from his
wounds. The young man knelt down, laid
his head on the block, the axe glittered in the
air for a moment, descended on the block, the
head railed over the marble pavement, and
reached the feet of the king, and stained his
slipper with blood. Until this moment surprise
had kept Charles silent, but this horrible
spectacle roused him, and advancing two
or three steps towards the throne, he boldly
addressed the figure on its left in the well-known
formulary, "If thou art of God, speak;
if of the other, leave us in peace."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The phantom answered slowly and solemnly,
"King Charles, this blood will not flow
in thy time, but five reigns after." Here the
voice became less distinct, "Woe, woe, woe
to the blood of Vasa!" The forms of all the
assembly now became less clear, and seemed
but colored shades: soon they entirely disappeared;
the lights were extinguished; still
they heard a melodious noise, which one of
the witnesses compared to the murmuring of
the wind among the trees, another to the
sound a harp string gives in breaking. All
agreed as to the duration of the apparition,
which they said lasted ten minutes. The
hangings, the head, the waves of blood, all had
disappeared with the phantoms, but Charles's
slipper still retained a crimson stain, which
alone would have served to remind him of
the scenes of this night, if indeed they had
not been too well engraven on his memory.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When the king returned to his apartment,
he wrote an account of what he had seen,
and he and his companions signed it. In spite
of all the precautions taken to keep these circumstances
private, they were well known,
even during the lifetime of Charles, and no
one hitherto has thought fit to raise doubts as
to their authenticity.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc63" id="toc63"></a>
<a name="pdf64" id="pdf64"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">DIVINATION, WITCHCRAFT, AND MESMERISM.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From the Dublin University Magazine.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It seems strange that so obvious a case as
that of Barlaam and the monks of Mount
Athos has not been brought into the mesmerical
collection of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pièces justificatives</span></span>. The
first compiler of the authorities on which it
rests is Ughelli. The story is told in modern
language by Mosheim, by Fleury, and by
Gibbon at the years 1341-51. In taking the
version of it by the last (Decline and Fall, c.
63,) we shall run least risk of being imposed
on by over-credulity.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The Fakirs of India and the monks of the
Oriental Church," says the complacent philosopher
of Lausanne, "were alike persuaded
that in total abstraction of the mind and body,
the purer spirit may ascend to the enjoyment
and vision of the Deity. The opinions
and practices of the monasteries of Mount
Athos will be best represented in the words
of an abbot who flourished in the eleventh
century. 'When thou art alone in thy cell,'
says the ascetic teacher, 'shut thy door and
seat thyself in a corner: raise thy mind above
all things vain and transitory; recline thy
beard and chin on thy breast; turn thine
eyes and thy thoughts towards the middle of
thy belly, the region of the naval; and search
the place of the heart, the seat of the soul.
At first all will be dark and comfortless; but
if you persevere day and night you will feel
an ineffable joy; and no sooner has the soul
discovered the place of the heart, than it is
involved in a mystic and etherial light.' This
light, the production of a distempered fancy,
the creature of an empty stomach and an
empty brain, was adored by the Quietists as
the pure and perfect essence of God himself;
and as long as the folly was confined to Mount
Athos, the simple solitaries were not inquisitive
how the divine essence could be a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">material</span></span>
substance, or how an <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">immaterial</span></span> substance
could be perceived by the eyes of the
body. But in the reign of the younger Andronicus
these monasteries were visited by
Barlaam, a Calabrian monk, who was equally
skilled in philosophy and theology. The indiscretion
of an ascetic revealed to the curious
traveller the secrets of mental prayer,
and Barlaam embraced the opportunity of
ridiculing the Quietists who placed the soul
in the naval; of accusing the monks of Mount
Athos of heresy and blasphemy. His attack
compelled the more learned to renounce or
dissemble the simple devotion of their brethren;
and Gregory Palamas introduced a scholastic
distinction between the essence and operation
of God."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Gregory illustrated his argument by a reference
to the celestial light manifested in the
transfiguration of our Lord on Mount Thabor.
On this distinction issue was taken by
the disputatious Calabrian, and the result was
the convocation of a synod at Constantinople,
whose decree "established as an article
of faith the uncreated light of Mount Thabor;
and, after so many insults, the reason of mankind
was slightly wounded by the addition of
a single absurdity."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of the truth of facts so long and openly
discussed, there can be no question. The
monks of Mount Athos did indeed put themselves
into a state which may with safety be
called one of mental lucidity, by fixing their
eyes intently on a point. Mr. Robertson, who<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page199">[pg 199]</span><a name="Pg199" id="Pg199" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
used to induce the mesmeric sleep by causing
his votaries to fix their eyes on a wafer, had
better precedent than he supposed for his
practice; and Miss Martineau, who, in her
artificial trances, saw all objects illuminated
has been unconsciously repeating a monastic
method of worship. The contemptuous indifference
of Gibbon for once arises from defect
of information; and when in a note he
observes that Mosheim "unfolds the causes
with the judgment of a philosopher," while
Fleury "transcribes and translates with the
prejudices of a Catholic priest," himself gives
a luculent example of the errors of philosophy,
and of the often unsuspected approach of prejudice
to truth. Mosheim's observation, notwithstanding
the damaging approval of Gibbon,
is not without its value. "There is no
reason," he says, "for any to be surprised at
this account, or to question its correctness.
For among the precepts and rules of all those
in the East who teach men how to withdraw
the mind from the body, and to unite it with
God, or inculcate what the Latins call a contemplative
and mystic life, whether they are
Christians, or Mohammedans, or Pagans, there
is this precept, viz., <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">that the eyes must be fixed
every day for some hours upon some particular
object</span></span>, and that whoever does this
will be rapt into a kind of ecstasy. See what
Engelbert Kempfer states concerning the
monks and mystics of Japan; and the account
of those of India by Francis Bernier."
Strange that Mosheim, observing the uniformity
both of the process and of its results in
so many different parts of the world, should
not have suspected that there was something
more in this species of lucidity than the merely
casual effects of a distempered imagination.
By fixing the gaze even of the lower animals
on an immovable point, they fall into a condition
equally unnatural, and which, if they
had language to express their visions, would
probably be found equally clairvoyant.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A favorite subject of mediæval art is the
life of the Christian ascetic in the Desert. In
these representations a human skull may generally
be seen placed before the eyes of the
devotee. Such an object would fix the gaze
and induce the ecstasy as well as any other.
The charm of this species of contemplation
must have been intense, since in search of its
exaltations and illuminations the very convents
were deserted; and during the fourth
and fifth centuries the deserts of Idumea, of
Egypt, and of Pontus, swarmed with anchorites,
who seemed to live only for the sake
of escaping from life, and in their fasts and
mortifications rivalled, if they did not for a
time even surpass, the Fakirs of the East. To
such an extent was this religious enthusiasm
carried, that in Egypt the number of the
monks was thought to equal that of the rest
of the male population. Strange consideration,
if it be the fact, that a few passes of a
mesmeric operator should produce the same
effects which these multitudes procured
through toils so painful and sacrifices to themselves
and to society so costly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Egyptian method of inducing clairvoyance
in boys, by causing them to gaze on a
pool of ink in the palm of the hand, has already
been identified with the practice of Dr.
Dee, whose blank spherical mirror is now
said to be in the possession and use of a distinguished
modern mesmeriser. Divination
by the crystal is a well-known mediæval
practice; and from the accounts of it which
Delrio and others have handed down it appears
to have resembled, in some remarkable
particulars, the method now in use among
the soothsayers of Cairo. It does not appear
to make any difference whether the polished
object be black or white, a mirror, a solid
ball, or a transparent globe containing water:
the same extraordinary series of appearances
is alleged to follow an earnest inspection of
it. Before proceeding to Delrio's singular
corroboration of this use of the crystal, it
will be well to state what is known of divination
by the phial and by the mirror. Divination
by the phial is technically known as
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">gasteromancy</span></span>. "In this kind of divination,"
says Peucer, "the response is given by pictures,
not by sounds. They procured glass
vessels of a globular shape, filled with fair
water, and set round them lighted tapers;
and after invoking the demon with a muttered
incantation, and proposing the question,
they brought forward a pure boy-child, or a
pregnant woman, who, gazing intently on the
glass, and searching it with their eyes, called
for, and demanded, a solution of the question
proposed. The devil then answered these
inquiries by certain images, which, by a kind
of refraction, shone from the water on the
polished and mirror-like surface of the phial."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Catoptromancy</span></span>, or divination by the mirror,
is as old as the time of the Roman Emperors.
In one of the passages relating to
this method of inducing what is called clairvoyance,
we have an illustration of the early
acquaintance of mankind with some of the
forms of mesmerism. The passage is found
in Spartian's life of Ditius Julian, the rich Roman
who purchased the Empire when it was
put up to auction by the Prætorian guards.
"Julian was also addicted to the madness of
consulting magicians, through whom he hoped
either to appease the indignation of the people,
or to control the violence of the soldiery.
For they immolated certain victims (human?)
not agreeable to the course of Roman sacrifice;
and they performed certain profane incantations;
and those things, too, which are
done at the mirror, in which boys with their
eyes blindfolded are said, by means of incantations,
to see objects with the top of the
head, Julian had recourse to. And the boy
is said to have seen (in the mirror) both the
approach of Severus and the death of Julian."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The passage may be variously rendered,
according to different readings and punctuations,
either as "boys, who can see with their<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page200">[pg 200]</span><a name="Pg200" id="Pg200" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
eyes blindfolded, by reason of incantations
made over the top of the head;" or, "boys,
who, having their eyes blindfolded, can see
with the top of the head, by reason of incantations;"
or, "boys, who, having their eyes
blindfolded, can see with the top of the head,
it being operated on by way of incantation."
This seeing, or seeming to see, with the top
of the head, is one alleged variety of the
modes of modern clairvoyance. It seems
difficult to imagine that the boy Horner,
whose case is related by Mr. Topham, in a
letter to Dr. Elliotson, dated May 31, 1847,
could have heard any thing of these pagan
practices. Mr. Topham, a barrister and man
of credit, states: "After five or six weeks'
mesmerism, he began spontaneously to exhibit
instances of clairvoyance. The first occasion
was on the 11th of September. It
was in the dusk of the evening, so that the
room where he was mesmerised was nearly
dark. My previous mode of mesmerising
him had been by pointing at his eyes, but on
this occasion I began by making passes over
the top of his head, and continued them after
he was in the sleep. In the course of five or
six minutes after the sleep was induced, he
suddenly exclaimed that he could see into the
room above us (the drawing-room). I said,
'Your eyes are closed; how can you see?'
And he replied, 'I don't see with my eyes;
I see from the top of my head. All the top
of my head seems open.' He then described,
&amp;c. I found every thing as he had described,
&amp;c." Mr. Topham, it need scarcely be
added, does not appear to have been at all
aware of the passage in Spartian, which, indeed,
has not been cited or referred to in any
published work for nearly two hundred years
back.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A like use of the suspended ring, indicating
the early acquaintance of practitioners in
these arts with one of the alleged evidences
of the so-called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">odylic</span></span> force, is thus described
by Peucer among various modes of hydromancy:
"A bowl was filled with water, and
a ring suspended from the finger was librated
in the water; and so, according as the question
was propounded, a declaration or confirmation
of its truth, or otherwise, was obtained.
If what was proposed was true, the
ring, of its own accord, without any impulse,
struck the sides of the goblet a certain number
of times. They say that Numa Pompilius
used to practise this method, and that he
evoked the gods, and consulted them in water,
in this way."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Crystallomancy</span></span> is the art of divining by
figures, which appear on the surface of a crystal
ball, in like manner as on the phial filled
with water. Concerning this practice, Delrio
has the following remarkable passage, citing
his contemporary, Spengler: "A man
well versed in the Greek and Latin fathers,
and happy, if he had not presumed, with unclean
hands, to dabble in the mysteries of our
faith (Spenger), has published in Germany a
learned commentary on the nature of demons,
which he has prefixed to Plutarch's Essay,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">De Defectu Oraculorum</span></span>. From this (says
Delrio) I extract, in his own words, the following
narrative. There are some (he says)
who, being consulted on matters unknown,
distinctly see every thing that is inquired after
in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">crystals</span></span>; and a little further on proceeds
to state, that he once had an acquaintance,
a man of one of the best families of
Nuremberg, and that this acquaintance of his
came to him on one occasion, bringing with
him a crystal gem, of a round form, wrapped
up in a piece of silk, which he told him he
had received from a stranger, who encountering
him several years before in the market-place,
had asked his hospitality, and
whom he had brought home with him and
lodged for the space of three days; and that
when the stranger was departing, he had left
him the crystal as a present, in token of his
obligation, and had taught him the use of it;
thus, that if there was any thing he particularly
wished to be informed of, he should
take out this crystal and desire a pure male
child to look into it and say what he should
see there; and that it would come to pass that
whatever he desired to be informed of, would
be indicated by appearances seen by the boy.
And he affirmed that he never was deceived
in any instance, and that he learned matters
of a wonderful kind from the representations
of those boys, although no one else, by the
closest inspection, could see any thing except
the clear and shining gem. At a certain time,
however, when his wife was pregnant of a
male child, appearances were visible to her
also in the crystal. First of all, there used
to appear the form of a man clad in the ordinary
habit of the times, and then would open
the representation of whatever was inquired
after; and when all was explained, the same
figure of the man would depart and disappear;
but in his departure would often appear to
perambulate the town and enter the churches.
But the report of these appearances having
spread in all directions, they began to be
threatened by the populace. It also appeared,
that certain men of learning had read in
the crystal some statements respecting doubts
entertained by them in their studies; and
moved by these and other reasons, Spengler
stated that the owner of the crystal came to
him, representing that he thought the time
was come when he ought to cease making such
a use of it; for that he was now persuaded
he had sinned in no light degree in doing so,
and had for a long time suffered grievous
pangs of a disturbed conscience on that account,
and had come to the determination of
having nothing further to do with experiments
of that kind, and had accordingly
brought the crystal to him to do with it
whatever he pleased. Then Spengler, highly
approving his resolution, states that he took
the crystal, and having pounded it into minute
fragments, threw them, together with<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page201">[pg 201]</span><a name="Pg201" id="Pg201" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the silk wrapper, into a draw-well." So far
Delrio.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Another variety of this process is found in
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Onuchomanteia</span></span>, or nail-divinition, also
spoken of by Delrio. "In this species," says
he, "male children, before they have lost
their purity, smear their nails with oil and
lamp-black, and then, holding up the nail
against the sun, repeating some charm, see in
it what they desire. This mischief," he goes
on to say, "has gone even farther in our own
time. I myself knew one Quevedo, a veteran
Spanish soldier, but more distinguished in
war and arms than in piety, who, being in
Brussels at the time when the Duke of Medina
Cæli set sail from Gallicia for Belgium,
clearly showed in more than one of his nails
the fleet leaving the port of Corunna, and
soon after dreadfully tossed by a tempest.
Thus this man, who could also cure the
wounds of others by his words alone, rendered
his own spiritual state incurable by any
one."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The like use of the crystal ball and spherical
phial, containing water, suggests a version
of the epigrams of Claudian—"De crystallo
in quo aqua inclusa"—which has not
been afforded by any of the commentators.
Globules of water are sometimes found inclosed
in crystals, as well as in amber. On
one of those singular gems Claudian has composed
a series of epigrams, which ascribe properties
to the stone, and make allusion to uses
of it hardly reconcileable with the idea of its
being a merely puerile curiosity. The earlier
epigrams of the series are neat and playful,
but insignificant:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"The icy gem its aqueous birth attests,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Part turned to stone, while part in fluid rests;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Winter's numbed hand achieved the cunning feat,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> The perfecter for being incomplete.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Nymphs who your sister nymphs in glassy thrall</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Hold here imprisoned in the crystal ball;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Waters that were and are, declare the cause</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> That your bright forms at once congeals and thaws.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Scorn not the crystal ball, a worth it owns,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Greater than graven Erythrean stones;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Rude though it seems, a formless mass of ice,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> 'Tis justly counted 'mongst our gems of price."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And so on through several others, until he
comes to that one which seems to indicate
something beyond a merely figurative use of
the word "nymphs;" though, after all, it is
possible that the word was originally written
with an <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">l</span></span>, instead of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">n</span></span>, which would
make all the difference between "nymphs"
and "waters":—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"While the soft boy the slippery crystal turns,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> To touch the waters in their icy urns,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Safe in its depths translucent he beholds</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> The nymphs, unconscious of the winter colds:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> And the dry ball exploring with his lip,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Seems, while he fails, the illusive lymph to sip."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Latin is subjoined:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Dum crystalla puer contingere lubrica gaudet</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">   Et gelidum tenero pollice versat onus,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Videt perspicuo deprensas in marmore nymphas,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">   Dura quibus solis parcere novit hyems:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Et siccum religens labiis sitientibus orbem,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">   Irrita quæsitis oscula figit aquis."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Not the least remarkable of the qualities
here ascribed to the crystal ball is its energy
in imparting the sensation of cold. Dom
Chifflet, who, in 1665, published his learned
treatise at Antwerp on the objects then recently
discovered in the supposed tomb of
King Childeric, at Tournay, says of the crystal
ball which was found amongst them,
"You would say it was petrified ice; so cold
it was, that my palm and fingers, after handling
it, were quite torpid." And cites Anslem
Boetius, in his book on stones and gems,
as saying, "the crystal is of so cold and dry
a nature, that placed beneath the tongue of
a feverish person, it allays the thirst; and
held in the hands even of those violently fevered,
it refreshes and cools them, especially
if it be of considerable size, and of a spherical
figure;" and another writer on the same
subject, Andreas Cisalpinus, who states of
the marble called ophite, that "they make of
it little globes, for the handling of such as are
in burning fever, the coldness of the stone
expelling the disease." So far Dom Chifflet.
It seems almost as if we were reading Reichenbach.
"He (Reichenbach) found that
crystals are capable of producing all the phenomena
resulting from the action of a magnet
on cataleptic patients. Thus, for instance,
a large piece of rock crystal, placed in the
hand of a nervous patient, affects the fingers
so as to make them grasp the crystal involuntarily,
and shut the fist. Reichenbach found
that more than half of all the persons he tried
were sensible of its action." Chifflet probably
was a man of a nervous temperament.
Those who desire to see the crystal ball in
question, may inspect it, where it is still preserved,
with other objects found in the tomb,
at the Gallerie de Medailles, in Paris. Two
similar balls may be seen here in the collection
of the Royal Irish Academy.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The use of water in communicating an ecstacy
similar to the mesmeric lucidity, is
largely dwelt on by the mystical writers
known as the Neo-Platonists. Psellus describes
a mode of divinition among the Assyrians
by a basin, which smacks strongly of the
mesmeric practice. "The water, which is
poured into the basin, seems, as to its substance,
to differ in nothing from other water;
but it possesses a certain virtue, infused into
it by incantations, whereby it is rendered
more apt for the reception of the demon."
The effect of the waters of some sacred places
on those accustomed to their influence, was
also such as is claimed for the mesmerized
waters of our present practitioners. Jamblichus
gives this account of the Colophonian
oracle:—"There was a subterranean place at
Colophon, near Ephesus, in which was a fountain.
The priest on stated nights sacrificed,
then drank the water, and afterwards prophesied,
being rendered invisible to the spectators.
It might seem," he says, "to some
that the Divine Spirit passed into the priest
through the water. But this is not so; for
the divine influence is not transmitted thus
according to the laws of distance and division,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page202">[pg 202]</span><a name="Pg202" id="Pg202" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
through these things which participate
in it, but comprehends them from without,
and inwardly illuminates and fills them with
lucidity, and fills the water also with a certain
virtue conducive to the prophetic faculty,
that is, a clarifying virtue; so that when
the priest drinks, it purifies the luminous spirit
which is implanted in him, and accommodates
it to God, and by that purifying and
accommodating process, enables him to apprehend
the deity. But there is another kind
of presence of the god, besides the virtue infused
into the wafer, which illumines all
around, above, and within us, and which no
man wants, if he can only attain to the necessary
state of congruity. And so of a sudden
it falls on the prophet, and makes use of
him as an instrument; and he in the meantime
has no command of himself, and knows
not what he says, nor where he is, and with
difficulty comes to himself again, after the
response given. Moreover, before drinking
the water, he abstains for a day and night
from food, and partakes of certain mysteries
inaccessible to the vulgar; from which it is
to be collected that there are two methods
by which man may be prepared for the reception
of the divine influence: one by the
drinking of purgatorial water, endowed by
the Deity with a clarifying virtue; the other,
by sobriety, solitude, the separation of the
mind from the body, and the intent contemplation
of the Deity."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One might here suppose he read of the rites
of St. Patrick's Purgatory. The water of the
lake there is usually called wine, and it may
be that on minds and bodies "which have attained
to the needful congruity," it has operated
as wonderful effects as the Colophonian
fount itself. The proceedings of the priestess
at Brancidæ, who also, from amongst other
sources, derived the afflatus, or <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Waren</span></span>, from
a fountain, are to the same purpose. "The
prophetic priestess at Brancidæ either sits on
an axis [exposing herself to the influence, as
the Pythoness on her Tripod], or holds a
wand in her hand, given by some god, or
dips the hem of her garment, in water, or inhales
a certain vapor of water, and by these
methods is filled with the divine illumination,
receives the god, and prophesies. But, that
the prophetic faculty comes from no corporeal
or animal source, and from no local or
material instrumentality, but solely and extrinsically
from the presence of the incoming
deity, appears from this, that the priestess,
before she gives her oracle, performs many
ceremonious rites, observes strict purity,
bathes, abstains for three days from food,
dwells apart, and so, by little and little, begins
to be illuminated and enraptured."
What the exact meaning of sitting on an axis
may be, it is difficult to divine; but those
who allege that a patient may be thrown into
the mesmeric trance by holding a magnetized
branch—and those also who have read
of all the phenomena of exorcism being as
fully elicited by a satchel of feathers as by a
bag of reliques—will readily apply the wand
"presented by some deity," and placed in the
hand of the priestess at the moment when
she should receive the final cataleptic impulse.
If there be truth in the alleged modern cases
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">clairvoyance</span></span>, we need not be surprised at
the singular coincidences which have sustained
the credit of Colophon and Delphi.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Not to dwell on other methods of inducing
the afflatus, such as by characters and amulets,
by music, by dancing, and by movements
of the body, I shall now proceed with the
effects alleged to have been produced on the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">afflati</span></span>. Jamlichus must still be our principal
authority. Lucidity and prevision have already
been sufficiently indicated, and have
doubtless been readily recognized: the other
symptoms will be found not less remarkable
and equally familiar:—"Man has a double
life—one annexed to the body, the other separate
from every thing bodily.... In sleep
we have the capacity of being wholly loosed
from the chains that confine our spirit, and
can make use of the life which is not dependent
on generation. When the soul is thus
separate from the body in sleep, then that
(latter) kind of life which usually remains separable
and separate by itself, immediately
awakes within us, and acts according to its
proper nature,... and in that state has a
presaging knowledge of the future." Then,
omitting a distinction between sleeping and
waking inspiration, and coming to the latter,
in which, also, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">offlati</span></span> have a presaging
power, he proceeds:—"Yet those (latter) are
so far awake that they can use their senses,
yet are not capable of reasoning,... for they
neither (properly speaking) sleep when they
seem to do so, nor awake when they seem
awake; for they do not of themselves foresee,
nor are they moved by any human instrumentality;
neither know they their own
condition; nor do they exert any prerogative
or motion of their own; but all this is done
under the power and by the energy of the
deity. For that they who are so affected do
not live an ordinary animal life is plain, because
many of them, on contact with fire, are
not burnt, the divine inward afflatus repelling
the heat; or, if they be burnt, they do not
feel it; neither do they feel prickings, or
scratchings, or other tortures. Further, that
their actions are not (merely) human, is apparent
from this, that they make their way
through pathless tracks, and pass harmless
through the fire, and pass over rivers in a
wonderful manner, which the priestess herself
also does in the Cataballa. By this it
is plain that the life they live is not human,
nor animal, nor dependent on the use of
senses, but divine, as if the soul were taking
its rest, and the deity were there instead of
the soul. Various sorts there are of those so
divinely inspired, as well by reason of the
varying divinity of the inspiring gods as of
the modes of inspiration. These modes are<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page203">[pg 203]</span><a name="Pg203" id="Pg203" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
of this sort—either the deity occupies us, or
we join ourselves to the deity, &amp;c.... According
to these diversities, there are different
signs, effects, and works of the inspired;
thus, some will be moved in their whole bodies,
others in particular members; others,
again, will be motionless. Also they will
perform dances and chants, some well, some
ill. The bodies, again, of some will seem to
dilate in height, of others in compass; and
others, again, will seem to walk in air."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Taking these various manifestations in order,
and beginning with the alleged power
of resisting the action of fire, the reader will
not need to be reminded of many seemingly
well-authenticated cases of escape from the
fire-ordeal. It has been usual to ascribe the
preservation of those who have walked bare-footed
over heated ploughshares to the use of
astringent lotions: and where opportunity
existed for preparation of that kind, their escape
may perhaps be so explained. But in
most instances the accused was in the custody
of the accusers, and not likely to have access
to such phylacteries. The exemption from
the effects of fire was not confined to those
cases of exaltation attendant on the enthusiasm
of conscious virtue. Bosroger (La Piéte
Affligée, Rouen, 1752) states of one of the
possessed sisters of St. Elizabeth at Louviers,
in 1642: "One morning Sister Saint-Esprit
was rapt as in an ecstasy. The bishop commanded
the devil to leave her. Immediately
she experienced dreadful contortions, and an
access of rage, and, on a sudden, says the exorcist,
her demon left her like a flash of lightning,
and threw the young woman into the
fire, which was a considerable one, casting
her with her face and one hand direct between
the two andirons; and when they
ran to drag her away, they found that neither
her face nor her hand were in anywise
burnt."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It would be idle to multiply instances of
this sort from the monkish writers. The
preservation of the three youths in the Chaldæan
furnace was one of the miracles most
adapted to the servile yet audacious imitations
of the Thaumaturgists. It is only when
their statements correspond in unsuspected
particulars with the phenomena of experience—as,
for example, in the case of Barlaam
and the monks of Mount Athos—that they
can be adduced without offending the judgment
of rational inquirers. But the action
of burning is an operation of mechanical and
chemical forces; and how any amount of
spiritual or electrical effusion could prevent
the expansion of the fluids in the tissues and
the disruption of the skin, seems hard to
imagine. Something more must, one should
think, have been needed; and if the mesmeric
and Pagan oracular ecstasies be identical, this
testimony of Jamblichus would lead us to
suppose that that something was supplied by
the mind. However this may be, we shall
be better able to judge after the investigation
of some other of the alleged concomitants of
Pagan inspiration.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The insensibility to prickings and pinchings
is perhaps the commonest test of the cataleptic
condition; and, as will doubtless suggest
itself to every reader, was, until modern
times, a popular test of witchcraft. That the
unhappy wretches who were put to death in
such numbers during the middle ages for this
offence were actually in an unnatural and detestable
state of mind and body, cannot be
doubted. They really were insensible to punctures;
for if they had winced when pricked
with pins and needles by their triers, it would
have been deemed a proof of their innocence.
A person feigning the mesmeric sleep, and
whose interest it is to feign, may endure such
prickings with seeming insensibility; but it
was not the interest of the ancient witch to
affect an insensibility, which would be taken
as one of the surest proofs of guilt. A perverse
desire to be believed guilty is the only
motive that can be suggested as likely to lead
to such conduct; and those who have studied
human nature most profoundly will be disposed
to give great credit to that suggestion. The
same nature which in the fourth century ran
into the epidemic frenzy of anchoritism, and
impelled the Circumcellionist multitudes to
extort the boon of martyrdom from reluctant
tribunals, may be admitted capable even of
the madness of a voluntary aspiration to the
stake and pyre of the witch. Certain it is
that many of the convicts boasted of their
interviews with the Devil, and seemed to be,
if they were not, possessed with the conviction
of having actually partaken of the orgies
imputed to them. Had they really been there
in imagination? Was it that the popular mind
had realized to itself an epidemic idea, and
that the effect of the contagion was to put
its victims <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">en rapport</span></span> with the distempered
picture present to the minds of the multitude?
In a moral epidemic the crowd, possessed
with one idea, are the operators: it is
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Panic</span></span> possession of the ancients, which
was not confined to general terrors, but applied
to general delusions of every kind. The
multitude itself radiates its own madness;
witness the Crusaders, the Flagellants, the
Dancing Fanatics of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries; perhaps even we might add
the Mathewites of our own day.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The next symptom of possession was the
power of passing through trackless places,
the disposition to run to wilds and mountains,
like that rage of the votary of Bacchus:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Quo me Bacche, rapis tui</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Plenum? Quæ in nemora aut quos agor in specus</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Velox mente nova?"</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Bacchic ecstasy was not merely drunkenness,
but an epidemic madness induced by
long-continued dancing and gesticulating to
the sound of cymbals and other noisy instruments,
in all respects identical with the methods
of inducing the Hindoo <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Waren</span></span>. The
dancing mania also of the fifteenth century,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page204">[pg 204]</span><a name="Pg204" id="Pg204" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
described by Hecker in his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Epidemics of the
Middle Ages</span></span>, was induced in the same manner,
and its effects were the same,—possession,
illumination, and insensibility to external influences.
That the Bacchic and Corybantic
frenzies were, in all respects, identical with
the middle age dancing manias, and with the
possession of those who still exhibit the influences
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Waren</span></span> in Hindoostan, can hardly be
doubted. "As for the Bacchanalian motions
and friskings of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Corybantes</span></span>," says Plutarch
in his Essay on Love, "there is a way to
allay these extravagant transports, by changing
the measure from the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Trochaic</span></span> to the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Spondaic</span></span>, and the tone from the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Phrygian</span></span> to
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Doric</span></span>:" just as with the dancers of St.
Vitus, and those bit by the Tarantula. Hecker
states, "The swarms of St. John's dancers
were accompanied by minstrels playing those
noisy instruments which roused their morbid
feelings; moreover, by means of intoxicating
music, a kind of demoniacal festival for the
rude multitude was established, which had
the effect of spreading this unhappy malady
wider and wider. Soft harmony was, however,
employed to calm the excitement of
those affected, and it is mentioned as a character
of the tunes played with this view to
the St. Vitus's dancers, that they contained
transitions from a quick to a slow measure,
and passed gradually from a high to a low
key." After the termination of the frenzy
the conduct of the dancers, as well indeed as
of all the victims of this species of possession,
whether <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Taratati</span></span>, convulsionnaires, or revivalists,
tallied precisely with that of the Bacchic
women. Plutarch, in his thirteenth example
of the Virtues of Woman, has this
graphic picture of the condition of a band of
Bacchante after one of their orgies. "When
the tyrants of Phocea had taken Delphos, and
the Thebans undertook that war against them
which was called the Holy War, certain women
devoted to Bacchus (which they called
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Thyades</span></span>) fell frantic, and went a gadding by
night, and, mistaking their way, came to Amphissa,
and being very much tired, and not
as yet in their right wits, they flung themselves
down in the market-place and fell
asleep, as they lay scattered up and down here
and there. But the wives of the Amphisseans,
fearing because the city was engaged
to aid in the Phocean war, and abundance of
the tyrants' soldiers were present in the city,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Thyades</span></span> should have any indignity put
upon them, ran forth all of them into the
market-place, and stood silently round about
them; neither would offer them any disturbance
while they slept, but when they
were awake they attended their service particularly,
and brought them refreshments;
and, in fine, by persuasion, obtained leave of
their husbands that they might accompany
them in safety to their own borders."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the same way, throughout the fourteenth
and fifteenth centuries, might groups
of both sexes be seen lying, exhausted from
their agitations, in the streets of Aix-la-chapelle,
Cologne, Strasburg, Naples, and elsewhere;
and even in our own century sights
not dissimilar have been witnessed at revival
assemblages in Wales and Scotland, and at
camp-meetings in North America. The
rending of Pentheus on Mount Citheron by
his own mother and sisters, who, while under
the influence of the Bacchic <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">afflatus</span></span>, imagined
they saw in his form the appearance
of a wild beast, might be adduced as an example
at once of the furious character of the
frenzy, and of the liability of the afflated to
optical illusions. Has what we read of fairy-gifts
and glamour any foundation in this alleged
power of the biologist to make his patient
imagine different forms for the same
object? But we are still among the mountain
tops, and must descend to the remaining
symptoms enumerated by Jamblichus.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"They pass over rivers in a wonderful
manner, which the priestess herself also does
in the Cataballa." We here again encounter
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">indicia</span></span>, of that possession which went by
the name of witchcraft in the middle ages.
A witch, really possessed, could not sink in
the water, any more than she could feel the
insertion of a needle. The vulgar belief is,
that the suspected witch was cast into a
pond, where, if she floated, she was burned,
and if she sank she was drowned. The latter
alternative was not so; if she betrayed no
preternatural buoyancy, the trial was so far
in her favor, and she was taken up.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nor was water the only test, in some
parts of Germany the triers, less philosophically,
employed scales; and had fixed weights
(from 14 to 15 lbs.), which, if the accused
did not counterpoise, they concluded them to
be possessed. But it will be asked, how can
there be degrees of philosophy in practices
equally insane, and which have been condemned
by the common consent of enlightened
nations for near three hundred years?
Insanity there certainly was, and on a prodigious
scale, in these ages; but the judges
and executioners were not so insane as the
multitudes who either believed themselves
possessed by others, or believed that they
themselves exercised the power of possessing.
To us, living in an age of comparative
rest from spiritual excitement, it seems
almost incredible that thousands of persons,
in all ranks and conditions of life, should
simultaneously become possessed with the
belief that they were in direct communication
with the devil: should cease to attend
to their duties and callings, passing their time
in hysterical trances and cataleptic fits, during
which they seemed to themselves to be borne
through the air to witch orgies and assemblies
for devil-worship, in deserts and mountains;
and that while one portion of society gave
themselves up to these hallucinations, another
class should, with an equal abandonment of
every duty of life, have betaken themselves
to mope and pine, going into convulsions, and<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page205">[pg 205]</span><a name="Pg205" id="Pg205" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
wasting to skeletons, under the idea of having
been bewitched; yet nothing is more certain
than that it was such a frenzy as this the
heads of the Church and the temporal Government
had to contend against in the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries. There were
no mad-houses; if there had been, even to
the extent we now possess them, they would
not have sufficed to hold a tenth part of the
numbers whose contact and example would
have been fatal to the peace, perhaps even to
the existence, of society. If such frenzies
were, unhappily, to burst out among mankind
at present, civilized nations might transport
their <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">energumeni</span></span> to distant possessions; but
the middle-age magistrates had no facilities
of that kind: they should deal with the terrible
plague by the only means at their disposal;
and these were, either to let the madness
wear itself out, or to repress it by the rope
and faggot. If they had adopted the former
course, the epidemic would probably have
passed through the usual stages of popular
distempers; would have had its access, its
crisis, and decline; and when the scourge
had passed, the public would have awakened
to a full sense of the madness of which they
had been the victims; but in that process
there was the danger of society going to
pieces—of the visionary frenzy of the possessed
being taken up by fanatics as the
foundation of a new and abominable religion,
and of the hostility of the ignorant and uneducated
class, among whom chiefly the possession
prevailed, being directed against the
restraints of government and the principle
of property. Having adopted the other
course, they pushed it to cruel and inexcusable
lengths; punished many innocent persons,
and suffered many of the really possessed to
go free. For they whose madness was most
to be apprehended, as most contagious, were
not the wretches who fancied they possessed
the power of bewitching others; but the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">convulsionnaires</span></span>, who deemed themselves bewitched,
and were their accusers. Certainly
if the same epidemic should ever again break
out among a European population, or even
among a British population, the arm of the
magistrate would be again required to suppress
it, and we would be better able to
judge of the conduct of those whom it has
been the fashion of modern historians to
represent as altogether ignorant and brutal
executioners. So long as possession is only
the result of manual passes, or of fixing the
gaze on indifferent objects; so long as the
effects are regarded as physical or psychological
phenomena, due to a physical cause, and
the pretensions of the practitioner are not
rested on any peculiar religious sanction,
there is no danger of mesmerism degenerating
into a dangerous epidemic; but we
might have seen a very different state of
affairs if the magnetizers and biologists had
referred their powers to any species of supernatural
agency; and possibly would have
found ourselves long since under the necessity
of reviving those penal proceedings which we
have so generally been taught to abhor, as
among the most revolting remnants of mediæval
superstition.<a id="noteref_5" name="noteref_5" href="#note_5"><span class="tei tei-noteref"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">5</span></span></a> Even as it is, these<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page206">[pg 206]</span><a name="Pg206" id="Pg206" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
powers of the biologist, if in truth they exist,
are capable of fearful abuse. Let us take,
for example, one of the oldest methods of
exercising influence, for good or evil, on an
absent person:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"As fire this figure hardens, made of clay,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> And this of wax with fire consumes away;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Such let the soul of cruel Daphnis be,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Hard to the rest of women, soft to me."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If the waxen or clay image be but a concentrator
of the good or evil will of the operator
towards the distant object, and the
witchcraft of the love-sick magician in Virgil,
or of the evil-disposed wizard of the
middle ages, be in truth no more than an exertion
of biological power, it behoves society
to take care how individuals should be suffered
to acquire mesmerical relations with
others, over whom they may exercise malignant
as well as healing influences. If the
pretensions of the biologists be established,
biology must soon be put under medical supervision.
But to return to the phenomena
of possession.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The propriety of trying alleged witches by
water, has been impugned and defended with
abundance of scholastic learning; and, singular
to say, its opponents have been chiefly
found among the Roman Catholic writers,
and its advocates among the Reformers.
Delrio, by far the most learned of all the
writers on demonology, vigorously assails
Rickius, the only notable Roman Catholic
advocate of the practice. The arguments on
both sides being based entirely on scholastic
definitions and distinctions respecting the
nature of demons, and the baptismal and
other spiritual virtues of water, are of little
relevance in the present method of discussing
physical phenomena. Both parties assume
that the persons of witches exhibit a preternatural
levity—Delrio admitting that something
less than fourteen or fifteen pounds
was the actual weight which popular belief
throughout Germany ascribed to persons in
that possessed state, no matter how large or
fat they might seem to the eye; and Rickius
gives an example of a woman, executed by
drowning in 1594, whom the executioner
could hardly keep under with repeated
thrusts of his pole, so high did she bound upwards
from the surface, and "so boil up," as
it were, out of the depths of the water. The
levity of possessed persons in water might be
accounted for by a phenomenon attendant on
those preternatural conditions of the body
which follow excitements of an analogous
kind. The victims of the flogging and
dancing manias in the middle ages, and
subjects of the fanatical fervors of camp-meetings
and revivals, alike experienced a
windy intestinal distension, consequent on
the departure of their mental frenzy. To
control this disagreeable symptom, the candidates
for both species of afflatus used to come
to their meetings provided with napkins and
rollers with which to bind their middles, and
prevent the supervening inflation. Persons
so puffed up would certainly float with all
the buoyancy ascribed to the German witches,
if cast into water; but they would still
preserve their proper corporeal gravity if
placed in a scale. Unless, then, we suppose
Delrio to have been the dupe of some singular
and unaccountable delusion on this point,
the typanitic affections of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">convulsionnaires</span></span>
will not account for the anti-gravitating
phenomena ascribed to medieval witchcraft.
There are some reasons, however, for
the belief that these appearances may not
have been wholly imaginary; for if any reliance
can be placed on the concurrent traditions
of all religions, Pagan as well as Christian,
supported by wide-spread popular belief,
the high mental exaltation induced by religious
abstraction, and also by other vehement
affections of the mind, is actually attended
with a diminished specific gravity. Of alleged
ecclesiastical miracles of this kind it is better
to say nothing. The Roman Catholic and
the Hindoo devotees equally claim for their
adepts in religious contemplation an exemption
from (among other earthly liabilities)
the hindrance of weight. In the rapture of
prayer, the ascetic and the saint alike rise in
the air, and spurn the law of gravitation with
the other incidents of matter. Suspected
evidences of this kind are, however, of no
weight in philosophical inquiry. It will be
safer to leave the Etstaticas and the Fakirs<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page207">[pg 207]</span><a name="Pg207" id="Pg207" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
to their respective believers, and to take a
story of the people, into which religious considerations
do not so directly enter. The native
Irish, then, have a remarkable tradition,
as old, at least, as the seventh or eighth century,
that phrenetic madmen lose the corporeal
quality of weight. A picturesque and
romantic example of this belief is found in
the story of the fate of Suibhne, son of Colman,
King of Dalnaraidhe, as related in the
bardic accounts of the battle of Moyra. Suibhne,
a valiant warrior, has offered an insult
to Saint Ere, Bishop of Slane; the affront is
avenged by a curse, the usual retaliation of
aggrieved ecclesiastics in those days. The
curse falls on Sweeny in the most grievous
form of visitation that could afflict a warrior:—a
fit of cowardice seizes him in the very onset
of the battle, and drives him frantic with
terror. "Giddiness came over him at the
sight of the horrors, grimness, and rapidity
of the Gaels; at the fierce looks, brilliance,
and ardor of the foreigners; at the rebounding
furious shouts of the embattled tribes on
both sides, rushing against and coming into
collision with one another. Huge, flickering,
horrible, aërial phantoms, rose up (around
him), so that from the uproar of the battle,
the frantic pranks of the demons, the clashing
of arms, and the sound of the heavy blows
reverberating on the points of heroic spears,
and keen edges of swords, and warlike borders
of broad shields, the hero Suibhne was
filled and intoxicated with horror, panic, and
imbecility; his feet trembled as if incessantly
shaken by the force of a stream; the inlets
of his hearing were expanded and quickened
by the horrors of lunacy; his speech became
faltering from the giddiness of imbecility; his
very soul fluttered with hallucinations, and
with many and various phantasms. He might
be compared to a salmon in a weir, or to a
bird after being caught in the strait prison
of a crib," &amp;c. "When he was seized with
this frantic fit, he made a supple, very light
leap, and where he alighted he was on the
boss of the shield of the warrior next him;
and he made a second leap, and perched on
the crest of the helmet of the same hero, who,
nevertheless, did not feel him. Then he
made a third active, very light leap, and
perched on the top of the sacred tree which
grew on the smooth surface of the plain in
which the inferior people and the debilitated
of the men of Erin were seated, looking on
at the battle. These shouted at him when
they saw him, to press him back into the
battle again; and he in consequence made
three furious leaps to shun the battle, but
through the giddiness and imbecility of his
hallucination, he went back into the same
field of conflict; but it was not on the earth
he walked, but alighted on the shoulders of
men and the tops of their helmets," &amp;c.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In this state, Suibhne flits off the field of
battle like a bird, or a waif of the forest,
without weight, and betakes himself to
the wilds, where he "herds with the deer,
runs races with the showers, and flees with
the birds," as a wild denizen of the wilderness;
but with his ecstacy of terror, he receives
the gift of prophecy. Dr. O'Donovan,
in a note on this curious passage, observes,
"it was the ancient belief in Ireland, and still
is in the wilder mountainous districts, that
lunatics are as light as feathers, and can climb
steeps and precipices like the somnambulists."—See
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Buile Suibhne</span></span>, a bardic romance on
the madness of this unfortunate warrior.
This latter romance is occupied with Suibhne's
adventures as a mad prophet, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Omadh</span></span>, in Irish.
Query did the Bacchus <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Omadios</span></span> of the
Greeks derive his name from a similar
source? It would be a singular coincidence
that would make a Greek god an <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">omadran</span></span>.
Keats, with a fine intuition, has depicted
those <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">mores afflatorum</span></span>, in the satyrs who do
the benevolent biddings of Pan:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Thou, to whom every faun and satyr flies,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> For willing service; whether, to surprise</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> The squatted hare, while, in half-sleeping fit,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Or upward ragged precipices flit</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Or by mysterious enticement draw</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Bewildered shepherds to their paths again."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Compare with this picture of the Irish lunatic
among the boughs of the tree on the
field of Moira, the following extracts from
Bosroger's account of the possession of the
nuns of Louviers, in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">a.d.</span></span> 1642. One of the
sisters, surnamed De Jesus, conceived herself
to be possessed by a demon whom she called
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Arracon</span></span>. "On the occasion of a procession
of the host by Monseigneur the Bishop of
Evreux, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Arracon</span></span> exhibited another example
of his quality, causing sister De Jesus to pour
forth a torrent of blasphemies and furious
expressions all the time of the procession.
When she was brought into the choir, and
held fast by an exorcist, for fear of her offering
some insult, the holy sacrament was borne
past her. Arracon immediately caused her
to be shot forward through the air to a considerable
distance, so as to strike the gilt sun
in which the adorable eucharist was placed,
out of the hands of the lord bishop; and the
exorcist making an effort to detain her, the
demon lifted her up in the air over an accoudoir,
or leaning place, of three feet in height,
intending to lift her, as he declared, into the
vault, but the exorcist holding fast, all he
could do was to cast the nun and exorcist
back to the floor together," &amp;c. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Putiphar</span></span>,
the possessor of Sister Saint Sacrement,
"made her with wonderful impetuosity run up
a mulberry tree, of which the stem was easy
enough of ascent; but when she got up the
stem, he forced her onward till she approached
the extremities of the slenderest branches,
and caused her to make almost the entire
circuit of the mulberry tree, in such sort that
a man who saw her from a distance cried out
that she flew like a bird. Then the demon
permitted her to see her peril; she grew
pale, and cried out with alarm. They ran in
haste to bring a ladder, but <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Putiphar</span></span> mocked<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page208">[pg 208]</span><a name="Pg208" id="Pg208" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
them, crying, 'As I made this <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chienne</span></span> get up
without a ladder, so she shall go down,'
and caused her descend the same slender
branches to the stem, and thence to the
ground."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Pere de la Menarday, in his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Examen Critique
de l'Histoire des Diables de London</span></span>,
gives a letter from a missionary priest in Cochin
China, describing a case of demonopathy,
in the course of which, if we could believe
the narrator, the patient seemed for a
time to have conquered all the ordinary tendencies
of gravitation. The missionary, M.
Delacourt, writing from Paris, 25th November,
1738, begins by protesting his unwillingness
to expose himself to the repulses of public
incredulity; but for his friends' sake consents
to give the particulars. "Voici donc
le fait dans ses principales circonstances <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">tel
que je l'ai vu de mes propres yeux</span></span>." In the
month of May, 1733, a young native communicant,
named Dodo, residing at the town of
Cheta, in the province of Cham, and kingdom
of Cochin China, being reproached by his
conscience for the suppression of some facts
in his confession, fell into violent convulsions
on attempting to take the host in his mouth.
He was brought to the missionary, foaming,
leaping, and blaspheming in the manner usual
among victims of his malady. After many
exorcisms, both by the missionary and by
two other ecclesiastics, which only increased
his sufferings, he was at length, by gentler
entreaties, brought to make a confession.
The missionary then renewed his exorcisms,
which he continued for a month with little
success. "At last," says he, "I determined
to make a last effort, and to imitate the example
of Monseigneur the Bishop of Tilopolis
on a like occasion, namely, in my exorcism to
command the demon in Latin to transport
him to the ceiling of the church, feet up and
head down. On the instant his body became
rigid, and as though he were impotent of all
his members, he was dragged from the middle
of the church to a column, and there, his
feet joined fast together, his back closely applied
to the pillar, without aiding himself
with his hands, he was transported in the
twinkling of an eye to the ceiling, just like a
weight run up by a cord, without any visible
agency. While he hung there, with his feet
glued to the ceiling, and his head down, I
made the demon, for I had determined to
confound and humiliate him, confess the
falsehood of the Pagan religion. I made him
confess that he was a deceiver, and at the
same time admit the holiness of Christianity.
I kept him for better than half an hour in the
air, and not possessing enough of constancy
to hold him there any longer, so frightened
was I myself at what I saw, I at length commanded
him to lay the patient at my feet
without harming him. Immediately he cast
him down before me with no more hurt to
him than if he had been a bundle of foul
linen." It is by no means improbable that
Pere Delacourt himself had become infected
with the madness of the monomaniac whom
he was engaged in exorcising, before his eyes
conceived that extraordinary image of the
patient ascending by invisible agency to the
ceiling of the church. But his letter bears
evident marks of having been written under
a sincere belief of the reality of all that he describes,
and he refers to several living witnesses
of the scene.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Reverting to this subject of optical illusion,
already glanced at, we find still another resemblance
between the mysticism of the ancients
and moderns. The priestess rendering
herself invisible to the bystanders, appears
to transcend all the rest of Jamblichus's wonders.
Strange to say, even this pretension
of the Colophonian prophetess is not without
something analogous among the alleged phenomena
of mesmerism. "I requested a young
lady," says Dr. Elliotson, "whom I had long
mesmerised, with the never-tiring devotion
of a parent, and in whom I produced a variety
of phenomena, to promise to be unable on
waking to see her maid, who always sat in
the room at work during my visit, till I left
the room, and then at once to discern her.
On waking, she said she did not see the maid,
but said she saw the chair on which the maid
sat. Presently, however, she saw the maid,
was agitated, had an hysteric fit, and passed
into the sleep-waking state. I now inquired
how she came to see her maid, as I had not
left the room, and told her she must not (see
the maid), when I awoke her again. I then
awoke her again; she could not see the maid,
was astonished at the maid's absence, and at
first supposed she was in an adjoining room;
but presently rang the bell twice, though the
woman was standing before her, I moved just
out of the room, leaving the door open, and
she saw the maid instantly, and was astonished,
and laughed." In the Colophonian
oracle, they were the spectators, not the
prophetess, who had need thus to be put under
the influence of the mesmeric <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">glamour</span></span>.
Can it be that, in certain diseased states of
the optic nerve, it really is subject to the illusion
of seeing objects rise in air, as well as go
round in horizontal motion? They who saw
these sights in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">adyta</span></span> of temples, in caves
and sacred groves, in initiations and oracular
consultations, were all prepared by fasting,
watching, and prayer, for the reception of
biological influence, and possibly may have
seemed to themselves to see what others desired
they should believe themselves to have
actually seen. Was Lord Shrewsbury under
this influence at Caldaro?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But the reader will begin to suspect that
his credulity is about to be solicited for the
aërial flights of witches on their sweeping
brooms. This apprehension may be dismissed.
Witchcraft, or, to call it by its proper pathological
name, demonopathy, was a true delusion,
true so far as the belief of the monomaniacs
themselves was concerned, but resting<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page209">[pg 209]</span><a name="Pg209" id="Pg209" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
wholly in their own distempered imagination.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From a learned and philosophic review of
the great work of Calmeil, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">De la Folie</span></span>, in
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Dublin Quarterly Journal of Medicine</span></span>,
we extract the following <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">resumé</span></span> of the symptoms
of this dreadful epidemic malady: "The
leading phenomenon was the belief of the
sufferers that Satan had obtained full mastery
over them; that he was the object of their
most fervent worship, a certain portion of
their life being spent in the actual company
of himself and his legion of darkness, when
every crime that a diseased imagination could
suggest was committed by them. Both sexes
attended at the Devil's Sabbaths, as they were
termed, where the sorcerers met, danced, and
enjoyed every wild pleasure. To these meetings
they travelled through the air, though,
by the power of Satan, their bodies seemed
to remain at home. They killed children,
poisoned cattle, produced storms and plagues,
and held converse with Succubi and Incubi,
and other fallen spirits. At the Sabbath all
agreed, that from every country the sorcerers
arrived transported by demons. Women
perched on sticks, or riding on goats, naked,
with dishevelled hair, arrived in thousands;
they passed like meteors, and their descent
was more rapid than that of the eagle or
hawk, when striking his prey. Over this meeting
Satan presided; indecent dances and licentious
songs went on, and an altar was raised,
where Satan, with his head downward,
his feet turned up, and his back to the altar,
celebrated his blasphemous mass."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Each individual sufferer believed herself or
himself to have seen these sights, to have
gone through these origies, and to have been
transported to them through the air. If there
had been but a few confessions, and these exacted
by torture, it might be thought that the
fancies of the examiners supplied the phenomena,
to which the sufferers merely gave an
enforced and worthless assent. But the confessions
were as often voluntary as forced,
and were indeed rather triumphant bravadoes
than confessions of anything that the sufferers
themselves deemed shameful. It was a true
belief in the minds of the parties affected.
The question has already been asked, were
they <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">en rapport</span></span> with the rest of the diseased
multitude, in whose minds the common delusion
existed? The question presupposes a
mental sympathy and participation, by one
mind, of images existing in another, which is
one of the alleged manifestations of clairvoyance.
But there is another mode of accounting
for these and similar phenomena, which
as yet obtains the approval of physicians,
more than any suggestions of clairvoyant
communications. It is, that there are certain
states of the body in which the patient truly
believes himself to see particular objects, to
do particular acts, and to possess special powers,
which to the rest of the world have no
existence, but in respect of the patient himself
are realities as visible, tangible, and perceptible,
as the actual existences which surround
him. For example, it is a fact which
admits of no dispute, that a certain quantity
of alcohol taken into the human stomach will
cause the drinker to fall into <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">delirium tremens</span></span>;
and that in that state the patient will,
with his waking eyes, see objects of a particular
kind; in nine cases out of ten, the
forms of rats and mice running over his bed,
and about his person. There is no public delusion
here, no popular mind possessed with
a fixed idea of these appearances, to which
the individual delusions might be referred;
yet the swallower of the alcohol in Dublin,
and the swallower of the alcohol in Calcutta,
will both see exactly the same sorts of appearances,
and will both express precisely the
same horror and disgust at their supposed tormentors.
Is it the case, then, that, as the
forms of rats and mice come into the minds
of men in one kind of mental sickness, the
forms of men and women riding on goats and
broomsticks through the air, and the other
apparatus of the witch-sabbaths, may have
been but the manifestations of another disordered
state of the mental organism, a symptom
merely and concomitant of an epidemical
disease? It is easy enough to understand how
symptoms so simple as the appearance of
what are usually called "blue devils" should
be constant in their attendance on a particular
state of cerebral disorder; but when the
hallucination becomes so complex as in the
fantasies of witchcraft, it is difficult to suppose
that that long train of appearances and
imaginary transactions should follow on a
merely pathological derangement of the brain.
Between the two alternatives of referring
these hallucinations to such a cause, on the
one hand, or to a mesmeric sympathy, as
above suggested, between the individual and
the crowd of the possessed, on the other, it
is hard to choose; but, perhaps, the latter will
appear to offer the less amount of difficulty.
In the present state of knowledge, however,
it would be rash to say that a particular state
of diseased cerebral action might not be attended
with a perfect set of supposed phenomena
as complex and constant in the minds
of the sufferers, as those which existed among
the victims of demonomania.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An example less difficult of reconcilement
with the theory of cerebral disorder than that
of the witchcraft of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries, and yet more complex than that
of the fantasies of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">delirium tremens</span></span>, may be
found in the case of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">lycanthropism</span></span>, or that
form of mania in which men have fancied
themselves transformed into wolves. This
disease also is contagious; and on many occasions
has exhibited itself in all the terrors
of a maniacal epidemic. As early as the time
of Herodotus the belief was rife among the
Græco-Scythian colonies that a people called
the Neuri were subject to this species of metamorphosis;
and Giraldus Cambrensis, in<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page210">[pg 210]</span><a name="Pg210" id="Pg210" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the twelfth century, found the same superstition
in full force in Ireland. It again broke
forth in Livonia, its ancient seat, with all the
symptoms of a periodical annual epidemic, in
the sixteenth century. Peucer gives the following
account of what these maniacs themselves
believed to happen to them. "Immediately
after Christmas day, in each year, a
club-footed boy appears, who goes round the
country, and summons all those slaves of Satan,
of whom there are great numbers, to assemble
and follow him. If they hesitate or
refuse, a tall man appears, armed with a whip
of flexible iron wires, and compels them with
blows of his scourge to come forth and proceed.
He whips them so severely, that oft-times
the stripes left by the iron thongs remain
impressed on their bodies and torment
them cruelly. As soon as they go out and
follow in the train, they seem to lose their
human form, and to put on the appearance
of wolves. Several thousands thus assemble.
The leader walks before with his iron scourge;
the crowd of those who, in their delusion,
imagine that they have become wolves, follow
after. Wherever they meet with cattle
they rush upon them and rend them; they
carry off such portions as they can, and do
much destruction; but to touch or injure
mankind is not permitted to them. When
they come to rivers, the leader with a stroke
of his whip divides the waters, which stand
apart, leaving a dry channel by which they
cross. After twelve days the band disperses,
and every man resumes his own form, the
vulpine mask dropping off him. The way in
which the change takes place is this, as they
allege: those who undergo the change, which
occupies but a moment, drop suddenly down
as if struck with a fit, and so lie senseless and
like dead persons; but they do not in fact go
away or change their places at all; nor while
lying in that seemingly lifeless state do they
exhibit any vulpine appearance whatever,
but they go out of themselves (and leave
themselves) like dead bodies; and save that
they are convulsed, and roll about somewhat,
they exhibit no sign or evidence of life.
Hence the opinion has arisen that their spirits
only are taken forth of their bodies, and put
for a time into the phantasms of vulpine
forms; and then, after doing the bidding of
the devil in that way, are remitted back to
their proper bodies, which thereupon are restored
to animation; and the were-wolves
themselves confirm this belief by acknowledging
that in truth the human form is not withdrawn
from their bodies, nor the vulpine appearance
substituted for it; but that it is
their spirits only which are impelled to leave
their human bodily prisons, and enter into
the bodies of wolves, in which they dwell
and are carried about for the prescribed space
of time. Some of those who have stated that
they came long distances after escaping from
the chains of their wolfish imprisonment, being
questioned how they got out of that confinement,
and why they returned, and how
they could cross such wide and deep rivers,
gave answer that the imprisoning forms no
longer confined them, that they felt coerced
to come out of them, and passed over the rivers
by aërial flight."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The same features marked the outbreak of
lycanthropy in the years 1598-1600, among
the Vaudois. The possessed fell into catalepsy,
and lay senseless during the time they
imagined themselves in their bestial transformation.
The disease was almost uniformly
complicated with demonopathy, or the possession
of witchcraft.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There seems no reason to doubt that lycanthropism
was a disease as constant in its
character and as well defined in its symptoms
as <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">delirium tremens</span></span>, or any of the ordinary
forms of mania. The evidences of its existence
are, however, considerably stronger
than those of witchcraft; for where on the
one hand no credible witness ever saw a witch
either at the sabbath, or on her way to it,
or on her return from it, there are not wanting
distinct proofs on oath, corroborated by
admitted facts in judicial proceedings, of persons
afflicted with lycanthropy traversing the
woods on all-fours, and being found bloody
from the recent slaughter both of beasts and
human victims; and in one of these cases,
that of Jacques Roulet, tried before the Parliament
of Paris in 1598, the body of a newly
slain child, half mangled, and with all the
marks of having been gnawed by canine
teeth, was found close to the place where the
maniac was arrested. It is worthy of remark
that both lycanthropists and witches ascribed
the power of disembodying themselves to the
use of ointments. Antiquity furnishes no
parallel to the horrors of these malignant and
homicidal manias. Their analogues may be
found in the fabled styes of Circe, or in the
frenzied raptures of the Sybilline and Delphic
priestesses; but the extent, the variety, and
the hideousness of the disease in modern
times, infinitely surpass all that was ever
dreamt of in Pagan credulity. The points of
resemblance, however, are not yet exhausted.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A chief sign of the divine afflatus," says
Jamblichus, citing Porphyry, "is, that he who
induces the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">numen</span></span> into himself, sees the spirit
descending, and its quantity and quality.
Also, he who receives the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">numen</span></span> sees before
the reception a certain likeness of a fire;
sometimes, also, this is beheld by the bystanders,
both at the advent and the departure
of the god. By which sign, they who
are skilful in these matters discern, with perfect
accuracy, what is the power of the numen,
and what its order, and what are the
things concerning which it can give true responses,
and what it is competent to do....
Thus it is that the excellence of this divine
fire, and appearance, as it were, of ineffable
light, comes down upon, and fills, and dominates
over the possessed person, and he is
wholly involved in it, so that he cannot do<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page211">[pg 211]</span><a name="Pg211" id="Pg211" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
any act of himself.... But after this comes
ecstacy, or disembodiment."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thomas Bartholin (brother of Gaspar) has
anticipated the inquiries of Sir Henry Marsh,
and of Reichenbach himself, on the subject
of light from the human body. In a treatise,
full of singular learning, "De luce Animalium,"
he has adduced a multitude of examples
of the evolution of light from the living
as well as the dead body, and in the cases of
secular and pagan, as well as of ecclesiastical
and Christian, persons; and this, without
having recourse to any testimony of the Hagiologists.
The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Aureolæ</span></span> of the Christian
saints may not, after all, have been the merely
fanciful additions of superstitious artists.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The convulsive distortions of the Pythoness
were but a feeble type of the phenomena
of demonopathy, or the supposed possession
of the middle ages. It was chiefly in convents,
among the crowd of young girls and
women, that these dreadful disorders were
used to break out; but the visitation was not
confined to convents, nor to the profession of
any particular creed. Wherever religious
excitation prevailed among the young and
susceptible, especially when they happened
to be brought together in considerable numbers,
there the pest was attracted, as a fever
or other malady would be attracted by a foul
atmosphere. No patient in the magnetic
coma ever exhibited such prodigies of endurance
as thousands of the involuntary victims
of these contagious manias. Who in any
modern <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">seance</span></span> has beheld a patient supported
only on the protuberance of the stomach,
with the head and limbs everted, and the
arms raised in the air, and so remaining
curved into the appearance of a fish on a stall,
tied by the tail and gills, motionless for hours
at a time? Or what rigidity of muscle in
magnetic catalepsy has ever equalled that of
a convulsionnaire, who would weary the
strongest man, inflicting blows of a club, to
the number of several thousands a day, on
her stomach, while sustaining herself in an
arc solely by the support of the head and the
heels? Madame de Sazilli, who was exorcised
in presence of the Duke of Orleans, at
London, in 1631, "became, at the command
of Pere Elisce, supple as a plate of lead. The
exorcist plaited her limbs in various ways,
before and behind, to this side and to that,
in such sort that her head would sometimes
almost touch the ground, her demon (say her
malady) retaining her in each position immovably
until she was put into the next.
Next came the demon Sabulon, who rolled
her through the chapel with horrible convulsions.
Five or six times he carried her left
foot up higher than her shoulder; all the
while her eyes were fixed, wide open, without
winking; after that he threw out her
limbs till she touched the ground, with her
legs extended straight on either side, and
while in that posture, the exorcist compelled
her to join her hands, and with the trunk of
the body in an erect posture, to adore the
holy sacrament." We seem to read the proceedings
of an electro-biologist, rather than
of a pastor of the church: but the parallel is
not yet at an end. "The same nun," says
Calmeil, "towards the close of her exorcism,
executed a command which the Duke imparted
secretly to her exorcist." Then follows
this remarkable admission of the learned
and cautious physiologist:—"On hundreds
of occasions one might believe, in effect, that
the Energumenes read the thoughts of the
ecclesiastics who were charged with the combating
of their demons. It is certain that
these young women were endowed, during
their excesses of hysteria or nervous exaltation,
with a penetration of mind altogether
unique." The children of the fanatics of the
Cevennes, while in their supposed prophetic
ecstacies, spoke the purest dialect of French,
and expressed themselves with singular propriety.
The same facility of speaking in a
fluent and exalted style while in the divinatory
ecstacy, was remarked of old in the case
of the Pythian priestess. "Though it cannot
be divined," says Plutarch, in his "Inquiry,"
"why the Pythian priestess ceases to deliver
her oracles in verse; but that her parentage
was virtuous and honest, and that she always
lived a sober and chaste life, yet her education
was among poor, laboring people, so that
she was advanced to the oracular sect rude
and unpolished, void of all the advantages of
art or experience. For, as it is the opinion of
Xenophon, that a virgin, ready to be espoused,
ought to be carried to the bridegroom's
house before she has either seen or heard the
least communication, so the Pythian priestess
ought to converse with Apollo illiterate and
ignorant almost of every thing, still approaching
his presence with a truly virgin soul."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We might here, without any stretch of imagination,
suppose we are reading a commentary
on the birth and character of Joan of
Arc, or of any of the prophetesses of the
Swiss Anabaptists. But to return to the possessions
recorded by Calmeil.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The biological relations alleged by the mesmerists
appear in still stronger development
in the case of the nuns of Auxonne in 1662.
The Bishop of Chalons reports, speaking of
the possessed, "that all the aforesaid young
women, being in number eighteen, as well
seculars as regulars, and without a single exception,
appeared to him to have obtained the
gift of tongues, inasmuch as they accurately
replied to the matters in Latin, which were
addressed to them by their exorcists, and
which were not borrowed from the ritual,
still less arranged by any preconcert; they
frequently explained themselves in Latin—sometimes
in entire periods, sometimes in
broken sentences;" "that all or almost all of
them were proved to have introvision (<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cognizance
de l'interieur</span></span>) and knowledge of
whatever thought might be secretly addressed
to them, as appeared particularly in the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page212">[pg 212]</span><a name="Pg212" id="Pg212" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
case of the internal commands which were
often addressed to them by the exorcists, and
which in general they obeyed implicitly, although
without any external signification of
the command, either verbal or by way of
sign; as the said Lord Bishop experienced in
many instances, among others, in that of Denise
Parisot, whom the exorcist having commanded,
in the depths of his own mind, to
come to him for the purpose of being exorcised,
she came incontinently, though dwelling
in a remote part of the town; telling the
Lord Bishop that she had received his commands
and was come accordingly; and this
she did on several occasions; likewise in the
person of Sister Jamin, a novice, who, on recovering
from her fit, told him the internal
commandment which he had given to her
demon during the exorcism; also in the case
of the Sister Borthon, to whom having issued
a mental commandment in one of her paroxysms
to come and prostrate herself before
the Holy Sacrament, with her face to the
ground and her arms stretched forward, she
executed his command at the very instant
that he willed it, with a promptitude and precipitation
altogether wonderful."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Sister Denise Parisot, one of those who exhibited
these singularities, also displayed a
farther and very remarkable manifestation
of what would now be called biological influence.
"Being commanded by his Lordship
to make the pulse of her right arm entirely
cease beating while that of the left continued,
and then to transfer the pulsation so as to
beat in the right arm while it should stop in
the left, she executed his orders with the utmost
precision in the presence of the physician
(Morel), who admitted and deposed to
the fact, and of several ecclesiastics. Sister
de la Purification did the same thing two or
three times, causing her pulse to beat or to
stop at the command of the exorcist."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Instead of exorcist we may, without much
apprehension of offending either the reason
or the belief of any candid person, read
"Mesmerist." The passes seem similar, the
phenomena identical. Again, in the case of
the girls of the parish of Landes, near Bayeux,
in 1732, the orders given by the exorcists in
Latin appeared to be well understood by the
patients. "In general," says Calmeil, quoting
the contemporaneous account of their
possession, "during the ecstatic access, the
sense of touch was not excited even by the
application of fire; nevertheless the exorcists
affirm that their patients yielded immediate
attention to the thoughts which they (the
exorcists) refrained from expressing, and that
they described with exactness the interior of
distant houses which they had never before
seen."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This long and varied survey of different
forms of physical and mental malady brings
us to a point where we may, with some confidence,
take our stand on inductive conclusions.
It seems evident, then, that all the
phenomena of animal magnetism have been
from an early period known to mankind under
the various forms of divinatory ecstasy,
demonopathy or witchmania, theomania, or
fanatical religious excitation, spontaneous catalepsy,
and somnambulism. That, in addition
to the ordinary manifestations of insensibility
to pain, rigidity, and what is called
clairvoyance, the patients affected with
the more intense conditions of the malady
have at all times exhibited a marvellous command
of languages; a seeming participation
in the thoughts, sensations, and impulses of
others; a power of resisting, for some short
time at least, the action of fire; and, perhaps,
a capacity of evolving some hitherto
unknown energy counteractive of the force
of gravitation. That the condition of mind
and body in question can be induced by means
addressed to each and all of the senses, as
well as involuntarily by way of sympathy or
contagion. That the fixing of the eyes on a
particular point, as a wafer, or the umbilicus,
or on a polished ball or mirror, is one of the
most general and efficacious means of artificially
inducing the condition of clairvoyance.
That it may also, on those prepared for its
reception by strong mental excitement, be
induced by tumultuous music, as by the
sound of drums and cymbals, by odors, and,
perhaps, by unguents; and that the same
condition also frequently supervenes on long-continued
and intense emotion, as well as on
those hysterical and convulsive movements
of the body which sometimes attend on excessive
religious excitation. That, induced
by the latter means, clairvoyance has a tendency
to become contagious, and has often
afflicted whole communities with the most
dangerous and deplorable epidemic hallucinations,
as in the fancied witch-sabbaths of the
domonomaniacs, and prowling excursions of
lycanthropes and vampyres; but that, although
in these demotic frenzies, the prevailing
ideas and images presented to the minds
of the sufferers are merely illusory, they possess
the capacity of being put in such a relation
with ideas and images derived from actual
existence in the mind of others, as to
perceive and appropriate them. Beyond this
it would be difficult to advance our speculation
with any degree of certainty; but if
speculation may be at all indulged in such a
question, it might, perhaps, be allowed to a
sanguine speculator to surmise that, possibly,
the mind in that state may be put <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">en rapport</span></span>
with not only the ideas and emotions of another
particular mind, but with the whole of
the external world, and with all its minds.
Another step would carry us to that participation
in the whole scheme of nature, pretended
to by divinators and seers; but it
must be owned that, in the present state of
the evidences, there is no solid ground on
which to rest the foot of conjecture in taking
either the one step or the other.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the mean time, many practitioners are<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page213">[pg 213]</span><a name="Pg213" id="Pg213" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
playing with an agency, the dangerous character
of which they little suspect. In ancient
exorcisms, it sometimes happened that the
exorcist himself became the involuntary recipient
of the contagious frenzy of the patient.
If such an event happened now, it
would not be more wonderful than when it
befel the Pere Surin, at Loudon, in 1635, as
he has himself described his disaster in
his letter to the Jesuit Attichi: "For three
months and a half I have never been without
a devil in full exercise within me. While I
was engaged in the performance of my ministry,
the devil passed out of the body of the
possessed, and coming into mine, assaulted
me and cast me down, shook me, and traversed
me to and fro, for several hours. I cannot
tell you what passed within me during
that time, and how that spirit united itself
with mine, leaving no liberty either of sensation
or of thought, but acting in me like another
self, or as if I possessed two souls;
these two souls making, as it were, a battle
ground of my body. When I sought, at the
instigation of the one, to make the sign of
the cross on my mouth, the other suddenly
would turn round my hand and seize the fingers
with my teeth, making me bite myself
with rage. When I sought to speak, the word
would be taken out of my mouth; at mass I
would be stopped short; at table I could not
carry the food to my mouth; at confession I
forgot my sins; in fine, I felt the devil go and
come within me as if he used me for his
daily dwelling-house."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Or, if instead of passing into a single operator,
as in the case of Surin, the diseased contagion
should suddenly expand itself among
a crowd of bystanders, there would be nothing
to wonder at, although enough to deplore,
in such a catastrophe. It would be no more
than has already happened in all the epidemics
of lycanthropy and witchmania, of the
dancers of St. Vitas, of the Jumpers, Quakers,
and Revivalists, of the Mewers, Barkers,
and Convulsionnaires. The absence of
religious pretensions among the operators
seems as yet to be the chief guarantee against
such results. If instead of being made rigid
and lucid by the manipulations of a professor,
the patients should find themselves cast into
that state by contact with the tomb of a
preacher, or with the reliques of a saint, society
would soon be revisited with all the
evils of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pseudo</span></span>-miracles and supposed demoniacal
possessions. The comparatively innocent
frenzy of the followers of Father Mathew,
was the nearest approach to a social disturbance
of that kind that our country has
been visited by since the barking epidemic
of the fourteenth century. "In the county
of Leicester, a person travelling along the
road," says Camden, "found a pair of gloves,
fit for his hands, as he thought; but when he
put them on, he lost his speech immediately,
and could do nothing but bark like a dog;
nay, from that moment, the men and women,
old and young, throughout the whole country,
barked like dogs, and the children like
whelps. This plague continued, with some
eighteen days, with others a month, and with
some for two years; and, like a contagious
distemper, at last infected the neighboring
counties, and set them a barking too."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If mesmerism did no more than demonstrate,
as it has done, that all the supposed
evidences of modern inspiration, as well as of
modern demoniacal possession and ghost-craft,
are but the manifestations of a physical
disorder, capable of being induced by ordinary
agencies, it would have done a great service
to the cause of social and religious stability.
In addition to this, it has furnished surgery
with a new narcotic, perhaps with a new
anti-spasmodic. It is not impossible that
here, at length, a means may have been found
for combating the horrors of hydrophobia.
Its higher pretensions of clairvoyance and
provision, if not proved, are at least not yet
satisfactorily disproved. Its admitted usefulness
may, perhaps, counterbalance its perils;
but in every exercise of it, whether curative
or speculative, it is never to be forgotten,
that the phenomena are those of disease,
and that the production of disease, save for
the counteraction of other maladies more
hurtful, is in itself an evil.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: right; margin-bottom: 1.00em">S. F.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc65" id="toc65"></a>
<a name="pdf66" id="pdf66"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">A CHAPTER OF EPITAPHS.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From Sharp's Magazine.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">By F. Lawrence.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The best epitaphs, according to our notion,
are generally the shortest and the plainest.
In no description of composition is elaborate
and ornate phraseology so much out
of place.  Where a world-wide reputation
has been achieved, the name alone, with the
addition perhaps of a date, is often calculated
to produce a more impressive effect than an
ostentatious inscription. It has been observed
that the simple words—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: center"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Catherine the Great to Peter the First,</span></span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">inscribed on the monument erected by the
Empress Catherine to the memory of her
husband, arrogant as they are, contain the
essence of the sublime. And, in like manner,
among the most impressive memorials in
Westminster Abbey are the words, "O rare
Ben Jonson," chiselled beneath the great play-wright's
bust, and the name of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. Dryden</span></span>,
with the date of his birth and death, and the
simple statement, that the tomb was erected,
in 1720, by John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham.
We doubt whether the effect of the
latter would have been improved by the addition
of the couplet written for it by Pope,
admirable as it is:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">This Sheffield raised: the sacred dust below</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Was Dryden once—the rest who does not know?</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Among the best epitaphs in the Poet's Corner,
we are inclined to number that on Spenser,
which combines in an eminent degree
dignity and simplicity, and possesses a character
which at once attracts attention. The<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page214">[pg 214]</span><a name="Pg214" id="Pg214" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
monument on which it appears had been
originally erected by Anne, Countess of Dorset,
and having fallen into decay, was restored,
in 1768, precisely in its old form:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Heare lyes (expecting the second</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Comminge of our Savior <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Christ</span></span></div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Jesus</span></span>) the body of Edmond Spencer,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The Prince of Poets in his tyme,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Other witnesse than the works</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Which he left behinde him.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He was borne in London in the yeare 1553,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And died in the year 1598.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The epitaph of Michael Drayton, another
of the Elizabethan poets, said by some to be
the composition of Ben Jonson, and by others
to be by Quarles, has also a species of
quaint beauty and solemnity which raises it
above the ordinary level. It was originally
in gilt letters:</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: center"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Michael Draiton</span></span>, Esq.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">       A memorable poet of this age,<br />
 Exchanged his laurell for a crowne of glorye,<br />
                 A<span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: center"><span style="vertical-align: super">o</span></span>. 1631.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Doe, pious Marble! let thy readers knowe</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  What they and what their children owe</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  To <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Draiton's</span></span> name, whose sacred dust</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  We recommend unto thy <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">trust</span></span>:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Protect his memory, and preserve his storye,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Remaine a lastinge monument of his glorye;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And when thy ruines shall disclaime</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  To be the treas'rer of his name,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  His name that cannot fade shall be</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  An everlasting monument to thee.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We cannot say that the Latin compositions
of this sort in Westminster Abbey are much
to our taste. One however, we cannot pass
over—that to the memory of Goldsmith, by
Dr. Johnson—a scholar-like production, dictated
by affection, and full of grace and tenderness.
In the delineation of the personal
and literary character of his friend, we recognize
all the grander traits of the honest giant's
loving heart and powerful pen. Nothing can
be in better taste than his commendation of
Goldsmith's genius:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Affectuum <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">potens et lenis Dominator</span></span>;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ingenio sublimis—vividus, versatilis,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus—</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of the English epitaphs, one of the most
remarkable for elegance and simplicity is that
on Purcell, the composer, reputed, on the authority
of Malone, to be by Dryden, It certainly
is not unworthy of his pen:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">            Here lyes</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">       <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Henry Purcell</span></span>, Esq.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">       Who left this life,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And is gone to that blessed place</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">     Where only his Harmony</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        Can be exceeded.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">     Obiit 21 die Novembris</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">       Anno Ætatis suæ 37</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      Annoque Domini 1695.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Among more modern inscriptions, those on
the great engineers, Watt and Telford, are
particularly worthy of notice. The former is
from the pen of Lord Brougham:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">            Not to perpetuate a name,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Which must endure while the peaceful arts flourish,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                    But to show</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      That mankind have learned to know those</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">         Who best deserve their gratitude,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                      The King,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        His ministers, and many of the nobles</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">              And commoners of the realm</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                Raised this monument to</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                      <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">James Watt</span></span>,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    Who, directing the force of an original genius,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        Early exercised in philosophic research,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        To the improvement of the Steam Engine,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">         Enlarged the resources of his country,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">              Increased the power of man,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">               And rose to eminent place</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    Among the most illustrious  followers of science,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        And the real benefactors of the world.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The inscription on Telford's monument is
equally chaste and beautiful. It presents this
noble summary of his life and character:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      The orphan son of a shepherd, self-educated,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                   He raised himself,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">       By his extraordinary talents and integrity,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    From the humble condition of an operative mason,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                And became one of the</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">       Most eminent Civil Engineers of the age.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      This marble has been erected near the spot</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">           Where his remains are deposited,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        By the friends who revered his virtues,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  But his noblest monuments are to be found amongst</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        The great public works of his country.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Every visitor will reverently pause before
the magnificent cenotaph of the great Earl of
Chatham, which, though somewhat too confused
and elaborate in its decorations, is not
unworthy of the greatest of English ministers.
Having achieved a higher reputation
as a statesman and orator than any other public
man which his country had produced, and
having fallen, as it were, in her service, the
national gratitude was displayed in an unprecedented
manner by honors paid his memory.
His body lay in state three days in the
painted chamber in the House of Lords—his
public funeral exceeded in splendor the obsequies
of princes—his debts were paid by the
nation—and finally, the stately tomb to which
we have drawn attention, was placed over
his remains. The inscription whilst exceedingly
plain and simple, is impressive and appropriate:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    Erected by the King and Parliament</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">            As a testimonial to</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">          The Virtues and Ability</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">                    of</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">William Pitt, Earl of Chatham</span></span>,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">During whose administration, in the reigns of</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        George II. and George III.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">            Divine Providence</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">           Exalted Great Britain</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">    To a height of Prosperity and Glory</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">        Unknown in any former age.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of poetical epitaphs in the Abbey some of
the most important are by Pope. Like everything
else from his pen, they are carefully
written, but viewed as monumental inscriptions,
not distinguished for any striking excellence.
Among the best of them is that on
the Honourable James Craggs, a secretary of
state, rather discreditably mixed up with the
South Sea Bubble:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Statesman, yet friend to truth! of soul sincere,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In action faithful, yet in honour clear!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who broke no promise, served no private end,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who gained no title, and who lost no friend;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ennobled by Himself, by all approved,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Praised, wept, and honored by the Muse he loved.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The one on Gay is interesting as a tribute
of friendship, and as a faithful portrait of that
pleasing and amiable poet, the simplicity of
whose character is admirably delineated in
the first couplet:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of manners gentle, and affections mild,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">In wit a man, simplicity a child</span></span>.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Altogether it is a beautiful and appropriate<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page215">[pg 215]</span><a name="Pg215" id="Pg215" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
composition, and we cannot but regret that
the monument on which it appears should be
disfigured by the doggerel, said to have been
written by Gay himself, and inscribed on the
ledge just above Pope's epitaph;</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Life is a jest, and all things show it;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I thought so once, but now I know it.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">That of Nicholas Rowe, the dramatist (also
by Pope), has been admired for the pathos of
the concluding lines, the beauty of which,
however, it is a matter of notoriety, was considerably
marred by a prosaic circumstance,
which proves the danger of assuming facts
even in poetical compositions. The monument
is commemorative of the poet and of
his only daughter, the wife of Henry Fane.
His widow survived him, and her inconsolable
affliction was beautifully depicted:-</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To these so mourned in death, so loved in life,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The childless parent and the widowed wife,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With tears inscribes this monumental stone,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That holds their ashes, <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">and expects her own</span></span>.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Almost, however, before "the monumental
stone" was finished, the disconsolate widow
dried her eyes, and married a gallant colonel
of dragoons, without considering that she was
spoiling the beauty of her husband's epitaph.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Among the most flagrant instances of false
taste, we must specify that on the tomb of
David Garrick. The tomb itself has been
described as "a theatrical conceit, of which
the design exhibits neither taste nor invention."
The epitaph was the production of
Pratt, author of Harvest Home and other lucubrations
which have long since been consigned
to the tomb of the Capulets; and both
epitaph and monument are thus spoken of
by Charles Lamb in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Essays of Elia</span></span>. Alluding
principally to the eccentric attitude of
the actor's effigy, he observes, "Though I
would not go so far, with some good Catholics
abroad, as to shut players altogether out
of consecrated ground, yet I own I was not
a little scandalized at the introduction of theatrical
airs and gestures into a place set apart
to remind us of the saddest realities. Going
nearer, I found inscribed under this burlesque
figure a farrago of false thought and nonsense."
The farrago in question is in verse,
and represents Shakspeare and Garrick as
"twin stars," who as long as time shall last
are to "irradiate earth with a beam divine."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There are but few epitaphs in St. Paul's
Cathedral—the other great resting-place of
illustrious dead—worthy of remark or reproduction.
The best in the whole edifice, and
one of the most perfect compositions of its
kind, is the well-known inscription commemorative
of its renowned architect, Sir Christopher
Wren:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Subditus conditur hujus Ecelesiæ at Urbis</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">  Conditor, <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Christopherus Wren</span></span>, qui vixit</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">      Annos ultra nonaginta, non sibi, sed</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Bono publico. <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">Lector, si monumentum requiris,</span></span></div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">               <span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-style: italic">Circumspice.</span></span></div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We need not point out the beauties of this
celebrated epitaph:—its terseness of phraseology
(to which no translation could do justice)—its
suggestiveness, grandeur and dignity.
Another Latin inscription in St. Paul's
is also deserving notice, both on account of
its merit, and the individual it commemorates—that
on Dr. Samuel Johnson, written by
the famous Dr. Parr. Of English inscriptions
in this Cathedral, the most striking is
that on the monument of John Howard. It
concludes with the well-known sentence:
"He trod an open and unfrequented path,to
immortality, in the ardent and unremitting
exercise of Christian charity. May this tribute
to his fame excite an emulation of his
truly glorious achievements."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is no very easy matter to produce a
good epitaph. Great practice in composition
is required—great power of condensation—and
the exercise of judgment and discrimination.
In efforts at epitaph-writing, few
English poets have appeared to advantage.
One or two perfect specimens, indeed, we
possess, but the success of a single writer
must be set against the failure of a great
many. Of our good epitaphs, the very best,
in our opinion, is that on the Countess Dowager
of Pembroke, the sister of Sir Philip
Sidney, by Ben Jonson. Although it has
been often quoted, we cannot exclude it from
this paper:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Underneath this sable hearse</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Lies the subject of all verse,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Death, ere thou hast slain another,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fair, and wise, and good as she,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Time shall throw his dart at thee.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Another of Jonson's epitaphs, although
more rugged in versification, is also deserving
of quotation;</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Underneath this stone doth lie</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As much virtue as could die;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Which, when alive, did vigor give</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To as much beauty as could live.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If she had a single fault,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Leave it buried in this vault.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Not a few of Pope's epitaphs, as we have
before hinted, appear tame, insipid, and characterized
by a false taste. We except the
well-known couplet for the monument of
Sir Isaac Newton, in which there are dignity
of language and boldness of conception:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nature and nature's laws lay hid in night;—</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">God said, "Let Newton be!" and all was light.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">David Garrick is the author of some very
good and characteristic epitaphs. The best,
is that on Claudius Philips, the musician, who
lived and died in great poverty. It was some
time ascribed to Dr. Johnson, but is now
known to be the production of Garrick:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Philips, whose touch harmonious could remove</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The pangs of guilty power and hapless love,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Rest here, distress'd by poverty no more,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Sleep undisturbed within this peaceful shrine,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Till angels wake thee with a note like thine.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Another of Garnet's epitaphs, is that on
Mr. Havard, the comedian, who died in 1778.
It is described by the author as a tribute "to
the memory of a character he long knew and
respected." Whatever its merits as a composition,
the professional metaphor introduced
is sadly out of place:</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page216">[pg 216]</span><a name="Pg216" id="Pg216" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"An honest man's the noblest work of God."</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Havard, from sorrow rest beneath this stone;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> An honest man—beloved as soon as known;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Howe'er defective in the mimic art,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> In real life he justly played his part!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> The noblest character he acted well,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> And heaven applauded when the curtain fell.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The one on William Hogarth, in Chiswick
Churchyard, by Garrick, is in better taste:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Farewell, great painter of mankind,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Who reach'd the noblest point of art;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Whose pictur'd morals charm the mind,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And through the eye correct the heart!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If genius fire thee, reader, stay;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  If nature touch thee, drop a tear:-</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If neither move thee, turn away,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  For Hogarth's honor'd dust lies here.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Some distinguished men have amused themselves,
while living, by inditing epitaphs for
themselves. Franklin, and the great lawyer
and orientalist, Sir William Jones, have left
characteristic performances of this kind in
prose, and from Matthew Prior we have a
mock-serious one in verse. The latter has
been often quoted, but it will bear repetition:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nobles and heralds, by your leave,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Here lie the bones of Matthew Prior:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The son of Adam and of Eve,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Can Bourbon or Nassau go higher?</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the same spirit, but superior in tone and
quality, is the following, the authorship of
which is unknown, "on a poor but honest
man:"</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Stop, reader, here, and deign to look</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  On one without a name,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Ne'er enter'd in the ample book</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Of fortune or of fame.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Studious of peace, he hated strife;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Meek virtues fill'd his breast;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His coat of arms, "a spotless life,"</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  "An honest heart" his crest.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Quarter'd therewith was innocence,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And thus his motto ran:</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"A conscience void of all offence,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Before both God and man."</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In the great day of wrath, through pride</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Now scorns his pedigree,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thousands shall wish they'd been allied</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  To this great family.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The thought in Prior's is ludicrously expressed
in the following, from a monument
erected in 1703, in the New Church burying-ground,
Dundee, to the memory of J. R.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here lies a Man,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Com'd of Adam and Eve;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">If any will climb higher,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I give him leave.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Amongst poetical epitaphs, of the more
elaborate class, we must notice two by Mason;
one to the memory of his mother, in Bristol
Cathedral, and the other on a young lady
named Drummond, in the church of Brodsworth,
Yorkshire. We have space for only
the latter.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here sleeps what once was beauty, once was grace;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Grace, that with tenderness and sense combined</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To form that harmony of soul and face,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Where brainy shines the mirror of the mind.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Such was the maid that, in the morn of youth,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  In virgin innocence, in nature's pride,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Blest with each art that owes its charms to truth,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Sank in her father's fond embrace, and died.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He weeps; O venerate the holy tear!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  Faith lends her aid to ease affliction's load;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The parent mourns his child upon the bier,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  The Christian yields an angel to his God.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of whimsical and satirical epitaphs—some
actually inscribed on tombstones, and others
intended for pasquinades—a large collection
might be made. We have little taste for
these anomalous compositions, nor do we consider
it creditable to the national character,
that so many English churchyards can be
pointed out where they occur. But there
are those who will make even the tomb a
subject of pleasant humors. The epitaph
for the tomb of Sir John Vanbrugh, distinguished
as a dramatist and architect, and reflecting
on his achievements in the latter capacity,
is as follows:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Lie heavy on him, Earth, for he</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Laid many a heavy load on thee.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The original of the following is among the
epigrams of Boileau:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here lies my wife; there let her lie;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">She is at rest—and so am I.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We do not suppose that this was ever engraved
on a tombstone, either in French or
English; but the following lines are said to
have been copied from a slab in an English
church:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here lies the body of Sarah Sexton,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who as a wife did never vex one;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">We can't say that for her at the next stone.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The next specimen is also known to have
appeared on a tomb in Essex:—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Here lies the man Richard,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And Mary his wife;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Their surname was Pritchard;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  They lived without strife;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And the reason was plain;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  They abounded in riches,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">They no care had nor pain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">  And the wife wore the breeches.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We will not multiply examples of these
compositions. Lines of the description we
have quoted have often found their way into
print, and we have selected one or two of
the least offensive as examples of eccentricity.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc67" id="toc67"></a>
<a name="pdf68" id="pdf68"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE GOOD OLD TIMES IN PARIS.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span class="tei tei-hi" style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 144%; font-variant: small-caps">An Adventure With Robbers.</span></span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From Chamber's Edinburgh Journal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The world, since it was a world at all, has
ever been fond of singing the praises of
the good old times. It would seem a general
rule, that so soon as we get beyond a certain
age, whatever that may be, we acquire a high
opinion of the past, and grumble at every
thing new under the sun. One cause of this
may be, that distance lends enchantment to
the view, and that the history of the past,
like a landscape travelled over, loses in review
all the rugged and wearisome annoyances
that rendered it scarcely bearable in
the journey. But it is hardly worth while
to speculate upon the causes of an absurdity
which a little candid retrospection will do
more to dissipate than whole folios of philosophy.
We can easily understand a man who
sighs that he was not born a thousand years
hence instead of twenty or thirty years ago,
but that any one should encourage a regret
that his lot in life was not cast a few centuries
back, seems inexplicable on any rational
grounds. The utter folly of praising the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page217">[pg 217]</span><a name="Pg217" id="Pg217" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
good old times may be illustrated by a reference
to the wretched condition of most
European cities; but we shall confine ourselves
to the single case of Paris, now one
of the most beautiful capitals in the world.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the thirteenth century the streets of
Paris were not paved; they were muddy
and filthy to a very horrible degree, and
swine constantly loitered about and fed in
them. At night there were no public lights,
and assassinations and robberies were far
from infrequent. At the beginning of the
fourteenth century public lighting was begun
on a limited scale; and at best only a few
tallow candles were put up in prominent
situations. The improvement, accordingly,
did little good, and the numerous bands of
thieves had it still pretty much their own
way. Severity of punishment seldom compensates
the want of precautionary measures.
It was the general custom at this period to
cut off the ears of a condemned thief after
the term of his imprisonment had elapsed.
Thia was done that offenders might be readily
recognized should they dare again to enter
the city, banishment from which was a part
of the sentence of such as were destined to
be cropped. But they often found it easier
to fabricate false ears than to gain a livelihood
away from the arena of their exploits;
and this measure, severe and cruel as it was,
was found inefficient to rid the capital of
their presence.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Among the various adventures with thieves,
detailed by an author contemporaneous with
Louis XIII., the following affords a rich example
of the organization of the domestic
brigands of the time, and of the wretched
security which the capital afforded to its inhabitants.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A celebrated advocate named Polidamor
had by his reputation for riches aroused the
covetousness of some chiefs of a band of
brigands, who flattered themselves that could
they catch him they would obtain possession
of an important sum. They placed upon his
track three bold fellows, who, after many
fruitless endeavors, encountered him one
evening accompanied only by a single lackey.
Seizing fast hold of himself and attendant,
they rifled him in a twinkling; and as he had
accidentally left his purse at home, they took
his rich cloak of Spanish cloth and silk, which
was quite new, and of great value. Polidamor,
who at first resisted, found himself compelled
to yield to force, but asked as a favor
to be allowed to redeem his mantle. This
was agreed to at the price of thirty pistoles;
and the rogues appointed a rendezvous the
next day, at six in the evening, on the same
spot, for the purpose of effecting the exchange.
They recommended him to come
alone, assuring him that his life would be
endangered should he appear accompanied
with an escort. Polidamor repaired to the
place at the appointed hour, and after a few
moments of expectation he saw a carriage
approaching in which were seated four persons
in the garb of gentlemen. They descended
from the vehicle, and one of them,
advancing towards the advocate, asked him
in a low voice if he were not in search of a
cloak of Spanish cloth and silk. The victim
replied in the affirmative, and declared himself
prepared to redeem it at the sum at
which it had been taxed. The thieves having
assured themselves that he was alone, seized
him, and made him get into the carriage;
and one of them presenting a pistol to his
breast, bade him hold his tongue under pain
of instant death, while another blindfolded
him. As the advocate trembled with fear,
they assured him that no harm was intended,
and bade the coachman drive on.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After a rapid flight, which was yet long
enough to inspire the prisoner with deadly
terror, the carriage stopped in front of a
large mansion, the gate of which opened to
receive them, and closed again as soon as
they had passed the threshold. The robbers
alighted with their captive, from whose eyes
they now removed the bandage. He was led
into an immense saloon, where were a number
of tables, upon which the choicest viands
were profusely spread, and seated at which
was a company of gentlemanly-looking personages,
who chatted familiarly together,
without the slightest demonstration of confusion
or alarm. His guardians again enjoined
him to lay aside all fear, informed him that
he was in good society, and that they had
brought him there solely that they might enjoy
the pleasure of his company at supper.
In the mean while water was served to the
guests, that they might wash their hands before
sitting at table. Every man took his
place, and a seat was assigned to Polidamor
at the upper and privileged end of the board.
Astonished, or rather stupefied at the strange
circumstances of his adventure, he would
willingly have abstained from taking any part
in the repast; but he was compelled to make
a show of eating, in order to dissemble his
mistrust and agitation. When the supper
was ended and the tables were removed, one
of the gentlemen who had assisted in his capture
accosted him with polite expressions of
regret at his want of appetite. During the
interchange of courtesies which ensued, one
of the bandits took a lute, another a viol, and
the party began to amuse themselves with
music. The advocate was then invited to
walk into a neighboring room, where he perceived
a considerable number of mantles
ranged in order. He was desired to select
his own, and to count out the thirty pistoles
agreed upon, together with one for coach-hire,
and one more for his share of the reckoning
at supper. Polidamor, who had been
apprehensive that the drama of which his
mantle had been the occasion might have a
very different <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">dénouement</span></span>, was but too well
pleased to be quit at such a cost, and he took
leave of the assembly with unfeigned expressions<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page218">[pg 218]</span><a name="Pg218" id="Pg218" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
of gratitude. The carriage was called,
and before entering it he was again blindfolded;
his former conductors returned with
him to the spot where he had been seized,
where, removing the bandage from his eyes,
they allowed him to alight, presenting him
at the same moment with a ticket sealed
with green wax, and having these words inscribed
in large letters, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">"Freed by the Great
Band</span></span>." This ticket was a passport securing
his mantle, purse, and person against all further
assaults. Hastening to regain his residence
with all speed, he was assailed at a
narrow turning by three other rascals, who
demanded his purse or his life. The advocate
drew his ticket from his pocket, though he
had no great faith in it as a preservative, and
presented it to the thieves. One of them,
provided with a dark lantern, read it, returned
it, and recommended him to make haste
home, where he at last arrived in safety.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Early in the seventeenth century the Parisian
rogues availed themselves of the regulations
against the use of snuff to pillage the
snuff-takers. As the sale of this article was
forbidden by law to any but grocers and
apothecaries, and as even they could only retail
it to persons provided with the certificate
of a medical man, the annoyance of such restrictions
was loudly complained of. The
rogues, ever ready to profit by circumstances,
opened houses for gaming—at that period almost
a universal vice—where "snuff at discretion"
was a tempting bait to those long
accustomed to a gratification all the more
agreeable because it was forbidden. Here
the snuff-takers were diligently plied with
wine, and then cheated of their money; or, if
too temperate or suspicious to drink to excess,
they were unceremoniously plundered in a
sham quarrel. To such a length was this
practice carried, that an ordinance was at
length issued in 1629, strictly forbidding all
snuff-takers from assembling in public places
or elsewhere, "<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pour satisfaire leur goût</span></span>!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The thieves of the good old times were not
only more numerous in proportion to the population
than they are at present, but were
also distinguished by greater audacity and
cruelty. They had recourse to the most diabolical
ingenuity to subdue the resistance and
to prevent the outcries of their victims. Under
the rule of Henry IV. a band of brigands
arose, who, in the garb, and with the manners
of gentlemen, introduced themselves into
the best houses under the pretext of private
business, and when alone with the master,
demanded his money at the dagger's
point. Some of them made use of a gag—a
contrivance designated at the period the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">poire
d'angoisse</span></span>. This instrument was of a spherical
shape, and pierced all over with small
holes; it was forced into the mouth of the
person intended to be robbed, and upon touching
a spring sharp points protruded from
every hole, at once inflicting the most horrible
anguish, and preventing the sufferer from
uttering a single cry. It could not be withdrawn
but by the use of the proper key,
which contracted the spring. This device
was adopted universally by one savage band,
and occasioned immense misery not only in
Paris but throughout France.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An Italian thief, an enterprising and ingenious
rogue, adopted a singular expedient for
robbing women at their devotions in church.
He placed himself on his knees by the side of
his intended prey, holding in a pair of artificial
hands a book of devotion, to which he
made a show of the most devout attention,
while with his natural hands he cut the watch
or purse-string of his unsuspecting neighbor.
This stratagem, favored by the fashion, then
general, of wearing mantles, met with great
success, and of course soon produced a host
of clumsy imitators, and excited the vigilance
of the police, who at length made so many
seizures of solemn-faced devotees provided
with wooden kid-gloved hands, that it fell into
complete discredit, and was at last abandoned
by the profession.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Cunning as were the rogues of a past age,
they were liable to capture like their modern
successors. A gentleman having resorted to
Paris on business, was hustled one day in the
precincts of the palace, and robbed of his
well-filled purse. Furious at the loss of a
considerable sum, he swore to be avenged.
He procured a clever mechanic, who, under
his directions, contrived a kind of hand-trap
for the pocket, managed in such a manner as
to preclude the possibility of an attempt at
purse-stealing without detection. Having
fixed the instrument in its place, impatient
for the revenge he had promised himself, he
sallied forth to promenade the public walks,
mingled with every group, and stopped from
time to time gazing about him with the air
of a greenhorn. Several days passed before
any thing resulted from his plan; but one
morning, while he was gaping at the portraits
of the kings of France in one of the public
galleries, he finds himself surrounded and
pushed about, precisely as in the former instance;
he feels a hand insinuating itself
gently into the open snare, and hears immediately
the click of the instrument, which assures
him that the delinquent is safely caught.
Taking no notice, he walks on as if nothing
had happened, and resumes his promenade,
drawing after him the thief, whom pain and
shame prevented from making the least effort
to disengage his hand. Occasionally the gentleman
would turn round, and rebuke his unwilling
follower for his importunity, and thus
drew the eyes of the whole crowd upon his
awkward position. At last, pretending to
observe for the first time the stranger's hand
in his pocket, he flies into a violent passion,
accuses him of being a cut-purse, and demands
the sum he had previously lost, without
which he declares the villain shall be
hanged. It would seem that compounding a
felony was nothing in those days; for it is<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page219">[pg 219]</span><a name="Pg219" id="Pg219" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
upon record that the thief, though caught in
the act, was permitted to send a messenger
to his comrades, who advanced the money,
and therewith purchased his liberty.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The people were forbidden to employ particular
materials in the fabrication of their
clothing, to ride in a coach, to decorate their
apartments as they chose, to purchase certain
articles of furniture, and even to give a dinner
party when and in what style they chose.
Under the Valois régime strict limits were
assigned to the expenses of the table, determining
the number of courses of which a
banquet should consist, and that of the dishes
of which each course was to be composed.
Any guest who should fail to denounce an
infraction of the law of which he had been a
witness, was liable to a fine of forty livres;
and officers of justice, who might be present,
were strictly enjoined to quit the tables of
their hosts, and institute immediate proceedings
against them. The rigor of these regulations
extended, even to the kitchen, and the
police had the power of entry at all hours, to
enforce compliance with the statutes.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But it was during the prevalence of an epidemic
that it was least agreeable to live in
France in the good old times. No sooner did
a contagious malady, or one that was supposed
to be so, make its appearance, than the
inhabitants of Paris were all forbidden to remove
from one residence to another, although
their term of tenancy had expired, until the
judge of police had received satisfactory evidence
that the house they desired to leave
had not been affected by the contagion.
When a house was infected, a bundle of straw
fastened to one of the windows warned the
public to avoid all intercourse with the inmates.
At a later period two wooden crosses
were substituted for the straw, one of which
was attached to the front door, and the other
to one of the windows in an upper story.
In 1596 the provost of Paris having learned
that the tenants of some houses infected by
an epidemic which was then making great
ravages, had removed these badges, issued an
ordinance commanding that those who transgressed
in a similar manner again should suffer
the loss of the right hand—a threat which
was found perfectly efficient.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">By an ordinance of 1533, persons recovering
from a contagious malady, together with
their domestics, and all the members of their
families, were forbidden to appear in the
streets for a given period without a white
wand in their hands, to warn the public of
the danger of contact. Three years after the
authorities were yet more severe against the
convalescents, who were ordered to remain
shut up at home for forty days after their
cure; and even when the quarantine had expired,
they were not allowed to appear in the
streets until they had presented to a magistrate
a certificate from the commissary of
their district, attested by a declaration of six
householders, that the forty days had elapsed.
In the preceding century (in 1498) an ordinance
still more extraordinary had been issued.
It was at the coronation of Louis XII.
when a great number of the nobles came to
Paris to take part in the ceremony. The
provost, desiring to guard them from the danger
of infection, published an order that all
persons of both sexes, suffering under certain
specified maladies, should quit the capital in
twenty-four hours, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">under the penalty of being
thrown into the river</span></span>!</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc69" id="toc69"></a>
<a name="pdf70" id="pdf70"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE LEGEND OF THE WEEPING CHAMBER.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From Household Words.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A strange story was once told me by a
Levantine lady of my acquaintance,
which I shall endeavor to relate—as far as I am
able with the necessary abridgments—in her
own words. The circumstances under which
she told it were peculiar. The family had
just been disturbed by the visit of a ghost—a
real ghost, visible, if not palpable. She was
not what may be called superstitious; and
though following with more or less assiduity
the practices of her religion, was afflicted
now and then with a fit of perfect materialism.
I was surprised, therefore, to hear her
relate, with every appearance of profound
faith, the following incidents:—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There is an old house in Beyrout, which,
for many successive years, was inhabited by
a Christian family. It is of great extent,
and was of yore fitted for the dwelling of a
prince. The family had, indeed, in early-times
been very rich; and almost fabulous
accounts are current of the wealth of its
founder, Fadlallah Dahân. He was a merchant;
the owner of ships, the fitter-out of
caravans. The regions of the East and of the
West had been visited by him; and, after
undergoing as many dangers and adventures
as Sinbad, he had returned to spend the latter
days of his life in his native city. He
built, accordingly, a magnificent dwelling,
the courts of which he adorned with marble
fountains, and the chambers with silk divans;
and he was envied on account of his prosperity.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But, in the restlessness of his early years,
he had omitted to marry, and now found
himself near the close of his career without
an heir to inherit his wealth and to perpetuate
his name. This reflection often disturbed
him; yet he was unwilling to take a wife
because he was old. Every now and then, it
is true, he saw men older than he, with fewer
teeth and whiter beards, taking to their bosoms
maidens that bloomed like peaches just
beginning to ripen against a wall; and his
friends, who knew he would give a magnificent
marriage-feast, urged him to do likewise.
Once he looked with pleasure on a
young person of not too tender years, whose
parents purposely presented her to him; but
having asked her in a whisper whether she
would like to marry a withered old gentleman<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page220">[pg 220]</span><a name="Pg220" id="Pg220" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
like himself, she frankly confessed a
preference for his handsome young clerk,
Harma, who earned a hundred piastres a
month. Fadlallah laughed philosophically,
and took care that the young couple should
be married under happy auspices.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One day he was proceeding along the street
gravely and slowly—surrounded by a number
of merchants proud to walk by his side,
and followed by two or three young men,
who pressed near in order to be thought of
the company, and thus establish their credit—when
an old woman espying him, began to
cry out, "Yeh! yeh! this is the man who
has no wife and no child—this is the man
who is going to die and leave his fortune to
be robbed by his servants or confiscated by
the governor! And yet, he has a sagacious
nose"—(the Orientals have observed that
there is wisdom in a nose)—"and a beard as
long as my back! Yeh! yeh! what a wonderful
sight to see!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fadlallah Dahân stopped, and retorted,
smiling: "Yeh! yeh! this is the woman
that blames an old man for not marrying a
young wife. Yeh! yeh! what a wonderful
sight to see!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then the woman replied, "O my lord,
every pig's tail curls not in the same direction,
nor does every maiden admire the passing
quality of youth. If thou wilt, I will bestow
on thee a wife, who will love thee as
thou lovest thyself, and serve thee as the
angels serve Allah. She is more beautiful
than any of the daughters of Beyrout, and
her name is Selima, a name of good augury."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The friends of Fadlallah laughed, as did the
young men who followed in their wake, and
urged him to go and see this peerless beauty,
if it were only for a joke. Accordingly, he
told the woman to lead the way. But she
said he must mount his mule, for they
had to go some distance into the country.
He mounted, and, with a single servant, went
forth from the gates—the woman preceding—and
rode until he reached a village in the
mountains. Here, in a poor little house, he
found Selima; clothed in the very commonest
style, engaged in making divan cushions.
She was a marvellously beautiful girl, and the
heart of the merchant at once began to yearn
towards her; yet he endeavored to restrain
himself, and said, "This beautiful thing is not
for me." But the woman cried out, "Selima,
wilt thou consent to love this old man?"
The girl gazed in his face awhile, and then,
folding her hands across her bosom, said,
"Yes; for there is goodness in his countenance."
Fadlallah wept with joy; and, returning
to the city, announced his approaching
marriage to his friends. According to
custom, they expressed civil surprise to his
face; but, when his back was turned, they
whispered that he was an old fool, and had
been the dupe of a she-adventurer.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The marriage took place with ceremonies
of royal magnificence; and Selima, who passed
unmoved from extreme poverty to abundant
riches, seemed to merit the position of
the greatest lady in Beyrout. Never was
woman more prudent than she. No one ever
knew her previous history, nor that of her
mother. Some said that a life of misery,
perhaps of shame, was before them, when
this unexpected marriage took place. Selima's
gratitude to Fadlallah was unbounded;
and out of gratitude grew love. The merchant
daily offered up thanks for the bright
diamond which had come to shine in his
house.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In due time a child was born; a boy lively
as his mother; and they named him Halil.
With what joy he was received, what festivities
announced the glad intelligence to the
town, may easily be imagined. Selima and
Fadlallah resolved to devote themselves to
his education, and determined that he should
be the most accomplished youth of Bar-er-Shâm.
But a long succession of children followed,
each more beautiful than the former—some
boys, some girls; and every new comer
was received with additional delight and
still grander ceremonies; so that the people
began to say, "Is this a race of sovereigns?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Now, Halil grew up to the age of twelve—still
a charming lad; but the parents always
fully occupied by the last arrival, had not
carried out their project of education. He
was as wild and untamed as a colt, and spent
more of his time in the street than in the
company of his mother; who, by degrees,
began to look upon him with a kind of calm
friendship due to strangers. Fadlallah, as he
took his accustomed walk with his merchant
friends, used from time to time to encounter
a ragged boy fighting in the streets with the
sons of the Jew butcher; but his eyes beginning
to grow dim, he often passed without
recognizing him. One day, however, Halil,
breathless and bleeding, ran up and took refuge
beneath the skirts of his mantle from a
crowd of savage urchins. Fadlallah was
amazed, and said, "O, my son—for I think
thou art my son—what evil hath befallen
thee, and wherefore do I see thee in this
state?" The boy, whose voice was choked
by sobs, looked up into his face, and said,
"Father, I am the son of the richest merchant
of Beyrout, and behold, there is no one
so little cared for as I."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fadlallah's conscience smote him, and he
wiped the boy's bleeding face with the corner
of his silk caftan, and blessed him; and, taking
him by the hand, led him away. The
merchants smiled benignly one to the other,
and, pointing with their thumbs, said, "We
have seen the model youth!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Whilst they laughed and sneered, Fadlallah,
humbled yet resolved, returned to his house,
leading the ragged Halil, and entered his
wife's chamber. Selima was playing with
her seventh child, and teaching it to lisp the
word "Baba"—about the amount of education
which she had found time to bestow on<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page221">[pg 221]</span><a name="Pg221" id="Pg221" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
each of her offspring. When she saw the
plight of her eldest son she frowned, and was
about to scold him; but Fadlallah interposed,
and said, "Wife, speak no harsh words. We
have not done our duty by this boy. May
God forgive us; but we have looked on these
children that have bloomed from thee, more
as playthings than as deposits for which we
are responsible. Halil has become a wild
out-of-doors lad, doubting with some reason
of our love. It is too late to bring him back
to the destiny we had dreamt of; but he
must not be left to grow up thus uncared for.
I have a brother established in Bassora; to
him will I send the lad to learn the arts of
commerce, and to exercise himself in adventure,
as his father did before him. Bestow
thy blessing upon him, Selima (here the good
old man's voice trembled), and may God in
his mercy forgive both thee and me for the
neglect which has made this parting necessary.
I shall know that I am forgiven, if, before
I go down into the tomb, my son return
a wise and sober man; not unmindful that
we gave him life, and forgetting that, until
now, we have given him little else."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Selima laid her seventh child in its cradle
of carved wood, and drew Halil to her
bosom; and Fadlallah knew that she loved
him still, because she kissed his face, regardless
of the blood and dirt that stained it. She
then washed him and dressed him, and gave
him a purse of gold, and handed him over to
his father; who had resolved to send him off
by the caravan that started that very afternoon.
Halil, surprised and made happy by
unwonted caresses, was yet delighted at the
idea of beginning an adventurous life; and
went away, manfully stifling his sobs, and endeavoring
to assume the grave deportment
of a merchant. Selima shed a few tears, and
then, attracted by a crow and a chuckle from
the cradle, began to tickle the infant's soft
double chin, and went on with her interrupted
lesson, "Baba, Baba!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Halil started on his journey, and having
passed through the Valley of Robbers, the
Valley of Lions, and the Valley of Devils—this
is the way in which Orientals localize the
supposed dangers of travelling—arrived at
the good city of Bassora; where his uncle
received him well, and promised to send him,
as supercargo on board the first vessel he dispatched
to the Indian seas. What time was
spent by the caravan upon the road, the narrative
does not state. Travelling is slow
work in the East; but almost immediately
on his arrival in Bassora, Halil was engaged
in a love adventure. If travelling is slow,
the approaches of manhood are rapid. The
youth's curiosity was excited by the extraordinary
care taken to conceal his cousin Miriam
from his sight; and having introduced
himself into her garden, beheld, and, struck
by her wonderful beauty, loved her. With
an Oriental fondness he confessed the truth
to his uncle, who listened with anger and
dismay, and told him that Miriam was betrothed
to the Sultan. Halil perceived the
danger of indulging his passion, and promised
to suppress it; but whilst he played a
prudent part, Miriam's curiosity was also excited,
and she too beheld and loved her cousin.
Bolts and bars cannot keep two such affections
asunder. They met and plighted their
troth and were married secretly, and were
happy. But inevitable discovery came. Miriam
was thrown into a dungeon; and the
unhappy Halil, loaded with chains, was put
on board a vessel, not as supercargo, but as
prisoner, with orders that he should be left
in some distant country.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Meanwhile a dreadful pestilence fell upon
Beyrout, and among the first sufferers was
an eighth little one that had just learned
to say "Baba!" Selima was almost too
astonished to be grieved. It seemed to her
impossible that death should come into her
house, and meddle with the fruits of so much
suffering and love. When they came to take
away the little form which she had so often
fondled, her indignation burst forth, and she
smote the first old woman who stretched out
her rough unsympathetic hand. But a shriek
from her waiting-woman announced that
another victim was singled out; and the
frantic mother rushed like a tigress to defend
the young that yet remained to her. But the
enemy was invisible; and (so the story goes)
all her little ones drooped one by one and
died; so that on the seventh day Selima sat
in her nursery gazing about with stony eyes,
and counting her losses upon her fingers—Iskender,
Selima, Wardy, Fadlallah, Hanna,
Hennenah, Gereges—seven in all. Then she
remembered Halil, and her neglect of him;
and, lifting up her voice, she wept aloud;
and, as the tears rushed fast and hot down
her cheeks, her heart yearned for her absent
boy, and she would have parted with worlds
to have fallen upon his breast—would have
given up her life in return for one word of
pardon and of love.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fadlallah came in to her; and he was now
very old and feeble. His back was bent, and
his transparent hand trembled as it clutched
a cane. A white beard surrounded a still
whiter face; and as he came near his wife,
he held out his hand towards her with an
uncertain gesture, as if the room had been
dark. This world appeared to him but dimly.
"Selima," said he, "the Giver hath
taken. We, too, must go in our turn. Weep,
my love, but weep with moderation, for
those little ones that have gone to sing in the
golden cages of Paradise. There is a heavier
sorrow in my heart. Since my first-born,
Halil, departed for Bassora, I have only
written once to learn intelligence of him.
He was then well, and had been received
with favor by his uncle. We have never
done our duty by that boy." His wife replied,
"Do not reproach me; for I reproach
myself more bitterly than thou canst do.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page222">[pg 222]</span><a name="Pg222" id="Pg222" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Write, then, to thy brother to obtain tidings
of the beloved one. I will make of this chamber
a weeping chamber. It has resounded
with merriment enough. All my children
learned to laugh and to talk here. I will
hang it with black, and erect a tomb in the
midst; and every day I will come and spend
two hours, and weep for those who are gone
and for him who is absent." Fadlallah approved
her design; and they made a weeping
chamber, and lamented together every day
therein. But their letters to Bassora remained
unanswered; and they began to believe
that fate had chosen a solitary tomb for Halil.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One day a woman, dressed in the garb of
the poor, came to the house of Fadlallah with
a boy about twelve years old. When the
merchant saw them he was struck with
amazement, for he beheld in the boy the
likeness of his son Halil; and he called aloud
to Selima, who, when she came, shrieked
with amazement. The woman told her story,
and it appeared that she was Miriam.
Having spent some months in prison, she had
escaped and taken refuge in a forest in the
house of her nurse. Here she had given birth
to a son, whom she had called by his father's
name. When her strength returned, she had
set out as a beggar to travel over the world
in search of her lost husband. Marvellous
were the adventures she underwent, God
protecting her throughout, until she came to
the land of Persia, where she found Halil
working as a slave in the garden of the Governor
of Fars. After a few stolen interviews,
she had again resumed her wanderings to
seek for Fadlallah, that he might redeem his
son with wealth; but had passed several
years upon the road.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Fortune, however, now smiled upon this
unhappy family, and in spite of his age, Fadlallah
set out for Fars. Heaven made the
desert easy, and the road short for him. On
a fine calm evening he entered the gardens
of the governor, and found his son gaily singing
as he trimmed an orange tree. After a
vain attempt to preserve an incognito, the
good old man lifted up his hands, and shouting,
"Halil, my first-born!" fell upon the
breast of the astonished slave. Sweet was
the interview in the orange grove, sweet the
murmured conversation between the strong
young man and the trembling patriarch, until
the perfumed dew of evening fell upon their
heads. Halil's liberty was easily obtained,
and father and son returned in safety to Beyrout.
Then the Weeping Chamber was closed,
and the door walled up; and Fadlallah
and Selima lived happily until age gently did
its work at their appointed times: and Halil
and Miriam inherited the house and the
wealth that had been gathered for them.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The supernatural part of the story remains
to be told. The Weeping Chamber was never
again opened; but every time that a death
was about to occur in the family, a shower of
heavy tear-drops was heard to fall upon its
marble floor, and low wailings came through
the walled doorway. Years, centuries passed
away, and the mystery repeated itself with
unvarying uniformity. The family fell into
poverty, and only occupied a portion of the
house, but invariably before one of its members
sickened unto death, a shower of heavy
drops, as from a thunder-cloud, pattered on
the pavement of the Weeping Chamber, and
was heard distinctly at night through the
whole house. At length the family quitted
the country in search of better fortunes elsewhere,
and the house remained for a long
time uninhabited.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The lady who narrated the story went to
live in the house, and passed some years
without being disturbed; but one night she
was lying awake, and distinctly heard the
warning shower dripping heavily in the
Weeping Chamber. Next day the news came
of her mother's death, and she hastened to
remove to another dwelling. The house has
since been utterly abandoned to rats, mice,
beetles, and an occasional ghost seen sometimes
streaming along the rain-pierced terraces.
No one has ever attempted to violate
the solitude of the sanctuary where Selima
wept for the seven little ones taken to the
grave, and for the absent one whom she had
treated with unmotherly neglect.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc71" id="toc71"></a>
<a name="pdf72" id="pdf72"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE BULL FIGHT OF MADRID.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE CASTILIAN."</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was one of those clear, bright days, peculiar
to a Spanish summer, when the
deep blue skies seem to reflect their warmth
in radiance over the earth; a slumberous influence
hung over the tranquil streets of
Madrid, and although it was still early in the
morning, the fervid rays of the sun gave a
certain indication of the meridian power he
was about to display in a few hours.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Such was the day appropriated for the
splendid and soul-stirring celebration of a
bull-fight; and accordingly, the inhabitants
soon began, by an unusual bustle, to evince
the absorbing interest they are accustomed
to take in this favorite amusement. Before
the hour of nine, the beautiful street of Alcala
was thronged with a promiscuous multitude,
eager to witness the first exhibition of
the morning; the Spanish bull-fight being in
fact composed of two acts, if I may so term
them, the morning and the evening encounters.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On such days, a general cessation of labor
takes place throughout the city, and the
whole population is occupied with speculations
on the approaching festival. On the
morning in question, the inhabitants of Madrid,
the lower classes in particular, attired in
their holiday finery, began at an early hour
to issue from their narrow and obscure dormitories,
and, with tolerably cleanly appearance
and much importance of demeanor, to
take up a position in that famous <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Puerta del
sol</span></span> which, on less momentous occasions,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page223">[pg 223]</span><a name="Pg223" id="Pg223" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
seems destined only as a lounge for all the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">ennuyés</span></span>, news-hunters, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">petit-maitres</span></span> of
Madrid. The Manolos, too, began to congregate
in great numbers, casting around those
terrible glances of recklessness and conscious
courage, which, in the estimation of foreigners,
are the certain prognostics of as many
concealed daggers.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I soon made up my mind to add one to the
vast concourse now on the alert to witness
this grand and terrific spectacle, although, for
many reasons, I prudently resolved to postpone
my share of the entertainment until the
evening.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is at this hour that the higher classes
prefer visiting the arena: a number of the
more desperate <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">amateurs</span></span>, however, regardless
of the influence of a meridian sun, do not
hesitate to present themselves at the morning
exhibitions.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At about four in the afternoon, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Calle
de Alcala</span></span> was, if possible, more crowded than
it had been in the morning. This majestic
street, which commands a full view of the
superb triumphal arch which bears its name,
now presented a most striking and animated
scene: various groups, fancifully contrasted
in dress and deportment, were all hurrying
towards the same spot. Here you might see
the gorgeous equipage of the haughty grandee,
sweeping by in all the imposing consciousness
of pomp and greatness, while carriages
of more humble pretensions were rattling
as briskly, if not as proudly, along the
gay and lively street. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Calesines</span></span>, too,
were seen in great numbers hurrying to the
scene of anticipated pleasure, and diversifying,
by the singularity of their appearance,
and the ringing of small bells, the stately <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cortege</span></span>
of more splendid equipages.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Next, an army of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">majos</span></span> attracted attention
by their fanciful dresses, and the easy swagger
with which they accompanied their <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">morenas</span></span>,
who were not the less conspicuous for
their graceful though somewhat confident
demeanor. They were all, of course, attired
in their peculiar costume, bedizened with
ribbons, and the short saya reaching only to
the middle of the calf, and showing the most
polished ancle and the prettiest foot in the
world. These gay and lively individuals were
picturesquely contrasted with crowds of
monks and friars, of all orders and colors—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">White, black, and gray, with all their trumpery—</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">here and there intermingled with military
idlers, in the uniforms of their several regiments.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Here you might see the rosy and jolly abbate,
ambling along upon a mule, having an
appearance scarcely less clerical than himself,
jostling the less fortunate friar on the back
of the humbler donkey, and the sturdy mendicant,
as he strode along on foot, supported
only by his staff. The streets, and every
avenue leading to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Plaza de los Toros</span></span>,
were lined with noisy vendors of delicious
fruits, who made a grateful display upon their
stalls of the Seville orange and the cooling
water-melon; whilst a number of Valencians
carried about large <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">vasijas</span></span>, or trays of lemonade,
and other refreshments, for the accommodation
of the thirsty pedestrians, who had
no time to squander upon a visit to the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">neveras</span></span>, or ice-houses. The effect of this animated
picture was farther heightened by the
cries of the venders, the harmony of some
neighboring barber's guitar, the continual
jingling of the mules' bells, and the clicking
of castanets.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Amidst this stunning, yet not unpleasing
variety of sounds, we at length reached the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Plaza de los Toros</span></span>, and it was with some difficulty
we obtained places in the stage seats.
A vast concourse of persons of all classes
were already assembled, and I observed with
a smile the effect which the novelty of the
scene had produced upon an English friend,
whom I had, with great difficulty, prevailed
upon to accompany me; having, as he declared,
but little taste for such brutal and
demoralizing exhibitions. He seemed quite
excited, and made some passing observation
relative to the Roman Circus, to which the
present exhibition bore no unapt resemblance.
I directed his attention to many of his countrymen,
as well as other foreigners, who,
after having been quite as clamorous as himself
against the sport, had terminated their
philosophical philippics by becoming constant
visitors both at the morning and afternoon
encounters. We arrived at the scene of action
just in time to witness <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">El despejo</span></span>, or the
clearing of the arena; a ceremony which is
effected by a band of soldiers, who enter the
place and drive every loiterer away, to the
sound of drums and fifes. In a few minutes,
not a single person was to be seen in the
circus; and, consequently, the body of spectators,
thus driven back upon the crowd, gave
rise to various energetic expostulations,
hearty curses, and not a few random cuffs.
The only inconvenience, however, of these
frequent <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">melées</span></span>, was the loss of a few ribbons
and a quantity of hair, of which the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">manolus</span></span>
most assiduously set about easing themselves.
This operation is a source of considerable
amusement to those who stand aloof from the
field of strife. We had been happy in securing
good places, and had nothing to complain of
but the immediate vicinity of an amateur, or
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">aficionado</span></span>, who kept his tongue in continual
motion, and favored his neighbors with a tremendous
display of erudition on the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">tauromachia</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Whilst the immense multitude were beguiling
their impatience in a thousand ways,
and among others by bandying jests—eating
oranges—smoking—whistling—love-making
and quarrelling—the champions of the fète,
namely, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">espadas</span></span>, and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span>, were very piously engaged in prayer
in a chapel contiguous to the circus, it being
customary for combatants to solicit the protection
of the holy Virgin against the tremendous<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page224">[pg 224]</span><a name="Pg224" id="Pg224" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
animal they are about to encounter
before they venture to provoke its ferocity.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While they proceed in their laudable occupation,
we will return to the circus, which
now presented a most striking spectacle. The
corregidor and the corporation of the town
had already taken their seats near the splendid
box fitted up for the use of the king, directly
opposite to the entrance from which
the bull was expected to rush into the arena.
Above this entrance was a platform, occupied
by a band of musicians, who continued at intervals
to mingle their animating strains with
the clamor of the noisy multitude. An officer
of the town now entered the arena,
mounted on a fine charger. He was dressed
in complete sables, and carried in his hand
the staff of office. Attended by alguazils, he
advanced,—saluted the box where the king
was <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">not</span></span>,—and then proceeded to the master
of the ceremonies, from whom he received
the keys of the cells, where the terrible animals
who were to take so conspicuous parts
in the evening spectacle were confined.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At this critical juncture, a breathless silence
pervaded the spectators, who by their
eager looks evinced the absorbing interest
they took in the soul-stirring spectacle.
Anon, a band of martial instruments struck
up;—a general buzz arose on every side, and,
amidst the overwhelming din that prevailed
throughout the circus, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span> and the
rest of their party made their entrance into
the arena. First came the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span>, with
their horses blindfold, wearing enormous
boots to protect them from the blows of the
bull; next paced on the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">espadas</span></span>, or <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">matadores</span></span>,
on foot, attired in rich silk dresses, each wearing
a robe of a different color, together with
ribbons or some other distinctive mark of
favor from his mistress. The procession
closed with a numerous troop of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span>, or
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderilleros</span></span>, a set of young men lightly and
fancifully apparelled, whose business is to
distract the attention of the bull from a fallen
cavalier, and to harass the animal with the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderillas</span></span>. In this splendid troop we perceived
some traces of the ancient spirit of
chivalry, although, strange to say, the favorite
sport of the fine cavaliers of the land is
now confined to the lowest orders. It is only
from the slaughter-house that the bull-fighters
now, for the most part, proceed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The procession moved on, at a slow and
stately pace, amidst strains of music and the
vociferations of the lower classes, many of
whom soon recognized in the heroes of the
fète, some near relation, some dear friend, or
at least, well-known acquaintance, whom
they were desirous of encouraging by their
shouts. The champions having made their
respective obeisances to the royal box and to
the corregidor, retired to the places set apart
for them in the arena.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span>, according to the order of
precedence, ranged themselves in the circus,
close to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">baranda</span></span>, or wooden barrier,
which, though elevated to the height of five
feet, is sometimes scarcely sufficient to prevent
the most furious amongst the bulls from
breaking over it. Suddenly the music ceased—the
silence was intense—the signal is given—the
doors were flung open—and, with one
tremendous burst, forth sprang the bull into
the middle of the circus! It was a fearful
animal; not large, but of that peculiar color
and breed which are accounted the most ferocious.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And the dun hide glows as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe.</div>

<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Upon the forehead of the bull the horns stand close and near,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">From out the broad and wrinkled skull like daggers they appear;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His neck is massy, like the trunk of some old knotted tree,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Whereon the monster's shagged mane like billows curled ye see.</div>

<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">His legs are short, his hams are thick, his hoofs are black as night,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Like a strong flail he holds his tail in the fierceness of his might;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Like something molten out of iron, or hewn forth from the rock,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Harpado of Xarama stands, to bide the Alcayde's shock.<a id="noteref_6" name="noteref_6" href="#note_6"><span class="tei tei-noteref" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">6</span></span></a></div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The appearance of the bull was hailed by
loud acclamations from the multitude; whilst
hats, handkerchiefs, and scarfs fluttered in
the air, in every direction.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The noble animal appeared at first as though
he were undecided how to act, or on whom
to wreak his fierce vengeance. He turned on
every side, and scanned the appalling number
and firmness of his tormentors; gradually
he became more and more excited, till, exasperated
by the clamors of the impatient
multitude, he tore the ground with his hoofs,
tossed his head in proud indignation, and
then stared intently before him, as if to awe
the circus with the lightnings of his angry
eye. Again he lowered his head, and blew
the dust in clouds with the burning breath of
his distended nostrils, and lashed his sides
with his tail, as if to work himself up to the
proper pitch of frenzy; at length, with a sudden
bound, he rushed furiously against the
first <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>. The cavalier received the
charge with perfect coolness and intrepidity,
and having succeeded in planting his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pica</span></span> in
the higher part of the animal's neck, the
theatre rung with acclamations at the strength
and dexterity with which he kept his tremendous
opponent for some moments fixed
to the spot. Smarting with pain, the bull
then retired for a short time; but his rage
prevailing over his fears, he again rushed forward,
and was received by a second <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>.
Less fortunate, however, than his companion,
he was unable to withstand the overwhelming
shock; and, after a fruitless effort to
stem the animal's fury with his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pica</span></span>, it at
length broke, and the bull, with one tremendous
thrust on the horse's breast, overthrew
its rider. Fortunately for the fallen <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>,
he was protected by the bulk of his horse;<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page225">[pg 225]</span><a name="Pg225" id="Pg225" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
and the bull, as it often happens, sated his
fierceness on the helpless animal, whose blood
spouted round the arena, from a wound evidently
mortal. The excitement of the spectators
now became intense; when the bull,
having fully disabled his enemy, advanced toward
the third cavalier. The champion, however,
had penetration enough to perceive that
the bull was of a dangerous kind, and evinced
no particular solicitude to come to closer quarters
with him. He kept, therefore, retreating,
under pretext of gaining an advantageous
position; but the people, who guessed his
real motive, unanimously protested against
such dilatory proceedings. Men and women,
old and young, began to assail the luckless, or
rather, prudent <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>, with a violent storm
of abuse.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">During the whole of this noisy altercation,
our erudite neighbor, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">aficionado</span></span>, had been
very scientifically descanting on the various
points of the combat, to our no small annoyance;
for he could not rest a moment in his
seat, and was continually intercepting our
view. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>, provoked by the bitter
sarcasms lavished upon him by the more
vulgar part of the spectators, now advanced
with an air of determination a little farther
into the arena; but the sagacious bull kept
retreating as his enemy advanced, in order
to render escape more difficult, and his vengeance
certain. At length he rushed on the
cavalier with such fury and overwhelming
force, that both <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span> and horse rolled on
the ground: unluckily, the man not being
very dexterous, could seek no protection
from the horse, but lay exposed to the fury
of his powerful antagonist.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Cries of horror and alarm for the safety of
the unfortunate <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span> were now heard on
every side, and strange to say, those very
persons, who had but just driven him to encounter
the danger, were now the most clamorous
in shouting for protection for him.
The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span> lost no time in applying their art
to extricate their companion, by harassing
the animal on all sides, who was thus compelled
to abandon his prey in order to meet
his new tormentors. Thus the fallen cavalier
was rescued from his jeopardy, whilst his
poor horse, dreadfully gored, ran wildly about
the arena. The bull, as if satisfied with these
feats, now stood tranquilly looking on the
spectators, who filled the air with <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">vivas</span></span> in
praise of his prowess.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The trumpet again sounded the signal for
the second part of the combat, and forthwith
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span> advanced nimbly with their <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderillas</span></span>,
each striving to fix his weapon in the
neck of the animal, as in their hazardous
course he passed under their extended arms.
The smart of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderillas</span></span> tended to goad
the bull to greater fury, and tormented on
every side he bellowed out in agony, and
bounded from place to place, turning first to
one, and then to another of his aggressors.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thus, after he had vented his rage, foaming
at the mouth and flashing fire from his
eyes, the moment arrived when it was deemed
expedient to put an end to his protracted
sufferings, and at a given signal the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span>
retired and made place for the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">prima-espada</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This was Candido, who though arrived at
an advanced age, still retained much of the
strength and agility of his youth, which,
combined with the experience he had acquired
in the game, rendered him a very formidable
opponent. He advanced with a stately
pace, bearing in one hand a piece of scarlet
cloth to entice the animal, and in the other
his sword. Having arrived in front of the
seat of the presiding authorities, he made a
graceful salute, and then performed the same
ceremony before his friends, who hailed him
with many hearty <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">vivas</span></span>; whilst a deadly silence
was observed on the part of the admirers
of his rival Leoncito. Candido proceeded
slowly, and warily towards the bull, endeavoring
to entice him by waving the red cloth.
The animal, however, would not suddenly
rush against his foe; but calmly watched for
the moment when he might find him less
upon his guard.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Candido, with all the skill of a practised
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">matador</span></span>, appeared to guess the sinister intentions
of the bull, and followed his every
movement with an active eye—nay, he seemed
to penetrate into the inmost feelings of
the animal.—Irritated by the defiance, the
bull sprang upon his foe; but was baffled in
his vengeance, for he pierced only the floating
piece of cloth; the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">matador</span></span> very adroitly
turning aside, and plunging his sword into
his flank as he passed. The wound however
was not mortal, and the combat was renewed.
The bull, somewhat intimidated, did not again
charge his adversary; but preferred awaiting
his approach;—after some appropriate evolutions,
Candido at last boldly advanced
towards him, and with a successful thrust
pierced him to the heart. Nothing had been
wanting to complete the success of Candido
but the solitary triumph of retaining his
sword in his hand after the death-blow was
inflicted, this being considered the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">ne plus
ultra</span></span> of the art. The bull had no sooner
fallen to the ground than a set of most beautiful
mules, splendidly caparisoned, and ornamented
with a profusion of ribbons and small
flags, were brought into the circus to convey
from it the lifeless carcass. This operation
was performed amid the stormy sounds of
martial music, and the shouts of the multitude;
the tremendous animal was dragged
from the field, leaving in its progress a long
crimson track upon the scattered sand.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The signal now sounded for a second fight;
the doors were once more thrown open, and
a huge bull rushed forward, and without a
moment's loss ran furiously at the nearest
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picador</span></span>. He was, however, soon sobered,
and smarting with the pain of the first wound
he received, prudently retreated, in no hurry
to taste a like favor from the second cavalier.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page226">[pg 226]</span><a name="Pg226" id="Pg226" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
In vain did the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span> provoke him by advancing
into the arena, he invariably declined
the re-offered combat. The spectators,
impatient at this delay, grew expressively
clamorous, some crying shame! shame! and
others <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">vaca! vaca!</span></span> (poor cow! poor cow!)—but
all these energetic remonstrances were
lost upon the pacific animal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">With much difficulty, and after a pretty
long interval, the three wounds of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pica</span></span>
(according to rule) were at length inflicted;
and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span> came forward to perform their
part. It was here that the same difficulty
arose, for alas! it could not be expected that
the poor bull, who had shown no relish whatever
for the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pica</span></span>, should evince any taste for
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderillas</span></span>. Consequently a great confusion
arose, and a simultaneous call for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">banderillas
de fuego</span></span>, was heard on every side.
This it was expected would prove a stimulus
to the too tranquil temperament of the
animal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Accordingly the furs was planted upon his
neck; but scarcely had the fireworks began
to crack and whiz around his head, than stunned
no doubt by the noise as well as the pain,
he actually turned and fled. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">chulos</span></span> ran
after him, and thus continued <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">nolens volens</span></span>
to thrust their spears into his unresisting carcass,
until it was thought expedient to desist
in order to give him the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">coup de grace</span></span>. Leoncito
the second <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">espada</span></span> then came forward,
and was hailed with joyful acclamations
by his partisans, especially the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">manolas</span></span>,
for he was a young, light-made, dapper man.
It proved however an exceedingly difficult
task to kill the bull according to the rules of
art, owing to the animal's unequivocal disinclination
for the combat. Leoncito was a
brave, daring man; but hardly so well skilled
as Candido. He rushed boldly against the
bull, and strove to inflict upon him a mortal
wound. He missed, however, his aim at the
right place, and the animal began to pour
forth its blood in a stream. This is considered
an enormous fault in the art—and it met
with a becoming storm of groans and hisses.
The bull, agonized by his wounds, ran wildly
about. Leoncito gave him another blow—when
he sat down, and quietly looked around
him, as the wounds were not immediately
mortal. This reposing attitude gave immense
annoyance both to the combatants and the
spectators. Of course it was out of all question
to inflict on so gentle and resigned an
enemy another <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">estocada</span></span>—and yet the public
could not afford to wait the bull's leisure to
die, as it was necessary to continue the sport.
To expedite, therefore, the animal's last moments,
and the progress of public business,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">eachetero</span></span>, a butcher, came forward and
performed his function of inflicting the death-blow
on occasions when, owing to the perversity
of the bull or the clumsiness of the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">matador</span></span>, his final assistance becomes requisite.
Grasping firmly a short sharp dagger,
he by a steady and well directed blow put a
period to the agonies of the animal—applauses
and abuse were then liberally bestowed upon
Leoncito; after which the fight was suffered
to proceed, and the third bull sprang into the
arena. We will not, however, follow the
perils and chances of this encounter. It may
e sufficient to mention, that the sport went
on much upon the same principle as before.
The usual number of horses were killed, good
spanking falls were endured by the combatants,
and the same tumult and confusion prevailed
throughout the circus. The combat
had now lasted three hours, and the shadows
of evening were gradually descending over
the scene. Yet the spectators appeared by
no means satisfied; some even grew clamorous,
and required that a fourth bull should
be brought forward. Amongst these unreasonable
requisitionists, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">aficionado</span></span> particularly
distinguished himself. He was (unhappily
for his neighbors) blessed with most stentorian
lungs, of which he made a liberal use,
upon the most trifling occasion,—no other
bull, however, was produced, and accordingly
the spectators began slowly and discontentedly
to disperse.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The fight being ended, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span> and
the rest of the troop withdrew to the little
chapel, to return thanks for their escape.
However, the veracity expected from an historian
compels me to say, that their evening
prayers were by no means of the same length
as those which had preceded the encounter
of the morning. At the entrance of the chapel
we perceived many a dark-complexioned <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">manola</span></span>—many
a terrible looking, fierce-whiskered,
cigar-smoking <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">majo</span></span>—awaiting the egress
of their friends; who, as soon as their devotions
were concluded, stalked out with a martial
and haughty air to receive the congratulations
of their comrades. Meantime, the
vast concourse of people so lately assembled
together, had gradually dispersed through the
various avenues of the Prado, affording the
beholder a most striking and enlivening picture.
The Prado itself, that beautiful promenade,
which has attracted the attention of
all who have visited Spain, now presented a
most brilliant spectacle: it was crowded with
carriages, as well as with pedestrians, all
pressing to enjoy the coolness of the evening
in that delightful spot. Having strolled a few
times up and down this fashionable promenade,
we retired to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Neverria de Solos</span></span>, contiguous
to the Prado, to take our <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">refresco</span></span>.
To this place, as to many others of the like
nature, the more elegant class of society retire
early in the evening to eat ices, and drink
lemonade and other refreshing beverages.
From hence each person retires to his own
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">tertulia</span></span> for the evening, and thus ends a day
wholly consecrated to pleasure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Bull fights are now daily decreasing, both
in number and splendor of appearance, from
what they were in former times. Either the
Spaniards are losing their relish for such
spectacles, or the scarcity of good <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">picadores</span></span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page227">[pg 227]</span><a name="Pg227" id="Pg227" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">espades</span></span> detracts from the interest which
attaches to them. Not long since, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">matadores</span></span>
were favorites with the public, and were
regarded with considerable interest even by
their superiors. Many singular and gallant
adventures are related of them and ladies of
rank. It was a common custom, no great
while ago, to throw purses of gold to the
combatants, upon the achievement of some
skilful feat. But unhappily the secret of long
purses is lost, and there is but little chance
of a stranger seeing any money thrown away
in Spain at the present time.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The most renowned of the Matadores were
Romero and Pepe-Hillo, the author of a treatise
entitled Tauromachia. The first retired
from the arena full of honors and considerable
wealth. But being desirous of obtaining
for his son a canonship, he was commanded,
in order to obtain that favor from the queen,
Maria Louisa, to re-appear in the arena, on
some grand festival.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Romero joyfully obeyed; but his age and
feebleness were inadequate to cope with the
fearful bull, and he would certainly have
been killed, had not his friends forcibly withdrawn
him from the arena.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The will, however, was taken for the deed,
and his son was accordingly made a canon.
With regard to Pepe-Hillo, like a gallant
general, he met his death in the field of his
exploits. On a certain occasion, contrary to
the opinion of his friends, who knew him to
be suffering from a wound in the hand, he
appeared in the arena. Unhappily he had to
encounter a tremendous animal. The bull
hurled him on high twice; and when the unfortunate
man fell on the ground he was frightfully
gored, and shortly afterwards expired,
amidst the most excruciating torments.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc73" id="toc73"></a>
<a name="pdf74" id="pdf74"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE LADY AND THE FLOWER.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY G. P. R. JAMES, ESQ.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">There be of British arms and deeds,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Who sing in noble strain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of Poictiers' field, and Agincourt,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And Cressy's bloody plain.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">High tales of merry England,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Full often have been told,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For never wanted bard to sing</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The actions of the bold.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But now I tune another string,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To try my minstrel power,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">My story's of a gallant knight,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A lady, and a flower.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The noble sun that shines on all,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The little or the great,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As bright on cottage doorway small,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">As on the castle gate,</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Came pouring over fair Guienne</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">From the far eastern sea;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And glistened on the broad Garonne,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And slept on Blancford lea.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The morn was up, the morn was bright,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">In southern summer's rays,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Nature caroll'd in the light,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And sung her Maker's praise.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fair Blancford, thou art always fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">With many a shady dell,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And bland variety and change,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Of forest and of fell.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But Blancford on that morn was gay,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">With many a pennon bright,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And glittering arms and panoply</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Shone in the morning light.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For good Prince Edward, England's pride,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Now lay in Blancford's towers,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And weary sickness had consumed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The hero's winter hours.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But now that brighter hopes had come,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">With summer's brighter ray,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He called his gallant knights around,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To spend a festal day.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With tournament and revelry,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To pass away the hours,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And win fair Mary from her sire,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> The Lord of Blancford's towers.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But why fair Mary's brow was sad</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">None in the castle knew,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor why she watched one garden bed,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em"> Where none but wild pinks grew.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Some said that seven nights before</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A page had sped away,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To where Lord Clifford with his power,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">On Touraine's frontier lay.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To Blancford no Lord Clifford came,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And many a tale was told,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For well 'twas known that he had sought,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Fair Mary's love of old.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And some there said Lord Clifford's love</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Had cooled at Mary's pride,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And some there said that other vows</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">His heart inconstant tied.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Foul slander, ready still to soil,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">All that is bright and fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With more than Time's destructiveness,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Who never learned to spare.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The morn was bright, but posts had come,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Bringing no tidings fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For knit was Edward's royal brow,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And full of thoughtful care.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The lists were set, the parted sun</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Shone equal on the plain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And many a knight there manfully</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Strove fresh applause to gain.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Sir Henry Talbot, and Sir Guy</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Of Brackenbury, he</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Who slew the giant Iron-arm,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">On Cressy's famous lea,</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Were counted best, and claimed the Prince</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To give the sign that they</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Might run the tilt, and one receive</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The honors of the day.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Speed, knights, perhaps those arms that shine</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">In peace," prince Edward said,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Before a se'nnight pass, may well,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">In Gallic blood be died.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"For here we learn that hostile bands,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Have gathered in Touraine,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Clifford, with his little troop,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Are prisoners or slain.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"For with five hundred spears, how bold</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Soe'er his courage show,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He never could withstand the shock,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Of such a host of foe."</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fair Mary spoke not, but the blood</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Fled truant from her cheek,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And left it pale, as when day leaves</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Some mountain's snowy peak.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But then there camp the cry of horse,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The east lea pricking o'er,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And to the lists a weary page</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A tattered pennon bore.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Fast came a knight with blood-stained arms,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And dusty panoply,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And beaver down, and armed lance,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">In chivalric array.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">No crest, no arms, no gay device,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Upon his shield he wore,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But a small knot beside his plume,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Of plain wild pinks he bore.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For love, for love and chivalry,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Lord Clifford rides the plain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And foul he lies who dares to say,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">His honor e'er know stain.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Mary's cheek 'gan blushing bright,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And Mary's heart beat high,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Mary's breath that fear oppressed</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Came in a long glad sigh.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Straight to the Prince the knight he rode,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">"I claim these lists," he cried,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Though late into the field I come,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">My suit be not denied;</div>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page228">[pg 228]</span><a name="Pg228" id="Pg228" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"For we have fought beside the Loire,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And stained our arms in blood;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Not ever lost one step of ground,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">So long as rebels stood.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Hemmed in, I one time never thought</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To die in British land,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Or see my noble prince again,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Or kiss his royal hand.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"But well fought every gallant squire,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And well fought every knight;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And rebels have been taught to feel</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">The force of British might.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"And now in humble terms they sue,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">To know thy high command,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And here stand I these lists to claim,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">For a fair lady's hand.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"For Mary's love, and chivalry,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">I dare the world to fight,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And foul and bitterly he lies,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Who dares deny my right"</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"No, no, brave Clifford," Edward said,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">"No lists to-day for thee,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Thy gallant deeds beside the Loire,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Well prove thy chivalry.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Sir Guy, Sir Henry, and the rest,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Have well acquit their arms,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">But Edward's thanks are Clifford's due,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">As well as Mary's charms."</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"My lord, you are her sire," he said,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">"Give kind consent and free,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And who denies our Clifford's right,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Shall ride a tilt with me."</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Gay spake the prince, gay laughed the throng,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And Mary said not nay,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And bright with smile, and dance, and song,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Went down the festal day.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And when Lord Clifford to the board</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Led down his Mary fair,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">A knot of pinks was in his cap,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">A knot was in her hair.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">For it had been their sign of love,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And loved by them was still,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Till death came quietly on their heads,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And bowed them to his will.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And now, though years have passed away,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And all that years have seen,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And Clifford's deeds and Mary's charms,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Are as they ne'er had been,</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Some wind, as if in memory</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Has borne the seeds on high,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To deck the ruin's crumbling wall,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">And catch the passing eye.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">It tells a tale to those who hear;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">For beauty, strength, and power,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Are but the idols of a day,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">More short-lived than a flower.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Joy on, joy on, then, while ye may,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Nor waste the moments dear;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor give yourself a cause to sigh,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">Nor teach to shed a tear.</div>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc75" id="toc75"></a>
<a name="pdf76" id="pdf76"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">AN OLD MAID'S FIRST LOVE.</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From Chamber's Edinburgh Journal.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I went once to the south of France for
my health; and being recommended to
choose the neighborhood of Avignon, took
my place, I scarcely know why, in the diligence
all the way from Paris. By this proceeding
I missed the steam-voyage down the
Rhone, but fell in with some very pleasant
people, about whom I am going to speak. I
travelled in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">intérieur</span></span>, and from Lyon
had no one for companion but a fussy little
lady, of a certain age, who had a large basket,
a parrot in a cage, a little lapdog, a bandbox,
a huge blue umbrella, which she could
never succeed in stowing any where, and a
moth-eaten muff. In my valetudinarian state
I was not pleased with this inroad—especially
as the little lady had a thin, pinched-up
face, and obstinately looked out of the window,
while she popped about the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">intérieur</span></span>
as if she had just taken lodgings and was
putting them in order, throwing me every
now and then some gracious apology in a not
unpleasant voice. "Mince as you please,
madam," thought I; "you are a bore." I
am sorry to add that I was very unaccommodating,
gave no assistance in the stowing
away of the umbrella, and when Fanfreluche
came and placed his silken paws upon my
knees, pushed him away very rudely. The
little old maid—it was evident this was her
quality—apologized for her dog as she had
done for herself, and went on arranging her
furniture—an operation not completed before
we got to St. Saphorin.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">For some hours a perfect silence was preserved,
although my companion several times
gave a short dry cough, as if about to make
an observation. At length, the digestion of
a hurried dinner being probably completed,
I felt all of a sudden quite bland and sociable,
and began to be mightily ashamed of myself.
"Decidedly," thought I, "I must give this
poor woman the benefit of my conversation."
So I spoke, very likely with that self-satisfied
air assumed sometimes by men accustomed
to be well received. To my great vexation
the old maid had by this time taken offence,
and answered in a very stiff and reserved
manner. Now the whole absurdity of my
conduct was evident to me, and I determined
to make amends. Being naturally of a diplomatic
turn, I kept quiet for awhile, and then
began to make advances to Fanfreluche. The
poor animal bore no malice, and I won his
heart by stroking his long ears. Then I gave
a piece of sugar to the parrot; and having
thus effected a practicable breach, took the
citadel by storm by pointing out a more commodious
way of arranging the great blue umbrella.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We were capital friends thenceforward;
and I soon knew the history of Mlle. Nathalie
Bernard by heart. A mightily uninteresting
history it was to all but herself; so I
shall not repeat it: suffice to say, that she
had lived long on her little income, as she
called it, at Lyon, and was now on her way
to Avignon, where a very important object
called her. This was no other than to save
her niece Marie from a distasteful marriage,
which her parents, very good people, but
dazzled by the wealth of the unamiable suitor,
wished to bring about.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And have you," said I, "any reasonable
hope of succeeding in your mission?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Parbleu!</span></span>" replied the old maid, "I have
composed a little speech on ill-assorted
unions, which I am sure will melt the hearts
of my sister and my brother-in-law; and if
that does not succeed—why, I will make love
to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">futur</span></span> myself, and whisper in his ear that
a comfortable little income available at once,
and a willing old maid, are better than a
cross-grained damsel with expectations only.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page229">[pg 229]</span><a name="Pg229" id="Pg229" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
You see I am resolved to make any sacrifice
to effect my object."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I laughed at the old maid's disinterestedness,
which was perhaps greater than at first
appeared. At least she assured me that she
had refused several respectable offers, simply
because she liked the independence of a single
life; and that if she had remained single
to that age, it was a sign that marriage had
nothing attractive for her in itself. We discussed
the point learnedly as the diligence
rolled; and what with the original turn of
my companion's mind, the sportive disposition
of Fanfreluche, and the occasional disjointed
soliloquies of Coco, the parrot, our
time passed very pleasantly. When night
came Mlle. Nathalie ensconced herself in the
corner behind her parcels and animals, and
endeavored to sleep; but the jolting of the
diligence, and her own lively imagination,
wakened her every five minutes; and I had
each time to give her a solemn assurance, on
my word of honor as a gentleman, that there
was no particular danger of our being upset
into the Rhone.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We were ascending a steep hill next day;
both had got out to walk. I have omitted
to note that it was autumn. Trees and fields
were touched by the golden fingers of the
season. The prospect was wide, but I forget
the precise locality. On the opposite side of
the Rhone, which rolled its rapid current in
a deepening valley to our right, rose a range
of hills, covered with fields that sloped wonderfully,
and sometimes gave place to precipices
or wood-lined declivities. Here and
there the ruins of some old castle—reminiscences
of feudal times—rose amid lofty crags,
and traced their jagged outline against the
deep blue sky of Provence. Nathalie became
almost sentimental as she gazed around on
this beautiful scene.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We had climbed about half of the hill: the
diligence was a little way behind: the five
horses were stamping and striking fire from
the pavement as they struggled up with the
ponderous vehicle: the other passengers had
lingered in the rear with the conductor, who
had pointed out a little <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">auberge</span></span> among some
trees. We here saw a man preceding us upon
the road carrying a little bundle at the
end of a stick over his shoulder: he seemed
to advance painfully. Our attention was attracted—I
scarcely knew why. He paused a
moment—then went on with an uncertain
step—paused again, staggered forward, and
fell on his face just as we came up. Mlle.
Nathalie, with a presence of mind that surprised
me, had her smelling-bottle out in an
instant, and was soon engaged in restoring
the unfortunate traveller to consciousness. I
assisted as well as I was able, and trust that
my good-will may atone for my awkardness.
Nathalie did every thing; and, just as the
diligence reached us, was gazing with delight
on the languid opening of a pair of as fine
eyes as I have ever seen, and supporting in
her lap a head covered with beautiful curls.
Even at that moment, as I afterwards remembered,
she looked upon the young man
as a thing over which she had acquired a right
of property. "He is going our way," said
she: "let us lift him into the diligence."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A beggarly Parisian; yo, yo!" quoth the
postilion as he passed, clacking his long whip.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Who will answer for his fare?" inquired
the conductor.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I will," replied Nathalie, taking the words
out of my mouth.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In a few minutes the young man, who looked
bewildered and could not speak, was safely
stowed among Nathalie's other parcels;
and the crest of the hill being gained, we began
rolling rapidly down a steep descent.
The little old maid, though in a perfect ecstasy
of delight—the incident evidently appeared
to her quite an adventure—behaved
with remarkable prudence. While I was
puzzling my head to guess by what disease
this poor young man had been attacked, she
was getting ready the remedies that appeared
to her the most appropriate, in the shape
of some excellent cakes and a bottle of good
wine, which she fished out of her huge basket.
Her <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">protégé</span></span>, made tame by hunger, allowed
himself to be treated like a child. First
she gave him a very small sip of Burgundy,
then a diminutive fragment of cake; and
then another sip and another piece of cake—insisting
on his eating very slowly. Being
perfectly useless, I looked quietly on, and
smiled to see the suhmissiveness with which
this fine, handsome fellow allowed himself to
be fed by the fussy old maid, and how he
kept his eyes fixed upon her with an expression
of wondering admiration.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Before we arrived at Avignon we knew
the history of the young man. He was an
artist, who had spent several years studying
in Paris, without friends, without resources,
except a miserable pittance which his mother,
a poor peasant woman living in a village not
far from Aix, had managed to send him. At
first he had been upheld by hope; and although
he knew that his mother not only denied
herself necessaries, but borrowed money
to support him, he was consoled by the idea
that the time would come when, by the efforts
of his genius, he would be able to repay
every thing with the accumulated interest
which affection alone would calculate. But
his expenses necessarily increased, and no receipts
came to meet them. He was compelled
to apply to his mother for further assistance.
The answer was one word—"impossible."
Then he endeavored calmly to examine
his position, came to the conclusion that
for several years more he must be a burden
to his mother if he obstinately pursued his
career, and that she must be utterly ruined
to insure his success. So he gave up his art,
sold every thing he had to pay part of his
debts, and set out on foot to return to big
village and become a peasant, as his father<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page230">[pg 230]</span><a name="Pg230" id="Pg230" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
had been before him. The little money he
had taken with him was gone by the time he
reached Lyon. He had passed through that
city without stopping, and for more than
two days, almost for two nights, had incessantly
pursued his journey, without rest and
without food, until he had reached the spot
where, exhausted with fatigue and hunger,
he had fallen, perhaps to perish had we not
been there to assist him.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nathalie listened with eager attention to
this narrative, told with a frankness which
our sympathy excited. Now and then she
gave a convulsive start, or checked a hysterical
sob, and at last fairly burst into tears. I
was interested as well as she, but retained
more calmness to observe how moral beauty
almost vainly straggled to appear through the
insignificant features of this admirable woman.
Her little eyes, reddened with weeping;
her pinched-up nose, blooming at the
point; her thin lips, probably accustomed to
sarcasm; her cheeks, with a leaded citron
hue; her hair that forked up in unmanageable
curls—all combined to obscure the exquisite
expression of respect and sympathy,
perhaps already of love, sparkling from her
kindled soul, that could just be made out by
an attentive eye. At length, however, she
became for a moment perfectly beautiful, as,
when the young painter had finished his story,
with an expression that showed how bitterly
he regretted his abandoned art, she took
both his hands in hers, and exclaimed: "No,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">mon enfant</span></span>, you shall not be thus disappointed.
Your genius"—she already took it for
granted he had genius—"shall have an opportunity
for development. Your mother cannot
do what is necessary—she has played her
part. I will be a—second mother to you, in
return f«r the little affection you can bestow
on me without ingratitude to her to whom
you owe your life."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My life has to be paid for twice," said he,
kissing her hand. Nathalie could not help
looking round proudly to me. It was so flattering
to receive the gallant attentions of so
handsome a young man, that I think she
tried to forget how she had bought them.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the exuberance of her hospitality, the
little old maid invited both Claude Richer
and myself to spend some time in the large
farmhouse of her brother-in-law. I declined,
with a promise to be a frequent visitor; but
Claude, who was rather commanded than
asked, could do nothing but accept. I left
them at the diligence office, and saw them
walk away, the little Nathalie affecting to
support her feeble companion. For the honor
of human nature let me add, that the conductor
said nothing about the fare. "It
would have been indelicate," he said to me,
"to remind Mlle. Nathalie of her promise in
the young man's presence. I know her well;
and she will pay me at a future time. At
any rate I must show that there is a heart
under this waistcoat." So saying, the conductor
thumped his breast with simple admiration
of his own humanity, and went away,
after recommending me to the Café de Paris—indeed
and excellent house.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I shall say nothing of a variety of little incidents
that occurred to me at Avignon, nor
about my studies on the history of the popes
who resided there. I must reserve myself
entirely for the development of Nathalie's
romance, which I could not follow step by
step, but the chief features of which I was
enabled to catch during a series of visits I
paid to the farmhouse. Nathalie herself was
very communicative to me at first, and scarcely
deigned to conceal her sentiments. By degrees,
however, as the catastrophe approached,
she became more and more reserved; and
I had to learn from others, or to guess the
part she played.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The farmhouse was situated on the other
side of the river, in a small plain, fertile and
well wooded. Old Cossu, the owner, was a
fine jolly fellow, but evidently a little sharp
in money matters. I was surprised at first
that he received the visit of Claude favorably;
but when it came out that a good part
of his capital belonged to Nathalie, every circumstance
of deference to her was explained.
Mère Cossu was not a very remarkable personage;
unless it be remarkable that she entertained
the most profound veneration for
her husband, quoted his commonest sayings
as witticisms, and was ready to laugh herself
into convulsions if he sneezed louder than
usual. Marie was a charming little person;
perhaps a little too demure in her manners,
considering her wicked black eyes. She
was soon very friendly with Claude and me,
but seemed to prefer passing her time in
whispered conversations with Nathalie. I
was let into the secret that their conversation
turned principally on the means of getting
rid of the husband-elect—a great lubberly
fellow, who lived some leagues off, and
whose red face shone over the garden-gate,
in company with a huge nosegay, regularly
every Sunday morning. In spite of the complying
temper of old Cossu in other respects
when Nathalie gave her advice, he seemed
obstinately bent on choosing his own son-in-law.
Parents are oftener correct than romancers
will allow, in their negative opinions
on this delicate subject, but I cannot say as
much for them when they undertake to be
affirmative.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I soon observed that Nathalie was not so
entirely devoted to the accomplishment of
the object for which she had undertaken her
journey as she had promised; and, above all,
that she spoke no more of the disinterested
sacrifice of herself as a substitute for Marie.
I maliciously alluded to this subject in one of
our private confabulations, and Nathalie, instead
of being offended, frankly answered
that she could not make big Paul Boneau
happy and assist Claude in his studies at the
same time. "I have now," she said, "an<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page231">[pg 231]</span><a name="Pg231" id="Pg231" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
occupation for the rest of my life—namely,
to develop this genius, of which France will
one day be proud; and I shall devote myself
to it unremittingly."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Come, Nathalie," replied I, taking her
arm in mine as we crossed the poplar-meadow,
"have you no hope of a reward?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I understand," quoth she frankly; "and
I will not play at cross-purposes with you.
If this young man really loves his art, and
his art alone, as he pretends, could he do
better than reward me—as you call it—for
my assistance? The word has a cruel signification,
but you did not mean it unkindly."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I looked at her wan, sallow countenance,
that had begun for some days to wear an expression
of painful anxiety. At that moment
I saw over a hedge—but she could not—Claude
and Marie walking in a neighboring
field, and pausing now and then to bend their
heads very close together in admiration of
some very common flower. "Poor old maid,"
thought I, "you will have no reward save the
consciousness of your own pure intentions."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The minute development of this drama
without dramatic scenes would perhaps be
more instructive than any elaborate analysis
of human passions in general; but it would
require a volume, and I can only here give a
mere summary. Nathalie, in whom alone I
felt particularly interested, soon found that,
she had deceived herself as to the nature of
her sentiments for Claude—that instead of
regarding him with almost maternal solicitude,
she loved him with an intensity that is
the peculiar characteristic of passions awakened
late in life, when the common consolation
is inadmissible—"after all, I may find
better." This was her last, her only chance
of a happiness, which she had declared to
me she had never dreamed of, but which in
reality she had only declined because it did
not present itself to her under all the conditions
required by her refined and sensitive
mind. Claude, who was an excellent fellow,
but incapable of comprehending her or sacrificing
himself, never swerved from grateful
deference to her; but I could observe, that
as the state of her feelings became more apparent,
he took greater care to mark the
character of his sentiments for her, and to
insist with some affectation on the depth of
his filial affection. Nathalie's eyes were often
red with tears—a fact which Claude did not
choose perhaps to notice, for fear of an explanation.
Marie, on the contrary, became more
blooming every day, while her eloquent eyes
were still more assiduously bent upon the
ground. It was evident to me that she and
Claude understood one another perfectly
well.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At length the same thing became evident
to Nathalie. How the revelation was
made to her I do not know; but sudden
it must have been, for I met her one
day in the poplar-field, walking hurriedly
along with an extraordinary expression of
despair in her countenance. I know not
why, but the thought at once occurred to me
that the Rhone ran rapid and deep not far
off, and I threw myself across her path. She
started like a guilty thing, but did not resist
when I took her hand and led her back slowly
towards the farmhouse. We had nearly
reached it in silence when she suddenly
stopped, and bursting into tears turned away
into a by-lane where was a little bench under
an elm. Here she sat down and sobbed for
a long time, while I stood by. At length she
raised her head and asked me: "Do morality
and religion require self-sacrifice even to
the end—even to making half a life a desert,
even to heart-breaking, even unto death?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It scarcely belongs to a selfish mortal to
counsel such virtue," I replied; "but it is
because it is exercised here and there, now
and then, once in a hundred years, that man
can claim some affinity with the divine
nature."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A smile of ineffable sweetness played about
the poor old girl's lips. She wiped her eyes,
and began talking of the changing aspect of
the season, and how the trees day by day
more rapidly shed their leaves, and how the
Rhone had swelled within its ample bed, and
of various topics apparently unconnected
with her frame of mind, but all indicating
that she felt the winter was coming—a long
and dreary winter for her. At this moment
Fanfreluche, which had missed her, came
down the lane, barking with fierce joy; and
she took the poor little beast in her arms,
and exhaled the last bitter feeling that tormented
her in these words: "Thou at least
lovest me—because I have fed thee!" In her
humility she seemed now to believe that her
only claim to love was her charity; and that
even this claim was not recognized except by
a dog!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I was not admitted to the secret of the
family conclave that took place, but learned
simply that Nathalie pleaded with feverish
energy the love that had grown up between
Marie and Claude as an insuperable bar to
the proposed marriage between Paul Boneau
and her niece. Matters were arranged by
means of large sacrifices on the part of the
heroic maid. Paul's face ceased to beam over
the garden-gate on a Sunday morning; and
by degrees the news got abroad that Marie
was betrothed to the young artist. One day
a decent old woman in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">sabots</span></span> came to the
farmhouse: it was Claude's mother, who had
walked from Aix to see him. It was arranged
that Claude should pursue his studies a year
longer, and then marry. Whether any explanation
took place I do not know; but I
observed that the young man sometimes
looked with the same expression of wondering
admiration I had observed in the diligence
at the little Nathalie—more citron-hued
than ever. At length she unhooked the
cage of Coco, the parrot, took Faufreluche
under one arm and her blue umbrella under<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page232">[pg 232]</span><a name="Pg232" id="Pg232" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the other, and went away in company with
the whole family, myself included, every one
carrying a parcel or a basket to the diligence
office. What a party that was! Every one
was in tears except Nathalie. She bore up
manfully, if I may use the word; laughed,
and actually joked; but just as I handed
Coco in, her factitious courage yielded, and
she burst into an agony of grief. With officious
zeal I kept at the window until the diligence
gave a lurch and started; and then
turning round I looked at Claude and Marie,
who were already mingling their eyes in selfish
forgetfulness of their benefactress, and
said solemnly: "There goes the best woman
ever created for this unworthy earth." The
artist, who, for an ordinary man, did not lack
sentiment, took my hand and said: "Sir, I
will quarrel with any man who says less of
that angel than you have done."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The marriage was brought about in less
time than had been agreed upon. Nathalie
of course did not come; but she sent some
presents and a pleasant letter of congratulation,
in which she called herself "an inveterate
old maid." About a year afterwards I
passed through Lyon and saw her. She was
still very yellow, and more than ever attentive
to Fanfreluche and Coco. I even thought
she devoted herself too much to the service of
these two troublesome pets, to say nothing of a
huge cat which she had added to her menagerie,
as a kind of hieroglyphic of her condition.
"How fare the married couple?" cried
she, tossing up her cork-screw curls. "Still
cooing and billing?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Mademoiselle," said I, "they are getting
on pretty well. Claude, finding the historic
pencil not lucrative, has taken to portrait-painting;
and being no longer an enthusiastic
artist, talks even of adopting the more expeditious
method of the Daguerreotype. In the
meantime, half the tradesmen of Avignon, to
say nothing of Aix, have bespoken caricatures
of themselves by his hand. Marie
makes a tolerable wife, but has a terrible will
of her own, and is feared as well as loved."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nathalie tried to laugh; but the memory of
her old illusions coming over her, she leaned
down towards the cat she was nursing, and
sparkling tears fell upon its glossy fur.</p>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc77" id="toc77"></a>
<a name="pdf78" id="pdf78"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">MADEMOISELLE DE CAMARGO.</span></h1>

<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">From advance sheets of a capital book entitled "Men and
Women of the XIXth Century, by Argene Houssaye,"
in press by Redfield.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo almost
came into the world dancing. It is related
that Gritry, when he was scarcely four
years of age, had an idea of musical tunes.
Mademoiselle de Camargo danced at a much
earlier age. She was still in arms when the
combined airs of a violin and a hautboy
caught her ear. She jumped about full of life,
and during the whole time that the music was
playing, she danced, there is no other word
for it, keeping time with great delight. It
must be stated that she was of Spanish origin.
She was born at Brussels, the 15th of April,
1710, of a noble family, that had supplied
several cardinals to the sacred college, and is
of considerable distinction in Spanish history,
both ecclesiastical and national. Her name
was Marianne. Her mother had danced, but
with the ladies of the court, for her own
pleasure, and not for that of others. Her
father, Ferdinand de Cupis de Camargo, was
a frank Spanish noble, that is to say he was
poor; he lived at Brussels, upon the crumbs
of the table of the Prince de Ligne, without
counting the debts he made. His family,
which was quite numerous, was brought up
by the grace of God; the father frequented
the tavern, trusting to the truth that there is
a God that rules over children!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Marianne was so pretty that the Princess
de Ligne used to call her her fairy daughter.
Light as a bird, she used to spring into the
elms, and jump from branch to branch. No
fawn in its morning gayety had more capricious
and easy movements; no deer
wounded by the huntsman ever sprang with
more force and grace. When she was ten
years old, the Princess de Ligne thought that
this pretty wonder belonged of right to Paris,
the city of wonders, Paris, where the opera
was then displaying its thousand and thousand
enchantments. It was decided that
Mademoiselle de Camargo should be a dancing-girl
at the opera. Her father objected
strenuously: "Dancing-girl! the daughter
of a gentleman, a grandee of Spain!"—"Goddess
of dance, if you please," said the
Princess of Ligne, in order to quiet him. He
resigned himself to taking a journey to
Paris in the prince's carriage. He arrived in
the style of a lord at the house of Mademoiselle
Prévost, whom the poets of the day
celebrated under the name of Terpsichore.
She consented to give lessons to Marianne de
Camargo. Three months after his departure,
M. de Camargo returned to Brussels, with the
air of a conqueror. Mademoiselle de Prévost
had predicted that his daughter would be his
glory and his fortune.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After having danced at a fête given by the
Prince de Ligne, Marianne de Camargo made
her first appearance at the Brussels theatre,
where she reigned for three years as first
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">danseuse</span></span>. Her true theatre was not there;
in spite of her triumph at Brussels, her imagination
always carried her to Paris; notwithstanding
when she quitted Brussels she
went to Rouen. Finally, after a long residence
in that city, she was permitted to make her
first appearance at the opera. It was on the
5th of May, 1726, for the famous day of her
debût has not been forgotten, that she appeared
with all the brilliancy of sixteen upon
the first stage in the world. Mademoiselle
Prévost, already jealous, from a presentiment
perhaps, had advised her to make her first
appearance in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Characters of the Dance</span></span>,
a step almost impossible, which the most
celebrated dancers hardly had dared to attemp,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page233">[pg 233]</span><a name="Pg233" id="Pg233" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
at the height even of their reputation.
Mademoiselle de Camargo, who danced like a
fairy, surpassed all her predecessors; her triumph
was so brilliant that on the next day
all the fashions took their name after her:
hair <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">à la Camargo</span></span>, dresses <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">à la Camargo</span></span>,
sleeves <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">à la Camargo</span></span>. All the ladies of the
court imitated her grace; there were not a
few that would have liked to have copied her
face!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I have not told all yet: Mademoiselle de
Camargo was made by love and for love.
She was beautiful and pretty at the same
time. There could be nothing so sweet and
impassioned as her dark eyes, nothing so enchanting
as her sweet smile! Lancret, Pater,
J. B. Vanloo, all the painters that were then
celebrated, tried to portray her charming face.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On the second night of Mademoiselle de
Camargo's appearance on the stage, there were
twenty duels and quarrels without end at the
door of the opera; every one wanted to get
in. Mademoiselle Prévost, alarmed at such
a triumph, intrigued with such success that
Mademoiselle de Camargo was soon forced to
fall back to the position of a mere <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">figurante</span></span>.
She and her admirers had reason to be indignant.
She was obliged to resign herself to
dancing unobserved with the company. But
she was not long in avenging herself with effect.
One day, while she was dancing with
a group of demons, Demoulins, called the
devil, did not make his appearance to dance
his solo, when the musicians had struck up,
expecting his entrance. A sudden inspiration
seizes Mademoiselle de Camargo; she leaves
the other <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">figurantes</span></span>, she springs forward to
the middle of the stage, and improvises Demoulins's
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pas de seul</span></span>, but with more effect
and capricious variety. Applause re-echoed
throughout the theatre. Mademoiselle de
Prévost swore that she would ruin her youthful
rival; but it was too late. Terpsichore
was dethroned. Mademoiselle de Camargo
was crowned on that day queen of the opera,
absolute queen, whose power was unlimited!
She was the first who dared to make the discovery
that her petticoats were too long.
Here I will let Grimm have his say: "This
useful invention, which puts the amateur in
the way of forming an intelligent judgment
of the legs of a dancing-girl, was thought at
that time to be the cause of a dangerous
schism. The Jansenists of the pit exclaimed
heresy, scandal; and were opposed to the
shortened petticoats. The Molinists, on the
contrary, held that this innovation was in
character with the spirit of the primitive
church, which was opposed to the sight of
pirouettes and pigeon-wings, embarrassed by
the length of a petticoat. The Sorbonne of
the opera had for a long time great trouble
in establishing the wholesome doctrine on
this point of discipline, which so much divided
the faithful."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Monsieur Ferdinand de Camargo grew old
with a severe anxiety about the virtue and
the salary of his daughter: he only preserved
the salary. Intoxicated with her triumph,
Mademoiselle de Camargo listened too willingly
to all the lords of the court that frequented
the company of the actresses behind
the scenes; it would have been necessary for
the king to appoint an historiographer, in
order to record all the passions of this <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">danseuse</span></span>.
There was a time when all the world
was in love with her. Every one swore by
Camargo; every one sang of Camargo;
every one dreamed about Camargo. The
madrigals of Voltaire and of the gallant
poets of that gallant era are not forgotten.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">However, the glory of Mademoiselle de
Camargo was extinguished by degrees. Like
fashion that had patronized her, she passed
away by degrees, never to return. When
she insisted upon retiring, although she was
only forty years of age, no one thought of
preventing her: she was hardly regretted.
There was no inquiry made as to whither
she had gone; she was only spoken of at
rare intervals, and then she was only alluded
to as a memory of the past. She had become
something of a devotee, and very charitable.
She knew by name all the poor in
her neighborhood. She occasionally was
visited by some of the notabilities of a past
day, forgotten like herself.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Amusements of the Heart and Mind</span></span>,
a collection designed, as is well known, to
form the mind and the heart, Mademoiselle
de Camargo is charged with having had a
thousand and more lovers! Without giving
the lie to this accusation, can I not prove it
false by relating, in all its simplicity, a fact
which proves a profound passion on her part?
A pretty woman may dance at the opera,
smile upon numberless admirers, live carelessly
from day to day, in the noisy excitement
of the world; still, there will be some
blessed hours, when the heart, though often
laid waste, will flourish again all of a sudden.
Love is like the sky, which looks blue, even
when reflected in the stream formed by the
storm. It is thus that love is occasionally
found pure in a troubled heart. But, moreover,
this serious passion of Mademoiselle de
Camargo was experienced by her in all the
freshness of her youth.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One morning, Grimm, Pont-de-Veyle, Duclos,
Helvetius, presented themselves in a gay
mood, at the humble residence of the celebrated
dancer. She was then living in an
old house in the Rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre.
An aged serving-woman opened
the door.—"We wish to see Mademoiselle de
Camargo," said Helvetius, who had great difficulty
in keeping his countenance. The old
woman led them into a parlor that was furnished
with peculiar and grotesque-looking
furniture. The wainscoting was covered with
pastels representing Mademoiselle de Camargo
in all her grace, and in her different characters.
But the parlor was not adorned by
her portraits only; there was a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Christ on</span></span><span class="tei tei-pb" id="page234">[pg 234]</span><a name="Pg234" id="Pg234" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">the Mount of Olives</span></span>, a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Magdalen at the Tomb</span></span>,
a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Veiled Virgin</span></span>, a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Venus</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Three Graces</span></span>,
some <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Cupids</span></span>, half concealed beneath some
rosaries and sacred relics, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Madonnas</span></span>,
covered with trophies from the opera!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The goddess of the place did not keep
them a long time waiting; a door opened,
half-a-dozen dogs of every variety of breed
sprang into the parlor: it must be said, to
the praise of Mademoiselle de Camargo, that
these were not lap-dogs. She appeared behind
them, carrying in her arms (looking like
a fur muff) an Angora cat of fine growth.
As she had not followed the fashion for ten
years or more, she appeared to have come
from the other world.—"You see, gentlemen,"
pointing to her dogs, "all the court I
have at present, but in truth those courtiers
there are well worth all others. Here, Marquis!
down, Duke! lie down, Chevalier! Do
not be offended, gentlemen, that I receive
you in such company; but how was I to
know?..."—Grimm first spoke.—"You
will excuse, mademoiselle, this unannounced
visit when you know the important object of
it."—"I am as curious as if I were only twenty
years old," said Mademoiselle de Camargo;
"but, alas! when I was twenty, it was the
heart that was curious; but now, in the
winter of life, I am no longer troubled on
that score."—"The heart never grows old,"
said Helvetius, bowing.—"That is a heresy,
sir: those only dare to advance such maxims
who have never been in love. It is love that
never grows old, for it dies in childhood.
But the heart—"—"You see, madame, that
your heart is still young; what you have just
said proves that you are still full of fire and
inspiration."—"Yes, yes," said Mademoiselle
de Camargo, "you are perhaps right; but
when the hair is gray and the wrinkles are
deep, the heart is a lost treasure; a coin that
is no longer current."—While saying this, she
lifted up Marquis by his two paws, and kissed
him on the head: Marquis was a fine setter-dog,
with a beautiful spotted skin.—"They,
at least, will love me to the last. But it
seems to me we are talking nonsense; have
we nothing better to talk about? Come,
gentlemen, I am all attention!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The visitors looked at each other with
some embarrassment; they seemed to be asking
of each other who was to speak first.
Pont-de-Veyle collected his thoughts, and
spoke as follows: "Mademoiselle, we have
been breakfasting together; we had a gay
time of it, like men of spirit. Instead of
bringing before us, as the Egyptians in olden
times, mummies, in order to remind us that
time is the most precious of all things, we
called up all those gay phantoms which enchanted
our youth: need I say that you were
not the least charming of them? who did
not love you? who did not desire to live
with you one hour, even at the expense of a
wound? Happiness never costs too much—"
Mademoiselle Camargo interrupted the speaker:
"O gentlemen, do not, I beg, blind me
with the memory of the past; do not awaken
a buried passion! Let me die in peace! See,
the tears are in my eyes!"—The visitors, affected,
looked with a certain degree of emotion
at the poor old lady who had loved so
much. "It is strange," said Helvetius to his
neighbor, "we came here to laugh, but we
are travelling quite another road; however,
I must say, nothing could be more ludicrous
than such a caricature, if it were not of a
woman." "Proceed, sir," said Mademoiselle
de Camargo to Pont-de-Veyle. "To tell you
the truth, madame, the worst fellow in the
company, or rather he who had drank the
most, declared that he was, of all your lovers,
the one you most loved. 'The mere talk of a
man who has had too much wine,' said one
of us. But our impertinent emptied his glass,
and backed his statement. The discussion
became very lively. We talked, we drank,
and we talked. When the last bottle was
empty, and the dispute was likely to end in a
duel, and we talked without knowing, probably,
what we said, the most sober of the company
proposed to go and ask you yourself
which of your lovers you loved the most. Is
it the Count de Melun? is it the Duke de
Richelieu? is it the Marquis de Croismare?
the Baron de Viomesnil? the Viscount de
Jumilhac? is it Monsieur de Beaumont, or
Monsieur d'Aubigny? is it a poet? is it a
soldier? is it an abbé?" "Pshaw! pshaw!"
said Mademoiselle de Camargo, smiling; "you
had better refer to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Court Calendar</span></span>!"
"What we want to know is not the names of
those who have loved you, but, I repeat, the
name of him whom you loved the most."
"You are fools," said Mademoiselle de Camargo,
with an air of sadness and a voice that
showed emotion; "I will not answer you.
Let us leave our extinct passions in their
tombs, in peace. Why unbury all those
charming follies which have had their day?"
"Come," says Grimm to Duclos, "do not let
us grow sentimental; that would be too absurd.
Mademoiselle de Camargo," said he,
playing with the dogs at the same time,
"which was the epoch of short petticoats?
for that is one of the points of our philosophical
dispute."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The aged <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">danseuse</span></span> did not answer. Taking
Pont-de-Veyle by the hand, all of a sudden,
she said in rising: "Monsieur, follow me."
He obeyed with some surprise. She conducted
him to her bedchamber; it was like a
basket of odds and ends; it looked like a
linendraper's shop in confusion; it was all
disorder; it was quite evident that the dogs
were at home there. Mademoiselle de Camargo
went to a little rosewood chest of
drawers, covered with specimens of Saxony
porcelain, more or less chipped and broken.
She opened a little ebony box, exposing its
contents to the eyes of Pont-de-Veyle. "Do
you see?" said she, with a sigh. Pont-de-Veyle
saw a torn letter, the dry bouquet of<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page235">[pg 235]</span><a name="Pg235" id="Pg235" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
half a century, the kind of flowers of which
it was composed could hardly be recognized.
"Well?" asked Pont-de-Veyle. "Well, do
you understand?" "Not at all." "Look at
that portrait." She pointed with her finger
to a wretched portrait in oils, covered with
dust and spider's web. "I begin to understand."
"Yes," said she, "that is his portrait.
As for myself, I never look at it. The
one here," striking her breast, "is more like.
A portrait is a good thing for those who have
no time for memory."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Pont-de-Veyle looked in turn with much
interest at the letter, the faded bouquet, and
the wretched portrait. "Have you ever met
this person?" "Never." "Let us return,
then." "No; I beg let me hear the story."
"Is it not enough to have seen his portrait?
You can now settle your dispute with a word,
since you know whether he whom I loved
the most resembles your friend who had
taken so much wine." "He does not resemble
him the least in the world." "Well, that
is all: I forgive your visit. Farewell! When
you breakfast with your friends, you can take
up my defence somewhat. You can tell those
libertines without pity, that I have saved
myself by my heart, if we can be saved that
way.... Yes, yes; it is my plank of safety,
in the wreck!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Saying these words, Mademoiselle de Camargo
approached the door of the saloon.
Pont-de-Veyle followed her, carrying the
ebony-box. "Gentlemen," said he, to his
merry friends, "our drunken toper was a
coxcomb; I have seen the portrait of the best
beloved of the goddess of this mansion; now,
you must join your prayers to mine, to prevail
upon Mademoiselle de Camargo to relate
to us the romance of her heart; I only know
the preface, which is melancholy and interesting;
I have seen a letter, a bouquet, and a
portrait." "I will not tell you a word,"
muttered she; "women are charged with
not being able to keep a secret; there is,
however, more than one that they never tell.
A love-secret is a rose which embalms our
hearts; if it is told, the rose loses its perfume.
I who address you," said Mademoiselle de Camargo,
in brightening up, "I have only kept
my love in all its freshness by keeping it all
to myself. There were only La Carton and
that old rogue Fontenelle who ever got hold
of my secret. Fontenelle was in the habit of
dining frequently with me; one day, finding
me in tears, he was so surprised, he who
never wept himself, from philosophy, doubtless,
that he tormented me for more than an
hour for a solution of the enigma. He was almost
like a woman; he drew from me, by
his cat-like worrying, the history of my love.
Would you believe it? I hoped to touch his
heart, but it was like speaking to the deaf.
After having listened to the end without saying
a word, he muttered with his little weak
voice, '<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">It is pretty!</span></span>' La Carton, however,
wept with me. It is worth being a poet and
a philosopher in order not to understand such
histories."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo was silent; a
deep silence followed, and every look was
upon her. "Speak, speak! we are all attention,"
said Helvetius, "we are more worthy
of hearing your story than the old philosopher,
who loved no one but himself." "After
all," she replied, carried away by the delight
of her remembrance, "it will be spending
a happy hour; I speak of myself, and as
for happy or unhappy hours, not many more
are to pass during my life, for I feel that I
am passing away. But I do not know how
to begin; a fire flashes before my eyes; I cannot
see, I am so overcome. To begin: I was
twenty.... But I shall never have the courage
to read my history aloud before so many
people." "Fancy, Mademoiselle de Camargo,"
said Helvetius, "that you are reading a romance."
"Well, then," said she, "I will begin
without ceremony."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I was twenty years old. You are all
aware, for the adventure caused a great deal
of scandal, you all know how the Count de
Melun carried me off one morning along with
my sister Sophy. This little mad-cap, who
had a great deal of imagination, having discovered
me reading a letter of the count's, in
which he spoke of his design, she swore upon
her thirteen years that he must carry her
off too. I was far from conceding any such
claim. It was always taken for granted that
children know nothing; but at the opera,
and in love, there are no children. The
Count de Melun, by means of a bribe, had
gained over the chambermaid. I was very
culpable; I knew all, and had not informed
my father. But my father wearied me somewhat;
he preached in the desert; that is to
say he preached to me about virtue. He was
always talking to me about our noble descent,
of our cousin, who was a cardinal, of our uncle,
who was a grand inquisitor of the Inquisition.
Vanity of vanities! all was vanity
with him, while with me all was love. I did
not trouble myself about being of an illustrious
family; I was handsome, I was worshipped,
and, what was still better, I was young.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"In the middle of the night I heard my
door open; it was the Count de Melun. I
was not asleep, I was expecting him. It is
not every woman who would like it that is
run away with. I was going to be run away
with.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Love is not only charming in itself, it is
so also from its romance. A passion without
adventure is like a mistress without caprice.
I was seated upon my bed. 'Is it
you, Jacqueline?' I said, affecting fright. 'It
is I,' said the count, falling upon his knees.
'You, sir! Your letter was not a joke then?'
'My horses are at hand; there is no time to
lose; leave this sad prison: my hotel, my
fortune, my heart, all are at your service.'
At that moment a light appeared at the door.
'My father!' I cried, with affright, as I concealed<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page236">[pg 236]</span><a name="Pg236" id="Pg236" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
myself behind the bed curtains. 'All
is lost,' muttered the count. It was Sophy.
I recognized her light step. She approached
with the light in her hand, and in silence,
toward the count. 'My sister,' said she, with
some degree of excitement, but without losing
her presence of mind, 'here I am, all
ready.' I did not understand; I looked at
her with surprise; she was all dressed, from
head to foot. 'What are you saying? You
are mad.' 'Not by any means; I want to
be run away with, like yourself.' The Count
de Melun could not help laughing. 'Mademoiselle,'
he said to her, 'you forget your
dolls and toys. 'Sir,' replied she, with dignity,
'I am thirteen years old. It was not
yesterday that I made my <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">début</span></span> at the opera;
I take a part on the stage in the ravishment
of Psyche.' 'Good,' says the count, 'we will
carry you off too.' 'It is as well,' whispered
the count in my ear; 'this is the only
way of getting rid of her.'</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I was very much put out by this contretemps,
which gave a new complication to our
adventure. My father might forgive my being
carried off, but Sophy! I tried to dissuade
her from her mad enterprise. I offered
her my ornaments; she would not listen
to reason. She declared, that if she was not
carried off with me she would inform against
us, and thus prevent the adventure. 'Do not
oppose her.' said the count; 'with such a
tendency she will be sure to be carried off
sooner or later.'—'Well, let us depart together,'
The chambermaid, who had approached
with the stealthy, quiet step of a cat, told us
to hurry, for she was afraid that the noise of
the horses, that were pawing the ground near
by, would awaken Monsieur de Camargo.
We were off; the carriage drove us to the
count's hotel, rue de la Culture-Saint-Gervais.
Sophy laughed and sung. In the morning I
wrote to the manager of the opera, that by
the advice of my physician it was impossible
for me to appear for three weeks. To tell
you the truth, gentlemen, in a week's time I
went myself to inform the manager that I
would dance that evening. This, you perceive,
is not very flattering to the Count de
Melun; but there are so few men in this
world who are sufficiently interesting for a
week together. I loved the count, doubtless,
but I wanted to breathe a little without him.
I desired the excitement of the theatre. I
opened my window, constantly, as if I would
fly out of it.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"As soon as I appeared at the opera my
father followed my track, and discovered the
retreat of his daughters. One evening behind
the scenes, he went straight to the count
and insulted him. The count answered him,
with great deference, that he would avoid
the chance of taking the life of a gallant gentleman
who had given birth to such a daughter
as I was. My father did his best to prove
and establish his sixteen quarterings, the
count was not willing to fight him. It was
about that time that my father presented his
famous petition to the Cardinal de Fleury:
'Your petitioner would state to the Lord
Cardinal, that the Count de Melun, having
carried off his two daughters in the night,
between the 10th and 11th of the month of
May, 1728, holds them imprisoned in his hotel,
rue de la Culture-Saint-Gervais. Your petitioner
having to do with a person of rank, is
obliged to have recourse to his majesty's
ministers; he hopes, through the goodness of
the king, justice will be done him, and that
the Count de Melun will be commanded to
espouse the elder daughter of your petitioner,
and endow the younger.'</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A father could not have done better.
The Cardinal de Fleury amused himself a
good deal with the petition, and recommended
me, one day that we were supping together,
for full penance, to make over to my
father my salary at the opera. But I find I
am not getting on with my story. But what
would you have? The beginning is always
where we dwell with the greatest pleasure.
I had been living in the count's hotel a year;
Sophy had returned to my father's house,
where she did not remain long; but it is not
her history that I am relating. One morning
a cousin of the count arrived at the hotel in
a great bustle; he was about spending a season
in Paris, in all the wildness of youth. He
took us by surprise at breakfast; he took his
seat at table, without ceremony, on the invitation
of the count.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"In the beginning he did not strike my
fancy; I thought him somewhat of a braggadocio.
He cultivated his mustachios with,
great care (the finest mustachios in the world),
and spoke quite often enough of his prowess
in battle. Some visitor interrupting us, the
count went into his library, and left us together,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">tête-à-tête</span></span>. Monsieur de Marteille's
voice, until then proud and haughty in its
tone, softened a little. He had at first looked
at me with the eye of a soldier; he now
looked at me with the eye of a pupil.—'Excuse,
madame,' said he, with some emotion,
'my rude soldier-like bearing; I know nothing
of fine manners; I have never passed
through the school of gallantry. Do not be
offended at any thing I may say.'—'Why,
sir,' said I, smiling, 'you do not say any thing
at all.'—'Ah, if I knew how to speak! but,
in truth, I would feel more at home before a
whole army than I do before your beautiful
eyes. The count is very happy in having
such a beautiful enemy to contend with.'—While
speaking thus, he looked at me with a
supplicating tenderness which contrasted singularly
with his look of the hero. I do not
know what my eyes answered him. The
count then came in, and the conversation took
another turn.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Monsieur de Marteille accepted the earnest
invitation of his cousin to stay at his hotel.
He went out; I did not see him again till
evening. He did not know who I was; the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page237">[pg 237]</span><a name="Pg237" id="Pg237" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
count called me Marianne, and, unintentionally,
perhaps, he had not spoken a word to
his cousin about the opera, or my grace and
skill as a dancer. At supper, Monsieur de
Marteille had no longer the same frank gayety
of the morning; a slight uneasiness passed
like a cloud over his brow; more than once
I caught his melancholy glance.—'Cheer up
your cousin,' I said to the count.—'I know
what he wants,' answered Monsieur de Melun;
'I will take him to-morrow to the opera.
You will see that in that God-forsaken place
he will find his good-humor again.'—I felt
jealous, without asking myself why.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Next day the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Triumph of Bacchus</span></span> was
played. I appeared as Ariadne, all covered
with vine-leaves and flowers. I never danced
so badly. I had recognized Monsieur de Marteille
among the gentlemen of the court. He
looked at me with a serious air. I had hoped
to have had an opportunity to speak with
him before the end of the ballet, but he had
already gone. I was offended at his abrupt
departure.—'How!' said I to myself, 'he sees
me dance, and this is the way he makes me
his compliments.'—Next morning, he breakfasted
with us; he did not say a word about
the evening; finally, not being able to resist
my impatience, 'Well, Monsieur de Marteille,'
said I to him, somewhat harshly, 'you left
early last night; it was hardly polite of you.'—'Ah!
when you were to dance no more!'
said he, with a sigh. This was the first time
that I was ever spoken to thus. Fearing that
he had said too much, and in order to divert
Monsieur de Melun, who observed him with
a look of surprise, he began to speak of a little
singer of no great moment, who had a
voice of some freshness.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"In the afternoon, the count detained at
home for some reason or other, begged his
cousin to accompany me in a ride to the
woods. He was to join us on horseback.
The idea of this ride made my heart beat violently.
It was the first time that I had listened
with pleasure to the beatings of my heart.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"We started on a fine summer's day.
Every thing was like a holyday: the sky, the
houses, the trees, the horses, and the people.
A veil had fallen from my eyes. For some
minutes we remained in the deepest silence;
not knowing what to do, I amused myself by
making a diamond that I wore glisten in the
rays of the sun that entered the carriage.
Monsieur de Marteille caught hold of my
hand. We both said not a word the whole
time. I tried to disengage my hand; he held
it the harder. I blushed; he turned pale.
A jolt of the carriage occurred very opportunely
to relieve us from our embarrassment;
the jolt had lifted me from my seat; it made
me fall upon his bosom.—'Monsieur,' said I,
starting. 'Ah, madame, if you knew how I
love you!'—He said this with a tenderness
beyond expression; it was love itself that
spoke! I had no longer the strength to get
angry. He took my hand again and devoured
it with kisses. He did not say another word;
I tried to speak, but did not know what to
say myself. From time to time our looks
met each other; it was then that we were eloquent.
Such eternal pledges, such promises
of happiness!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Notwithstanding, we arrived at the woods.
All of a sudden, as if seized with a new idea,
he put his head out of the window, and said
something to the coachman. I understood,
by the answer of La Violette, the coachman,
that he was not willing to obey; but Monsieur
de Marteille having alluded to a caning
and fifty pistoles, the coachman made no further
objections. I did not understand very
well what he was about. After an hour's
rapid travelling, as I was looking with some
anxiety as to where we were, he tried to divert
me by telling me some episodes of his
life. Although I did not listen very intelligently
to what he said, I heard enough to
find out that I was the first woman he had
ever loved. They all say so, but he told the
truth, for he spoke with his eyes and his
heart. I soon found out that we were no
longer on our right road; but observe how
far the feebleness of a woman in love will go:
I hadn't the courage to ask him why he had
changed our route. We crossed the Seine in
a boat, between Sèvres and St. Cloud; we
regained the woods, and after an hour's ride
through them, we reached an iron park-gate,
at the extremity of the village of Velaisy.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Monsieur de Marteille had counted without
his host. He expected not to have found
a soul in his brother's chateau, but, since the
evening before, his brother had returned from
a journey to the coast of France. Seeing that
the chateau was inhabited, Monsieur de Marteille
begged me to wait a little in the carriage.
As soon as he had gone, the coachman
came to the door.—'Well, madame, we
breathe at last! my opinion is that we should
make our escape. Depend upon the word of
La Violette, we shall be in less than two
hours at the hotel.'—'La Violette,' said I,
'open the door.'—I ran a great risk. La
Violette obeyed.—'Now,' said I to him, when
I had alighted upon the ground, 'you may
go!'—He looked at me with the eye of an old
philosopher, mounted his box, and snapped
his whip; but he had hardly started, when
he thought it better to return.—'I will not
return without madame, for if I return alone,
I shall be sure of a good heating, and of being
discharged.'—'Indeed, La Violette! as you
please.' At that moment I saw the count returning.—'It
is all for the best,' he cried out,
in the distance; 'my brother has only two
days to spend in Paris: he has stopped here
to give his orders; he wishes, at all hazards,
to see Camargo dance! I told him that she
was to appear this evening. He will leave
in a moment. You must wait in the park till
he is gone. I will return to him, for I must
take my leave of him, and wish him a pleasant
journey.</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page238">[pg 238]</span><a name="Pg238" id="Pg238" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"An hour afterward we were installed in
the chateau. La Violette remained, at our
order, with his carriage and horses. In the
evening there was great excitement at the
opera. It was solemnly announced to the
public that Mademoiselle de Camargo had
been carried off! The Count de Melun surprised
at not finding us in the woods, had
gone to the theatre. He was hissed; he
swore revenge. He sought every where; he
found neither his horses, nor his carriage, nor
his mistress. For three months the opera
was in mourning! Thirty bailiffs were on
my track; but we made so little noise in our
little chateau, hid away in the woods, that
we were never discovered."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo became pale;
she was silent, and looked at her listeners as
if she would say by her looks that had been
lighted up at that celestial flame which had
passed over her life: "Oh, how we loved
each other during those three months!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">She continued as follows: "That season
has filled a greater space in my life than all
the rest of my days. When I think of the
past, it is there where my thoughts travel at
once. How relate to you the particulars of
our happiness? When destiny protects us,
happiness is composed of a thousand charming
nothings that the hearts of others cannot
understand. During those three months I
was entirely happy; I wished to live for ever
in this charming retreat for him that I loved
a thousand times more than myself. I wished
to abandon the opera, that opera that the
Count de Melun could not make me forget
for a week!</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Monsieur de Marteille possessed all the
attraction of a real passion; he loved me
with a charming simplicity; he put in play,
without designing it, all the seductions of
love. What tender words! what impassioned
looks! what enticing conversation! Each
day was a holyday, each hour a rapture. I
had no time to think of the morrow.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Our days were spent in walks, in the
shade of the woods, in the thousand windings
of the park. In the evening I played
the harpsichord, and I sang. It often occurred
that I danced, danced for him. In the
middle of a dance that would have excited a
furor at the opera, I fell at his feet, completely
overcome; he raised me up, pressed me to
his heart and forgave me for having danced.
I always hear his beautiful voice, which was
like music, but such music as I dream of, and
not such as Rameau has composed... But
now I am speaking without knowing what I
say."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo turned toward
Pont-de-Veyle. "Monsieur," said she, "open
that box or rather hand it to me." She took
the box, opened it, and took the bouquet from
it. "But above all, gentlemen, I must explain
to you why I have preserved this bouquet."
While saying this she attempted to
smell the vanished odor of the bouquet.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"One morning," she resumed, "Monsieur
de Marteille awoke me early—'Farewell!' he
said, pale and trembling.—'What are you
saying?' cried I with affright.—'Alas,' replied
he, embracing me, I did not wish to tell
you before, but for a fortnight I have had orders
to leave. Hostilities are to be resumed
in the Low Countries; I have no longer a
single hour either for you or for me; I have
over forty leagues to travel to-day.'—'Oh,
my God, what will become of me?' said I
weeping. 'I will follow you.'—'But, my
dear Marianne, I shall return.'—'You will
return in an age! Go, cruel one, I shall be
dead when you return.'</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"An hour was spent in taking leave and in
tears; he was obliged to go; he went.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I returned to weep in that retreat, that
was so delightful the evening before. Two
days after his departure, he wrote me a very
tender letter, in which he told me that on the
next day, he would have the consolation of
engaging in battle. 'I hope,' added he, 'that
the campaign will not be a long one; some
days of hard fighting, and then I return to
your feet.' What more shall I tell you? He
wrote me once again."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo unfolded slowly
the torn letter. "Here is the second letter:—</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: right; margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">Oct 17.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"'No, I shall not return, my dear, I am
going to die, but without fear, without reproach.
Oh! if you were here, Marianne!
What madness! in a hospital where, all of
us, all, be we what we may, are disfigured
with wounds, and dying! What an idea to
dash ahead in the fight, when I only thought
of seeing you again. As soon as I was
wounded, I asked the surgeon if I should
live long enough to reach Paris: "You have
but an hour," he answered me pitilessly...
They brought me here with the others. In a
word, we should learn to resign ourselves to
what comes from Heaven. I die content
with having loved you; console yourself; return
to the opera. I am not jealous of those
who shall succeed me, for will they love you
as I have done? Farewell, Marianne, death
approaches, and death never waits; I thank
it for having left me sufficient time to bid you
farewell. Now, it will be I who will wait
for you.</span></p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"'Farewell, farewell, I press you to my
heart, which ceases to beat.'"</span></p>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">After having wiped her eyes, Mademoiselle
de Camargo continued as follows: "Shall I
describe to you all my sorrows, all my tears,
all my anguish! Alas! as he had said, I returned
to the opera. I did not forget Monsieur
de Marteille, in the tempest of my folly.
Others have loved me. I have loved no one
but Monsieur de Marteille; his memory has
beamed upon my life like a blessing from
heaven. When I reappeared at the opera, I
was seen attending mass; I was laughed at
for my devotion. They did not understand,
philosophers as they were, that I prayed to<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page239">[pg 239]</span><a name="Pg239" id="Pg239" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
God, in consequence of those words of Monsieur
de Martielle: 'Now it will be I who
will wait for you.'</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"When I left the chateau, I plucked a
bouquet in the park, thinking that I was
plucking the flowers that had bloomed for
him; I brought away this bouquet, along
with the portrait that you see there. I had
vowed, in leaving our dear retreat, to go
every year, at the same season, to gather a
bouquet in the park. Will you believe it? I
never went there again!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mademoiselle de Camargo thus finished her
history. "Well, my dear philosopher," said
Helvetius to Duclos, in descending the steps,
"you have just read a book that is somewhat
curious."—"A bad book," answered Duclos,
"but such books are always interesting."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In April, 1770, the news spread that Mademoiselle
de Camargo had just died a good
catholic. "This created a great surprise,"
says a journal of the day, "in the republic of
letters, for she was supposed to have been
dead twenty years." Her last admirer and
her last friend, to whom she had bequeathed
her dogs and her cats, had caused her body to
be interred with a magnificence unexampled
at the opera. "All the world," says Grimm,
"admired that white pall, the symbol of
chastity, that all unmarried persons are entitled
to in their funeral ceremony."</p>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc79" id="toc79"></a>
<a name="pdf80" id="pdf80"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">MY NOVEL:</span></h1>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">OR, VARIETIES IN ENGLISH LIFE.</span><a id="noteref_7" name="noteref_7" href="#note_7"><span class="tei tei-noteref" style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">7</span></span></a></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY PISISTRATUS CAXTON.</p>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc81" id="toc81"></a>
<a name="pdf82" id="pdf82"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">BOOK IX.—INITIAL CHAPTER.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Now that I am fairly in the heart of my
story, these preliminary chapters must
shrink into comparatively small dimensions,
and not encroach upon the space required by
the various personages whose acquaintance
I have picked up here and there, and who
are now all crowding upon me like poor relations
to whom one has unadvisedly given a
general invitation, and who descend upon one
simultaneously about Christmas time. Where
they are to be stowed, and what is to become
of them all, heaven knows; in the meanwhile,
the reader will have already observed
that the Caxton family themselves are turned
out of their own rooms, sent a-packing, in
order to make way for the new comers.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And now that I refer to that respected
family, I shall take occasion (dropping all
metaphor) to intimate a doubt, whether,
should these papers be collected and republished,
I shall not wholly recast the Initial
Chapters in which the Caxtons have been
permitted to reappear. They assure me,
themselves, that they feel a bashful apprehension
lest they may be accused of having
thrust irrelevant noses into affairs which by
no means belong to them—an impertinence
which, being a peculiarly shy race, they have
carefully shunned in the previous course of
their innocent and segregated existence. Indeed,
there is some cause for that alarm,
seeing that not long since, in a journal professing
to be critical, this <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">My Novel, or Varieties
in English Life</span></span>, was misnomed and insulted
as "a Continuation of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Caxtons</span></span>,"
with which biographical work it has no more
to do (save in the aforesaid introductions to
previous Books in the present diversified and
compendious narrative) than I with Hecuba,
or Hecuba with me. Reserving the doubt
herein suggested for maturer deliberation, I
proceed with my new Initial Chapter. And
I shall stint the matter therein contained to
a brief comment upon <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Public Life</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Were you ever in public life, my dear
reader? I don't mean by that question, to
ask whether you were ever Lord Chancellor,
Prime Minister, Leader of the Opposition, or
even a member of the House of Commons.
An author hopes to find readers far beyond
that very egregious but very limited segment
of the Great Circle. Were you ever a busy
man in your vestry, active in a municipal
corporation, one of a committee for furthering
the interests of an enlightened candidate
for your native burgh, town, or shire?—in a
word, did you ever resign your private comforts
as men in order to share the public
troubles of mankind? If ever you have so
far departed from the Lucretian philosophy,
just look back—was it life at all that you
lived?—were you an individual distinct existence—a
passenger in the railway?—or
were you merely an indistinct portion of that
common flame which heated the boiler and
generated the steam that set off the monster
train?—very hot, very active, very useful, no
doubt; but all your identity fused in flame,
and all your forces vanishing in gas.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And you think the people in the railway
carriages care for you?—do you think that
the gentleman in the worsted wrapper is
saying to his neighbor with the striped rug
on his comfortable knees, "How grateful we
ought to be for that fiery particle which is
crackling and hissing under the boiler! It
helps us on the fraction of an inch from
Vauxhall to Putney?" Not a bit of it. Ten
to one but he is saying—"Not sixteen miles
an hour! What the deuce is the matter
with the stoker?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Look at our friend Audley Egerton. You
have just had a glimpse of the real being that
struggles under the huge copper;—you have
heard the hollow sound of the rich man's
coffers under the tap of Baron Levy's friendly
knuckle—heard the strong man's heart
give out its dull warning sound to the scientific
ear of Dr. F
vanishes the separate existence, lost again in
the flame that heats the boiler, and the
smoke that curls into air from the grimy furnace.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Look to it, O Public Man, whoever thou
art, and whatsoever thy degree—see if thou
canst not compound matters, so as to keep a
little nook apart for thy private life; that is,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page240">[pg 240]</span><a name="Pg240" id="Pg240" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">thyself</span></span>! Let the great Popkins Question
not absorb wholly the individual soul of thee,
as Smith or Johnson. Don't so entirely consume
thyself under that insatiable boiler,
that when thy poor little monad rushes out
from the sooty furnace, and arrives at the
stars, thou mayest find no vocation for thee
there, and feel as if thou hadst nothing to
do amidst the still splendors of the Infinite.
I don't deny to thee the uses of "Public
Life;" I grant that it is much to have helped
to carry that great Popkins Question; but
Private Life, my friend, is the life of thy
Private soul; and there may be matters concerned
with that which, on consideration,
thou mayest allow, cannot be wholly mixed
up with the great Popkins Question—and
were not finally settled when thou didst exclaim—"I
have not lived in vain—the Popkins
Question is carried at last!" O immortal
soul, for one quarter of an hour <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">per diem</span></span>—de-Popkinise
thine immortality!</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc83" id="toc83"></a>
<a name="pdf84" id="pdf84"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER II.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It had not been without much persuasion
on the part of Jackeymo, that Riccabocca
had consented to settle himself in the house
which Randal had recommended to him.
Not that the exile conceived any suspicion
of the young man beyond that which he
might have shared with Jackeymo, viz., that
Randal's interest in the father was increased
by a very natural and excusable admiration
of the daughter. But the Italian had the
pride common to misfortune,—he did not like
to be indebted to others, and he shrank from
the pity of those to whom it was known that
he had held a higher station in his own land.
These scruples gave way to the strength of
his affection for his daughter and his dread of
his foe. Good men, however able and brave,
who have suffered from the wicked, are apt
to form exaggerated notions of the power that
has prevailed against them. Jackeymo had
conceived a superstitious terror of Peschiera,
and Riccabocca, though by no means addicted
to superstition, still had a certain creep of
the flesh whenever he thought of his foe.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But Riccabocca—than whom no man was
more physically brave, and no man, in some
respects, more morally timid—feared the
Count less as a foe than as a gallant. He remembered
his kinsman's surpassing beauty—the
power he had obtained over women. He
knew him versed in every art that corrupts,
and void of all the conscience that deters.
And Riccabocca had unhappily nursed himself
into so poor an estimate of the female
character, that even the pure and lofty nature
of Violante did not seem to him a sufficient
safeguard against the craft and determination
of a practised and remorseless intriguer. But
of all the precautions he could take, none appeared
more likely to conduce to safety, than
his establishing a friendly communication
with one who professed to be able to get at all
the Count's plans and movements, and who
could apprise Riccabocca at once should his
retreat be discovered. "Forewarned is forearmed,"
said he to himself, in one of the
proverbs common to all nations. However,
as with his usual sagacity he came to reflect
upon the alarming intelligence conveyed to
him by Randal, viz., that the Count sought
his daughter's hand, he divined that there
was some strong personal interest under such
ambition; and what could be that interest
save the probability of Riccabocca's ultimate
admission to the Imperial grace, and the
Count's desire to assure himself of the heritage
to an estate that he might be permitted
to retain no more? Riccabocca was not indeed
aware of the condition (not according
to usual customs in Austria) on which the
Count held the forfeited domains. He knew
not that they had been granted merely on
pleasure; but he was too well aware of Peschiera's
nature to suppose that he would woo
a bride without a dower, or be moved by remorse
in any overture of reconciliation. He
felt assured, too—and this increased all his
fears—that Peschiera would never venture
to seek an interview himself; all the Count's
designs on Violante would be dark, secret,
and clandestine. He was perplexed and tormented
by the doubt, whether or not to express
openly to Violante his apprehensions
of the nature of the danger to be apprehended.
He had told her vaguely that it was for her
sake that he desired secrecy and concealment.
But that might mean any thing: what danger
to himself would not menace her? Yet
to say more was so contrary to a man of his
Italian notions and Machiavellian maxims!
To say to a young girl, "There is a man
come over to England on purpose to woo
and win you. For heaven's sake take care
of him; he is diabolically handsome; he never
fails where he sets his heart." "Cospetto!"
cried the doctor aloud, as these admonitions
shaped themselves to speech in the camera-obscura
of his brain; "such a warning would
have undone a Cornelia while she was yet an
innocent spinster." No, he resolved to say
nothing to Violante of the Count's intention,
only to keep guard, and make himself and
Jackeymo all eyes and all ears.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The house Randal had selected pleased
Riccabocca at first glance. It stood alone,
upon a little eminence; its upper windows
commanded the high road. It had been a
school, and was surrounded by high walls,
which contained a garden and lawn sufficiently
large for exercise. The garden doors
were thick, fortified by strong bolts, and had
a little wicket lattice, shut and opened at
pleasure, from which Jackeymo could inspect
all visitors before he permitted them to
enter.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An old female servant from the neighborhood
was cautiously hired; Riccabocca renounced
his Italian name, and abjured his
origin. He spoke English sufficiently well to
think he could pass as an Englishman. He<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page241">[pg 241]</span><a name="Pg241" id="Pg241" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
called himself Mr. Richmouth (a liberal translation
of Riccabocca). He bought a blunderbuss,
two pair of pistols, and a huge house-dog.
Thus provided for, he allowed Jackeymo
to write a line to Randal and communicate
his arrival.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal lost no time in calling. With his
usual adaptability and his powers of dissimulation,
he contrived easily to please Mrs. Riccabocca,
and to increase the good opinion the
exile was disposed to form of him. He engaged
Violante in conversation on Italy and
its poets. He promised to buy her books.
He began, though more distantly than he
could have desired—for her sweet stateliness
awed him in spite of himself—the preliminaries
of courtship. He established himself at
once as a familiar guest, riding down daily in
the dusk of evening, after the toils of office,
and retiring at night. In four or five days
he thought he had made great progress with
all. Riccabocca watched him narrowly, and
grew absorbed in thought after every visit.
At length one night, when he and Mrs. Riccabocca
were alone in the drawing-room,
Violante having retired to rest, he thus spoke
as he filled his pipe:—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Happy is the man who has no children!
Thrice happy he who has no girls."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My dear Alphonso!" said the wife, looking
up from the wristband to which she was
attaching a neat mother-o'-pearl button. She
said no more; it was the sharpest rebuke she
was in the custom of administering to her
husband's cynical and odious observations.
Riccabocca lighted his pipe with a thread
paper, gave three great puffs, and resumed:</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"One blunderbuss, four pistols, and a
house-dog called Pompey, who would have
made mince-meat of Julius Cæsar!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He certainly eats a great deal, does Pompey!"
said Mrs. Riccabocca, simply. "But
if he relieves your mind!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He does not relieve it in the least,
ma'am," groaned Riccabocca; "and that is
the point I was coming to. This is a most
harassing life, and a most undignified life.
And I who have only asked from Heaven
dignity and repose! But, if Violante were
once married, I should want neither blunderbuss,
pistol, nor Pompey. And it is that
which would relieve my mind, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cara mia</span></span>;—Pompey
only relieves my larder!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Now Riccabocca had been more communicative
to Jemima than he had been to Violante.
Having once trusted her with one
secret, he had every motive to trust her with
another; and he had accordingly spoken out
his fears of the Count di Peschiera. Therefore
she answered, laying down the work,
and taking her husband's hand tenderly—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Indeed, my love, since you dread so
much (though I own that I must think unreasonably)
this wicked, dangerous man, it
would be the happiest thing in the world to
see dear Violante well married; because, you
see, if she is married to one person, she cannot
be married to another; and all fear of this
Count, as you say, would be at an end."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You cannot express yourself better. It
is a great comfort to unbosom one's self to a
wife, after all!" quoth Riccabocca.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But," said the wife, after a grateful kiss—"but
where and how can we find a husband
suitable to the rank of your daughter?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"There—there—there," cried Riccabocca,
pushing back his chair to the farther end of
the room—"that comes of unbosoming one's
self! Out flies one's secret; it is opening the
lid of Pandora's box; one is betrayed, ruined,
undone!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why, there's not a soul that can hear
us!" said Mrs. Riccabocca, soothingly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That's chance, ma'am! If you once contract
the habit of blabbing out a secret when
nobody's by, how on earth can you resist it
when you have the pleasurable excitement
of telling it to all the world? Vanity,
vanity—woman's vanity! Woman never could
withstand rank—never!" The Doctor went
on railing for a quarter of an hour, and was
very reluctantly appeased by Mrs. Riccabocca's
repeated and tearful assurances that she
would never even whisper to herself that her
husband had ever held any other rank than
that of Doctor.—Riccabocca, with a dubious
shake of the head, renewed—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have done with all pomp and pretension.
Besides, the young man is a born gentleman;
he seems in good circumstances; he
has energy and latent ambition; he is akin
to L'Estrange's intimate friend; he seems attached
to Violante. I don't think it probable
that we could do better. Nay, if Peschiera
fears that I shall be restored to my country,
and I learn the wherefore, and the ground to
take, through this young man—why, gratitude
is the first virtue of the noble!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You speak, then, of Mr. Leslie?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"To be sure—of whom else?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Mrs. Riccabocca leaned her cheek on her
hand thoughtfully. "Now you have told
me <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">that</span></span>, I will observe him with different
eyes."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Anima mia</span></span>, I don't see how the difference
of your eyes will alter the object they
look upon!" grumbled Riccabocca, shaking
the ashes out of his pipe.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The object alters when we see it in a
different point of view!" replied Jemima,
modestly. "This thread does very well
when I look at it in order to sew on a button,
but I should say it would never do to tie up
Pompey in his kennel."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Reasoning by illustration, upon my soul!"
ejaculated Riccabocca, amazed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And," continued Jemima, "when I am
to regard one who is to constitute the happiness
of that dear child, and for life, can I regard
him as I would the pleasant guest of an
evening? Ah, trust me, Alphonso—I don't
pretend to be wise like you—but, when a
woman considers what a man is likely to
prove to woman—his sincerity—his honor—his<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page242">[pg 242]</span><a name="Pg242" id="Pg242" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
heart—oh, trust me, she is wiser than the
wisest man!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Riccabocca continued to gaze on Jemima
with unaffected admiration and surprise.
And, certainly, to use his phrase, since he
had unbosomed himself to his better half—since
he had confided in her, consulted with
her, her sense had seemed to quicken—her
whole mind to expand.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My dear," said the sage, "I vow and declare
that Machiavelli was a fool to you.
And I have been as dull as the chair I sit
upon, to deny myself so many years the
comfort and counsel of such a—but <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">corpo
di Baccho!</span></span> forget all about rank; and so
now to bed."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"One must not holloa till one's out of the
wood," muttered the ungrateful, suspicious
villain, as he lighted the chamber candle.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc85" id="toc85"></a>
<a name="pdf86" id="pdf86"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER III.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Riccabocca could not confine himself to
the precincts within the walls to which he
condemned Violante. Resuming his spectacles,
and wrapped in his cloak, he occasionally
sallied forth upon a kind of outwatch or reconnoitring
expedition—restricting himself,
however, to the immediate neighborhood, and
never going quite out of sight of his house.
His favorite walk was to the summit of a
hillock overgrown with stunted bushwood.
Here he would seat himself musingly, often
till the hoofs of Randal's horse rang on the
winding road, as the sun set, over fading herbage,
red and vaporous, in autumnal skies. Just
below the hillock, and not two hundred yards
from his own house, was the only other habitation
in view—a charming, thoroughly English
cottage, though somewhat imitated from
the Swiss—with gable ends, thatched roof,
and pretty projecting casements, opening
through creepers and climbing roses. From
his height he commanded the gardens of this
cottage, and his eye of artist was pleased,
from the first sight, with the beauty which
some exquisite taste had given to the ground.
Even in that cheerless season of the year, the
garden wore a summer smile; the evergreens
were so bright and various, and the few flowers,
still left, so hardy and so healthful. Facing
the south, a colonnade, or covered gallery,
of rustic woodwork had been formed, and
creeping plants, lately set, were already beginning
to clothe its columns. Opposite to
this colonnade there was a fountain which
reminded Riccabocca of his own at the deserted
Casino. It was indeed singularly like
it: the same circular shape, the same girdle
of flowers around it. But the jet from it varied
every day—fantastic and multiform, like
the sports of a Naïad—sometimes shooting
up like a tree, sometimes shaped as a convolvulus,
sometimes tossing from its silver spray
a flower of vermilion, or a fruit of gold—as
if at play with its toy like a happy child. And
near the fountain was a large aviary, large
enough to inclose a tree. The Italian could
just catch a gleam of rich color from the
wings of the birds, as they glanced to and
fro within the network, and could hear their
songs, contrasting the silence of the free populace
of air, whom the coming winter had
already stilled.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Riccabocca's eye, so alive to all aspects of
beauty, luxuriated in the view of this garden.
Its pleasantness had a charm that stole him
from his anxious fear and melancholy memories.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">He never saw but two forms within the
demesnes, and he could not distinguish their
features. One was a woman, who seemed to
him of staid manner and homely appearance:
she was seen but rarely. The other a man,
often pacing to and fro the colonnade, with
frequent pauses before the playful fountain,
or the birds that sang louder as he approached.
This latter form would then disappear
within a room, the glass door of which was
at the extreme end of the colonnade; and if
the door were left open, Riccabocca could
catch a glimpse of the figure bending over a
table covered with books.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Always, however, before the sun set, the
man would step forth more briskly, and occupy
himself with the garden, often working
at it with good heart, as if at a task of delight;
and then, too, the woman would come
out, and stand by as if talking to her companion.
Riccabocca's curiosity grew aroused.
He bade Jemima inquire of the old maid-servant
who lived at the cottage, and heard that
its owner was a Mr. Oran—a quiet gentleman,
and fond of his book.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While Riccabocca thus amused himself,
Randal had not been prevented, either by his
official cares or his schemes on Violante's
heart and fortune, from furthering the project
that was to unite Frank Hazeldean and
Beatrice di Negra. Indeed, as to the first, a
ray of hope was sufficient to fire the ardent
and unsuspecting lover. And Randal's artful
misrepresentation of Mrs. Hazeldean's conversation
with him, removed all fear of parental
displeasure from a mind always too disposed
to give itself up to the temptation of
the moment. Beatrice, though her feelings
for Frank were not those of love, became
more and more influenced by Randal's arguments
and representations, the more especially
as her brother grew morose, and even
menacing, as days slipt on, and she could give
no clue to the retreat of those whom he
sought for. Her debts, too, were really urgent.
As Randal's profound knowledge of
human infirmity had shrewdly conjectured,
the scruples of honor and pride, that had
made her declare she would not bring to a
husband her own incumbrances, began to
yield to the pressure of necessity. She listened
already, with but faint objections, when
Randal urged her not to wait for the uncertain
discovery that was to secure her dowry,
but by a private marriage with Frank escape
at once into freedom and security. While,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page243">[pg 243]</span><a name="Pg243" id="Pg243" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
though he had first held out to young Hazeldean
the inducement of Beatrice's dowry as
reason of self-justification in the eyes of the
Squire, it was still easier to drop that inducement,
which had always rather damped than
fired the high spirit and generous heart of the
poor Guardsman. And Randal could conscientiously
say, that when he had asked the
Squire if he expected fortune with Frank's
bride, the Squire had replied, "I don't care."
Thus encouraged by his friend and his own
heart, and the softening manner of a woman
who might have charmed many a colder, and
fooled many a wiser man, Frank rapidly yielded
to the snares held out for his perdition.
And though as yet he honestly shrank from
proposing to Beatrice or himself a marriage
without the consent, and even the knowledge,
of his parents, yet Randal was quite content
to leave a nature, however good, so thoroughly
impulsive and undisciplined, to the influences
of the first strong passion it had ever
known. Meanwhile, it was easy to dissuade
Frank from even giving a hint to the folks at
home. "For," said the wily and able traitor,
"though we may be sure of Mrs. Hazeldean's
consent, and her power over your father,
when the step is once taken, yet we cannot
count for certain on the Squire—he is so choleric
and hasty. He might hurry to town—see
Madame di Negra, blurt out some compassionate,
rude expressions which would
wake her resentment, and cause her instant
rejection. And it might be too late if he repented
afterwards—as he would be sure to
do."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Meanwhile Randal Leslie gave a dinner at
the Clarendon Hotel (an extravagance most
contrary to his habits), and invited Frank,
Mr. Borrowell, and Baron Levy.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But this house-spider, which glided with
so much ease after its flies, through webs so
numerous and mazy, had yet to amuse Madame
di Negra with assurances that the fugitives
sought for would sooner or later be
discovered. Though Randal baffled and eluded
her suspicion that he was already acquainted
with the exiles, ("the persons he had
thought of were," he said, "quite different
from her description;" and he even presented
to her an old singing-master, and a sallow-faced
daughter, as the Italians who had
caused his mistake), it was necessary for Beatrice
to prove the sincerity of the aid she had
promised to her brother, and to introduce
Randal to the Count. It was no less desirable
to Randal to know, and even win the
confidence of this man—his rival.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The two met at Madame di Negra's house.
There is something very strange, and almost
mesmerical, in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">rapport</span></span> between two evil
natures. Bring two honest men together, and
it is ten to one if they recognize each other
as honest; differences in temper, manner,
even politics, may make each misjudge the
other. But bring together two men, unprincipled
and perverted—men who, if born in
a cellar, would have been food for the hulks
or gallows—and they recognize each other
by instant sympathy. The eyes of Franzini,
Count of Peschiera, and Randal Leslie no
sooner met, than a gleam of intelligence shot
from both. They talked on indifferent subjects—weather,
gossip, politics—what not.
They bowed and they smiled; but, all the
while, each was watching, plumbing the
other's heart; each measuring his strength
with his companion; each inly saying, "This
is a very remarkable rascal; am I a match
for him?" It was at dinner they met; and,
following the English fashion, Madame di
Negra left them alone with their wine.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then, for the first time, Count di Peschiera
cautiously and adroitly made a covered push
towards the object of the meeting.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You have never been abroad, my dear
sir? You must contrive to visit me at Vienna.
I grant the splendor of your London
world; but, honestly speaking, it wants the
freedom of ours—a freedom which unites
gayety with polish. For as your society is
mixed, there are pretension and effort with
those who have no right to be in it, and artificial
condescension and chilling arrogance
with those who have to keep their inferiors
at a certain distance. With us, all being of
fixed rank and acknowledged birth, familiarity
is at once established." "Hence," added
the Count, with his French lively smile—"hence
there is no place like Vienna for
a young man—no place like Vienna for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">bonnes
fortunes</span></span>."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Those make the paradise of the idle," replied
Randal, "but the purgatory of the
busy. I confess frankly to you, my dear
Count, that I have as little of the leisure
which becomes the aspirer to <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">bonnes fortunes</span></span>
as I have the personal graces which obtain
them without an effort;" and he inclined his
head as in compliment.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"So," thought the Count, "woman is not
his weak side. What is?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Morbleu!</span></span> my dear Mr. Leslie—had I
thought as you do some years since, I had
saved myself from many a trouble. After
all, Ambition is the best mistress to woo; for
with her there is always the hope, and never
the possession."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ambition, Count," replied Randal, still
guarding himself in dry sententiousness, "is
the luxury of the rich, and the necessity of
the poor."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Aha," thought the Count, "it comes, as
I anticipated from the first—comes to the
bribe." He passed the wine to Randal, filling
his own glass, and draining it carelessly:
"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Sur mon âme, mon cher</span></span>," said the Count,
"luxury is ever pleasanter than necessity;
and I am resolved at least to give ambition
a trial—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">je vais me réfugier dans le sein du
bonheur domestique</span></span>—a married life and a
settled home. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Peste!</span></span> If it were not for
ambition, one would die of ennui. Apropos,
my dear sir, I have to thank you for promising<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page244">[pg 244]</span><a name="Pg244" id="Pg244" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
my sister your aid in finding a near and
dear kinsman of mine, who has taken refuge
in your country, and hides himself even from
me."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I should be most happy to assist in your
search. As yet, however, I have only to regret
that all my good wishes are fruitless. I
should have thought, however, that a man
of such rank had been easily found, even
through the medium of your own ambassador."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Our own ambassador is no very warm
friend of mine; and the rank would be no
clue, for it is clear that my kinsman has
never assumed it since he quitted his country."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He quitted it, I understand, not exactly
from choice," said Randal, smiling. "Pardon
my freedom and curiosity, but will you
explain to me a little more than I learn from
English rumor (which never accurately reports
upon foreign matters still more notorious),
how a person who had so much to
lose, and so little to win, by revolution, could
put himself into the same crazy boat with a
crew of hare-brained adventurers and visionary
professors?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Professors!" repeated the Count; "I
think you have hit on the very answer to
your question; not but what men of high birth
were as mad as the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">canaille</span></span>. I am the more
willing to gratify your curiosity, since it will
perhaps serve to guide your kind search in my
favor. You must know, then, that my kinsman
was not born the heir to the rank he
obtained. He was but a distant relation to
the head of the house which he afterwards
represented. Brought up in an Italian university,
he was distinguished for his learning
and his eccentricities. There, too, I suppose,
brooding over old wives' tales about freedom,
and so forth, he contracted his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">carbonaro</span></span>,
chimerical notions for the independence of
Italy. Suddenly, by three deaths, he was
elevated, while yet young, to a station and
honors which might have satisfied any man
in his senses. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Que diable!</span></span> what could the
independence of Italy do for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">him</span></span>! He and
I were cousins; we had played together as
boys; but our lives had been separated till
his succession to rank brought us necessarily
together. We became exceedingly intimate.
And you may judge how I loved him," said
the Count, averting his eyes slightly from
Randal's quiet, watchful gaze, "when I add,
that I forgave him for enjoying a heritage
that, but for him, had been mine."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah, you were next heir?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And it is a hard trial to be very near a
great fortune, and yet just miss it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"True," cried Randal, almost impetuously.
The Count now raised his eyes, and again
the two men looked into each other's souls.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Harder still, perhaps," resumed the
Count, after a short pause—"harder still
might it have been to some men to forgive
the rival as well as the heir."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Rival! How?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A lady, who had been destined by her
parents to myself, though we had never, I
own, been formally betrothed, became the
wife of my kinsman."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Did he know of your pretensions?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I do him the justice to say he did not.
He saw and fell in love with the young lady
I speak of. Her parents were dazzled. Her
father sent for me. He apologized—he explained;
he set before me, mildly enough,
certain youthful imprudences or errors of
my own, as an excuse for his change of mind;
and he asked me not only to resign all hope
of his daughter, but to conceal from her new
suitor that I had ever ventured to hope."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And you consented?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I consented."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That was generous. You must indeed
have been much attached to your kinsman.
As a lover I cannot comprehend it; perhaps,
my dear Count, you may enable me to understand
it better—as a man of the world."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well," said the Count, with his most
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">roué</span></span> air, "I suppose we <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">are</span></span> both men of the
world?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Both!</span></span> certainly," replied Randal, just in
the tone which Peachum might have used in
courting the confidence of Lockit.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"As a man of the world, then, I own,"
said the Count, playing with the rings on his
fingers, "that if I could not marry the lady
myself (and that seemed to me clear), it was
very natural that I should wish to see her
married to my wealthy kinsman."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Very natural; it might bring your wealthy
kinsman and yourself still closer together."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"This is really a very clever fellow!"
thought the Count, but he made no direct
reply.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Enfin</span></span>, to cut short a long story, my
cousin afterwards got entangled in attempts,
the failure of which is historically known.
His projects were detected—himself denounced.
He fled, and the Emperor, in sequestrating
his estates, was pleased, with
rare and singular clemency, to permit me, as
his nearest kinsman, to enjoy the revenues
of half those estates during the royal pleasure;
nor was the other half formally confiscated.
It was no doubt his Majesty's desire
not to extinguish a great Italian name; and
if my cousin and his child died in exile, why,
of that name, I, a loyal subject of Austria—I,
Franzini, Count di Peschiera, would become
the representative. Such, in a similar
case, has been sometimes the Russian policy
towards Polish insurgents."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I comprehend perfectly; and I can also
conceive that you, in profiting so largely,
though so justly, by the fall of your kinsman,
may have been exposed to much unpopularity—even
to painful suspicion."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Entre nous, mon cher</span></span>, I care not a stiver
for popularity; and as to suspicion, who is
he that can escape from the calumny of the<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page245">[pg 245]</span><a name="Pg245" id="Pg245" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
envious? But, unquestionably, it would be
most desirable to unite the divided members
of our house; and this union I can now effect,
by the consent of the Emperor to my
marriage with my kinsman's daughter. You
see, therefore, why I have so great an interest
in this research?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"By the marriage articles you could no
doubt secure the retention of the half you
hold; and if you survive your kinsman, you
would enjoy the whole. A most desirable
marriage; and, if made, I suppose that would
suffice to obtain your cousin's amnesty and
grace?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You say it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But even without such marriage, since
the Emperor's clemency has been extended
to so many of the proscribed, it is perhaps
probable that your cousin might be restored?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It once seemed to me possible," said the
Count, reluctantly; "but since I have been
in England, I think not. The recent revolution
in France, the democratic spirit rising in
Europe, tend to throw back the cause of a
proscribed rebel. England swarms with revolutionists;
my cousin's residence in this
country is in itself suspicious. The suspicion
is increased by his strange seclusion. There
are many Italians here who would aver that
they had met with him, and that he was still
engaged in revolutionary projects."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Aver—untruly."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ma foi</span></span>—it comes to the same thing; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">les
absens ont toujours tort</span></span>. I speak to a man of
the world. No; without some such guarantee
for his faith, as his daughter's marriage with
myself would give, his recall is improbable.
By the heaven above us, it shall be <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">impossible</span></span>!"
The Count rose as he said this—rose
as if the mask of simulation had fairly fallen
from the visage of crime—rose tall and towering,
a very image of masculine power and
strength, beside the slight bended form and
sickly face of the intellectual schemer. Randal
was startled; but, rising also, he said
carelessly—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What if this guarantee can no longer be
given?—what if, in despair of return, and in
resignation to his altered fortunes, your cousin
has already married his daughter to some
English suitor?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah, that would indeed be, next to my
own marriage with her, the most fortunate
thing that could happen to myself."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"How? I don't understand!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why, if my cousin has so abjured his
birthright, and forsworn his rank—if this
heritage, which is so dangerous from its
grandeur, pass, in case of his pardon, to some
obscure Englishman—a foreigner—a native
of a country that has no ties with ours—a
country that is the very refuge of levellers
and Carbonari—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">mort dema vie</span></span>—do you think
that such would not annihilate all chance of
my cousin's restoration, and be an excuse even
to the eyes of Italy for formally conferring
the sequestered estates on an Italian? No;
unless, indeed, the girl were to marry an Englishman
of such name and birth and connection
as would in themselves be a guarantee,
(and how in poverty is this likely?) I should
go back to Vienna with a light heart, if I
could say, 'My kinswoman is an Englishman's
wife—shall her children be the heirs
to a house so renowned for its lineage, and so
formidable for its wealth?' <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Parbleu!</span></span> if my
cousin were but an adventurer, or merely a
professor, he had been pardoned long ago.
The great enjoy the honor not to be pardoned
easily."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal fell into deep but brief thought.
The Count observed him, not face to face, but
by the reflection of an opposite mirror. "This
man knows something; this man is deliberating;
this man can help me," thought the
Count.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But Randal said nothing to confirm these
hypotheses. Recovering from his abstraction,
he expressed courteously his satisfaction at
the Count's prospects, either way. "And
since, after all," he added, "you mean so well
to your cousin, it occurs to me that you might
discover him by a very simple English process."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"How?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Advertise that, if he will come to some
place appointed, he will hear of something to
his advantage."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Count shook his head. "He would
suspect me, and not come."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But he was intimate with you. He joined
an insurrection;—you were more prudent.
You did not injure him, though you may have
benefited yourself. Why should he shun
you?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The conspirators forgive none who do not
conspire; besides, to speak frankly, he thought
I injured him."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Could you not conciliate him through his
wife—whom—you resigned to him?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"She is dead—died before he left the country."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, that is unlucky! Still I think an advertisement
might do good. Allow me to reflect
on that subject. Shall we now join Madame la Marquise?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On re-entering the drawing-room, the gentlemen
found Beatrice in full dress, seated by
the fire, and reading so intently that she did
not remark them enter.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What so interests you, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">ma sœur</span></span>?-the
last novel by Balzac, no doubt?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Beatrice started, and, looking up, showed
eyes that were full of tears. "Oh, no! no
picture of miserable, vicious Parisian life.
This is beautiful; there is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">soul</span></span> here."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal took up the book which the Marchesa
laid down; it was the same that had
charmed the circle at Hazeldean—charmed
the innocent and fresh-hearted—charmed
now the wearied and tempted votaress of the
world.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Hum," murmured Randal; "the Parson,
was right. This is power—a sort of a power."</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page246">[pg 246]</span><a name="Pg246" id="Pg246" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"How I should like to know the author!
Who can he be—can you guess?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Not I. Some old pedant in spectacles."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I think not—I am sure not. Here beats
a heart I have ever sighed to find, and never
found."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">naïve enfant</span></span>!" cried the Count;
"<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">comme son imagination s'égare en rêves enchantés</span></span>.
And to think that, while you talk
like an Arcadian, you are dressed like a princess."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah, I forgot—the Austrian ambassador's.
I shall not go to-night. This book unfits me
for the artificial world."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Just as you will, my sister. I shall go. I
dislike the man, and he me; but ceremonies
before men!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You are going to the Austrian Embassy?"
said Randal. "I too shall be there. We shall
meet." And he took his leave.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I like your young friend prodigiously,"
said the Count, yawning. "I am sure that
he knows of the lost birds, and will stand to
them like a pointer, if I can but make it his
interest to do so. We shall see."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc87" id="toc87"></a>
<a name="pdf88" id="pdf88"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER IV.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal arrived at the ambassador's before
the Count, and contrived to mix with the
young noblemen attached to the embassy,
and to whom he was known. Standing among
these was a young Austrian, on his travels,
of very high birth, and with an air of noble
grace that suited the ideal of the old German
chivalry. Randal was presented to him, and,
after some talk on general topics, observed,
"By the way, Prince, there is now in London
a countryman of yours, with whom you are
doubtless familiarly acquainted—the Count di
Peschiera."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He is no countryman of mine. He is an
Italian. I know him but by sight and by
name," said the Prince, stiffly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He is of very ancient birth, I believe."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Unquestionably. His ancestors were gentlemen."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And very rich."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Indeed! I have understood the contrary.
He enjoys, it is true, a large revenue."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A young <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">attaché</span></span>, less discreet than the
Prince, here observed, "Oh, Peschiera!—Poor
fellow, he is too fond of play to be
rich."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And there is some chance that the kinsman
whose revenue he holds, may obtain his
pardon, and re-enter into possession of his fortunes—so
I hear, at least," said Randal, artfully.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I shall be glad if it be true," said the
Prince with decision; "and I speak the common
sentiment at Vienna. That kinsman had
a noble spirit, and was, I believe, equally
duped and betrayed. Pardon me, sir; but we
Austrians are not so bad as we are painted.
Have you ever met in England the kinsman
you speak of?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Never, though he is supposed to reside
here; and the Count tells me that he has a
daughter."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The Count—ha! I heard something of a
scheme—a wager of that—that Count's—a
daughter. Poor girl! I hope she will escape
his pursuit; for, no doubt, he pursues her."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Possibly she may already have married
an Englishman."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I trust not," said the Prince, seriously;
"that might at present be a serious obstacle
to her father's return."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You think so?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"There can be no doubt of it," interposed
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">attaché</span></span> with a grand and positive air;
"unless, indeed, the Englishman were of a
rank equal to her own."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Here there was a slight, well-bred murmur
and buzz at the doors; for the Count di Peschiera
himself was announced; and as he
entered, his presence was so striking, and his
beauty so dazzling, that whatever there might
be to the prejudice of his character, it seemed
instantly effaced or forgotten in that irresistible
admiration which it is the prerogative of
personal attributes alone to create.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Prince, with a slight curve of his lip
at the groups that collected round the Count,
turned to Randal and said, "Can you tell me
if a distinguished countryman of yours is in
England—Lord L'Estrange?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No, Prince—he is not. You know him?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He is acquainted with the Count's kinsman;
and perhaps from him you have learned
to think so highly of that kinsman?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Prince bowed, and answered as he
moved away, "When a man of high honor
vouches for another, he commands the belief
of all."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Certainly," soliloquized Randal, "I must
not be precipitate. I was very nearly falling
into a terrible trap. If I were to marry the
girl, and only, by so doing, settle away her inheritance
on Peschiera!—How hard it is to
be sufficiently cautious in this world!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While thus meditating, a member of Parliament
tapped him on the shoulder.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Melancholy, Leslie! I lay a wager I
guess your thoughts."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Guess," answered Randal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You were thinking of the place you are
so soon to lose."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Soon to lose!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why, if ministers go out, you could hardly
keep it, I suppose."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This ominous and horrid member of Parliament,
Squire Hazeldean's favorite county
member, Sir John, was one of those legislators
especially odious to officials—an independent
"large-acred" member, who would
no more take office himself than he would
cut down the oaks in his park, and who had
no bowels of human feeling for those who
had opposite tastes and less magnificent means.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Hem!" said Randal, rather surlily. "In
the first place, Sir John, ministers are not
going out."</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page247">[pg 247]</span><a name="Pg247" id="Pg247" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh yes, they will go. You know I vote
with them generally, and would willingly
keep them in; but they are men of honor
and spirit; and if they can't carry their
measures, they must resign; otherwise, by
Jove, I would turn round and vote them out
myself!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have no doubt you would, Sir John;
you are quite capable of it; that rests with
you and your constituents. But even if
ministers did go out, I am but a poor subaltern
in a public office. I am no minister—why
should I go out too?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why? Hang it, Leslie, you are laughing
at me. A young fellow like you could never
be mean enough to stay in, under the very
men who drove out your friend Egerton!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is not usual for those in the public
offices to retire with every change of Government."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Certainly not; but always those who are
the relations of a retiring minister—always
those who have been regarded as politicians,
and who mean to enter Parliament, as of
course you will do at the next election. But
you know that as well as I do—you who are
so decided a politician—the writer of that
admirable pamphlet! I should not like to
tell my friend Hazeldean, who has a sincere
interest in you, that you ever doubted on a
question of honor as plain as your A, B, C."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Indeed, Sir John," said Randal, recovering
his suavity, while he inly breathed a dire
anathema on his county member, "I am so
new to these things, that what you say never
struck me before. No doubt you must be
right; at all events, I cannot have a better
guide and adviser than Mr. Egerton himself."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No, certainly—perfect gentleman, Egerton!
I wish we could make it up with him
and Hazeldean."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Randal</span></span>, (sighing)—"Ah, I wish we could!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Sir John.</span></span>—"And some chance of it now;
for the time is coming when all true men of
the old school must stick together."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Randal.</span></span>—"Wisely, and admirably said, my
dear Sir John. But, pardon me, I must pay
my respects to the ambassador."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal escaped, and, passing on, saw the
ambassador himself in the next room, conferring
in a corner with Audley Egerton. The
ambassador seemed very grave—Egerton
calm and impenetrable, as usual. Presently
the Count passed by, and the ambassador
bowed to him very stiffly. As Randal, some
time later, was searching for his cloak below,
Audley Egerton unexpectedly joined him.
"Ah, Leslie," said the minister, with more
kindness than usual, "if you don't think the
night air too cold for you, let us walk home
together. I have sent away the carriage."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This condescension in his patron was so
singular that it quite startled Randal, and
gave him a presentiment of some evil. When
they were in the street, Egerton, after a
pause, began—"My dear Mr. Leslie, it was
my hope and belief that I had provided for
you at least a competence; and that I might
open to you, later, a career yet more brilliant.
Hush! I don't doubt your gratitude; let me
proceed. There is a possible chance, after
certain decisions that the Government have
come to, that we may be beaten in the House
of Commons, and of course resign. I tell
you this beforehand, for I wish you to have
time to consider what, in that case, would be
your best course. My power of serving you
would then probably be over. It would, no
doubt (seeing our close connection, and my
views with regard to your future being so
well known)—be expected that you should
give up the place you hold, and follow my
fortunes for good or ill. But as I have no
personal enemies with the opposite party—and
as I have sufficient position in the world
to uphold and sanction your choice, whatever
it may be, if you think it more prudent to
retain your place, tell me so openly, and I
think I can contrive that you may do it without
loss of character and credit. In that
case confine your ambition merely to rising
gradually in your office, without mixing in
politics. If, on the other hand, you should
prefer to take your chance of my return to
office, and so resign your own; and, furthermore,
should commit yourself to a policy
that may then be not only in opposition, but
unpopular; I will do my best to introduce
you into parliamentary life. I cannot say
that I advise the latter."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal felt as a man feels after a severe
fall—he was literally stunned. At length he
faltered out—"Can you think, sir, that I
should ever desert your fortunes—your party—your
cause?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My dear Leslie," replied the minister,
"you are too young to have committed yourself
to any men or to any party, except, indeed,
in that unlucky pamphlet. This must
not be an affair of sentiment, but of sense
and reflection. Let us say no more on the
point now; but, by considering the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pros</span></span> and
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">cons</span></span>, you can better judge what to do, should
the time for option suddenly arrive."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But I hope that time may not come."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I hope so too, and most sincerely," said
the minister, with deliberate and genuine
emphasis.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"What could be so bad for the country?"
ejaculated Randal. "It does not seem to
me possible in the nature of things, that you
and your party should ever go out."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And when we are once out, there will be
plenty of wiseacres to say it is out of the
nature of things that we should ever come
in again. Here we are at the door."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc89" id="toc89"></a>
<a name="pdf90" id="pdf90"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER V.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Randal passed a sleepless night; but, indeed,
he was one of those persons who neither
need, nor are accustomed to much sleep.
However, towards morning, when dreams
are said to be prophetic, he fell into a most
delightful slumber—a slumber peopled by<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page248">[pg 248]</span><a name="Pg248" id="Pg248" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
visions fitted to lure on, through labyrinths of
law, predestined chancellors, or wreck upon
the rocks of glory the inebriate souls of youthful
ensigns—dreams from which Rood Hall
emerged crowned with the towers of Belvoir
or Raby, and looking over subject lands and
manors wrested from the nefarious usurpation
of Thornhills and Hazeldeans—dreams in
which Audley Egerton's gold and power—rooms
in Downing Street, and saloons in
Grosvenor Square—had passed away to the
smiling dreamer, as the empire of Chaldæa
passed to Darius the Median. Why visions
so belying the gloomy and anxious thoughts
that preceded them should visit the pillow of
Randal Leslie, surpasses my philosophy to
conjecture. He yielded, however, passively
to their spell, and was startled to hear the
clock strike eleven as he descended the stairs
to breakfast. He was vexed at the lateness
of the hour, for he had meant to have taken
advantage of the unwonted softness of Egerton,
and drawn therefrom some promises or
proffers to cheer the prospects which the minister
had so chillingly expanded before him
the preceding night. And it was only at
breakfast that he usually found the opportunity
of private conference with his busy patron.
But Audley Egerton would be sure to
have sallied forth—and so he had—only Randal
was surprised to hear that he had gone
out in his carriage, instead of on foot, as was
his habit. Randal soon despatched his solitary
meal, and with a new and sudden affection
for his office, thitherward bent his way.
As he passed through Piccadilly, he heard
behind a voice that had lately become familiar
to him, and turning round, saw Baron
Levy walking side by side, though not arm-in-arm,
with a gentleman almost as smart as
himself, but with a jauntier step and a brisker
air—a step that, like Diomed's, as described
by Shakspeare—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Rises on the toe—that spirit of his</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">In aspiration lifts him from the earth."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Indeed, one may judge of the spirits and disposition
of a man by his ordinary gait and
mien in walking. He who habitually pursues
abstract thought, looks down on the ground.
He who is accustomed to sudden impulses, or
is trying to seize upon some necessary recollection,
looks up with a kind of jerk. He
who is a steady, cautious, merely practical
man, walks on deliberately, his eyes straight
before him; and even in his most musing
moods observes things around sufficiently to
avoid a porter's knot or a butcher's tray.—But
the man with strong ganglions—of pushing
lively temperament, who, though practical,
is yet speculative—the man who is emulous
and active, and ever trying to rise in
life—sanguine, alert, bold—walks with a
spring—looks rather above the heads of his
fellow-passengers—but with a quick, easy
turn of his own, which is lightly set on his
shoulders; his mouth is a little open—his eye
is bright, rather restless, but penetrative—his
port has something of defiance—his form is
erect, but without stiffness. Such was the
appearance of the Baron's companion. And
as Randal turned round at Levy's voice, the
Baron said to his companion, "A young man
in the first circles—you should book him for
your fair lady's parties. How d'ye do, Mr.
Leslie? Let me introduce you to Mr. Richard
Avenel." Then, as he hooked his arm
into Randal's, he whispered, "Man of first-rate
talent—monstrously rich—has two or
three parliamentary seats in his pocket—wife
gives parties—her foible."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Proud to make your acquaintance, sir,"
said Mr. Avenel, lifting his hat. "Fine day."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Rather cold, too," said Leslie, who, like
all thin persons with weak digestion, was
chilly by temperament; besides, he had
enough on his mind to chill his body.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"So much the healthier,—braces the
nerves," said Mr. Avenel; "but you young
fellows relax the system by hot rooms and
late hours. Fond of dancing, of course, sir?"
Then, without waiting for Randal's negative,
Mr. Richard continued rapidly, "Mrs. Avenel
has a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">soirée dansante</span></span> on Thursday—shall
be very happy to see you in Eaton Square.
Stop, I have a card;" and he drew out a
dozen large invitation cards, from which he
selected one and presented it to Randal.—The
Baron pressed that young gentleman's
arm, and Randal replied courteously that it
would give him great pleasure to be introduced
to Mrs. Avenel. Then, as he was not
desirous to be seen under the wing of Baron
Levy, like a pigeon under that of a hawk, he
gently extricated himself, and, pleading great
haste, walked quickly on towards his office.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"That young man will make a figure some
day," said the Baron. "I don't know any
one of his age with so few prejudices. He is
a connection by marriage to Audley Egerton,
who"—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Audley Egerton!" exclaimed Mr. Avenel;
"d
ungrateful fellow?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why, what do you know of him?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"He owed his first seat in Parliament to
the votes of two near relations of mine, and
when I called upon him some time ago, in
his office, he absolutely ordered me out of the
room. Hang his impertinence; if ever I can
pay him off, I guess I shan't fail for want of
good will!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ordered you out of the room? That's
not like Egerton, who is civil, if formal—at
least, to most men. You must have offended
him in his weak point."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"A man whom the public pays so handsomely
should have no weak point. What is
Egerton's?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Oh, he values himself on being a thorough
gentleman—a man of the nicest honor," said
Levy with a sneer. "You must have ruffled
his plumes there. How was it?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I forget now," answered Mr. Avenel,
who was far too well versed in the London<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page249">[pg 249]</span><a name="Pg249" id="Pg249" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
scale of human dignities since his marriage,
not to look back with a blush at his desire of
knighthood. "No use bothering our heads
now about the plumes of an arrogant popinjay.
To return to the subject we were discussing.
You must be sure to let me have
this money next week."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Rely upon it."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And you'll not let my bills get into the
market; keep them under lock and key."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"So we agreed."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is but a temporary difficulty—royal
mourning, such nonsense—panic in trade,
lest these precious ministers go out. I shall
soon float over the troubled waters."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"By the help of a paper boat," said the
Baron, laughing; and the two gentlemen
shook hands and parted.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc91" id="toc91"></a>
<a name="pdf92" id="pdf92"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER VI.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Meanwhile Audley Egerton's carriage had
deposited him at the door of Lord Lansmere's
house, at Knightsbridge. He asked for the
Countess, and was shown into the drawing-room,
which was deserted. Egerton was
paler than usual; and, as the door opened,
he wiped the unwonted moisture from his
forehead, and there was a quiver in his firm
lip. The Countess, too, on entering, showed
an emotion almost equally unusual to her
self-control. She pressed Audley's hand in
silence, and seating herself by his side, seemed
to collect her thoughts. At length she
said: "It is rarely indeed that we meet, Mr.
Egerton, in spite of your intimacy with Lansmere
and Harley. I go so little into your
world, and you will not voluntarily come to
me."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Madam," replied Egerton, "I might evade
your kind reproach by stating that my hours
are not at my disposal; but I answer you
with plain truth—it must be painful to both
of us to meet."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Countess colored and sighed, but did
not dispute the assertion. Audley resumed.
"And therefore, I presume, that on sending
for me, you have something of moment to
communicate."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It relates to Harley," said the Countess,
as if in apology; "and I would take your advice."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"To Harley! speak on, I beseech you."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My son has probably told you that he
has educated and reared a young girl, with
the intention to make her Lady L'Estrange,
and hereafter Countess of Lansmere."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Harley has no secrets from me," said
Egerton, mournfully.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"This young lady has arrived in England—is
here—in this house."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And Harley too?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No, she came over with Lady N
her daughters. Harley was to follow shortly,
and I expect him daily. Here is his letter.
Observe, he has never yet communicated his
intentions to this young person, now intrusted
to my care—never spoken to her as the lover."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Egerton took the letter and read it rapidly,
though with attention.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"True," said he, as he returned the letter:
"and before he does so, he wishes you to see
Miss Digby and to judge of her yourself—wishes
to know if you will approve and sanction
his choice."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is on this that I would consult you—a
girl without rank;—the father, it is true, a
gentleman, though almost equivocally one,—but
the mother, I know not what. And
Harley for whom I hoped an alliance with
the first houses in England!" The Countess
pressed her hands convulsively together.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Egerton.</span></span>—"He is no more a boy. His talents
have been wasted—his life a wanderer's.
He presents to you a chance of re-settling his
mind, of re-arousing his native powers, of a
home besides your own. Lady Lansmere,
you cannot hesitate!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lady Lansmere.</span></span>—"I do, I do! After all
that I have hoped, after all that I did to prevent"—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Egerton</span></span> (interrupting her).—"You owe
him now an atonement: that is in your power—it
is not in mine."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Countess again pressed Audley's hand,
and the tears gushed from her eyes. "It
shall be so. I consent—I consent. I will silence,
I will crush back this proud heart.
Alas! it wellnigh broke his own! I am glad
you speak thus. I like to think he owes my
consent to you. In that there is atonement
for both—both."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You are too generous, madam," said
Egerton, evidently moved, though still, as
ever, striving to repress emotion. "And
may I see the young lady? This conference
pains me; you see even my strong nerves
quiver; and at this time I have much to go
through—need of all my strength and firmness."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I hear, indeed, that the government will
probably retire. But it is with honor: it will
be soon called back by the voice of the nation."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Let me see the future wife of Harley
L'Estrange," said Egerton, without heed of
this consolatory exclamation.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Countess rose and left the room. In
a few minutes she returned with Helen Digby.
Helen was wondrously improved from
the pale, delicate child, with the soft smile
and intelligent eyes, who had sat by the side
of Leonard in his garret. She was about the
middle height, still slight but beautifully
formed; that exquisite roundness of proportion,
which conveys so well the idea of woman,
in its undulating pliant grace—formed
to embellish life, and soften away its rude
angles—formed to embellish, not to protect.
Her face might not have satisfied the critical
eye of an artist—it was not without defects
in regularity; but its expression was eminently
gentle and prepossessing; and there
were few who would not have exclaimed,
"What a lovely countenance!" The mildness
of her brow was touched with melancholy—her<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page250">[pg 250]</span><a name="Pg250" id="Pg250" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
childhood had left its traces on
her youth. Her step was slow, and her manner
shy, subdued, and timid. Audley gazed
on her with earnestness as she approached
him; and then coming forward, took her
hand and kissed it. "I am your guardian's
constant friend," said he; and he drew her
gently to a seat beside him, in the recess of a
window. With a quick glance of his eye towards
the Countess, he seemed to imply the
wish to converse with Helen somewhat apart.
So the Countess interpreted the glance; and
though she remained in the room, she seated
herself at a distance, and bent over a book.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It was touching to see how the austere
man of business lent himself to draw forth
the mind of this quiet, shrinking girl; and if
you had listened, you would have comprehended
how he came to possess such social
influence, and how well, some time or other
in the course of his life, he had learned to
adapt himself to women. He spoke first of
Harley L'Estrange—spoke with tact and delicacy.
Helen at first answered by monosyllables,
and then, by degrees, with grateful
and open affection. Audley's brow grew
shaded. He then spoke of Italy; and though
no man had less of the poet in his nature,
yet, with the dexterity of one long versed in
the world, and who has been accustomed to
extract evidences from characters most opposed
to his own, he suggested such topics as
might serve to arouse poetry in others. Helen's
replies betrayed a cultivated taste, and a
charming womanly mind; but they betrayed
also one accustomed to take its colorings from
another's—to appreciate, admire, revere the
Lofty and the Beautiful, but humbly and
meekly. There was no vivid enthusiasm, no
remark of striking originality, no flash of the
self-kindling, creative faculty. Lastly, Egerton
turned to England—to the critical nature
of the times—to the claims which the country
possessed upon all who had the ability to
serve and guide its troubled destinies. He
enlarged warmly on Harley's natural talents,
and rejoiced that he had returned to England,
perhaps to commence some great career.
Helen looked surprised, but her face
caught no correspondent glow from Audley's
eloquence. He rose, and an expression of
disappointment passed over his grave, handsome
features, and as quickly vanished.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Adieu! my dear Miss Digby; I fear I
have wearied you, especially with my politics.
Adieu, Lady Lansmere; no doubt I
shall see Harley as soon as he returns."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then he hastened from the room, gained
his carriage, and ordered the coachman to
drive to Downing-street. He drew down the
blinds, and leant back. A certain languor became
visible in his face, and once or twice he
mechanically put his hand to his heart.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"She is good, amiable, docile—will make
an excellent wife, no doubt," said he, murmuringly.
"But does she love Harley as he
has dreamed of love? No! Has she the
power and energy to arouse his faculties, and
restore to the world the Harley of old? No!
Meant by heaven to be the shadow of another's
sun—not herself the sun—this child is
not the one who can atone for the Past and
illume the Future."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc93" id="toc93"></a>
<a name="pdf94" id="pdf94"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER VII.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">That evening Harley L'Estrange arrived at
his father's house. The few years that had
passed since we saw him last, had made no
perceptible change in his appearance. He
still preserved his elastic youthfulness of form,
and singular variety and play of countenance.
He seemed unaffectedly rejoiced to greet his
parents, and had something of the gayety
and the tenderness of a boy returned from
school. His manner to Helen bespoke the
chivalry that pervaded all the complexities
and curves of his character. It was affectionate
but respectful. Hers to him, subdued—but
innocently sweet and gently cordial.
Harley was the chief talker. The aspect of
the times was so critical, that he could not
avoid questions on politics; and, indeed, he
showed an interest in them which he had never
evinced before. Lord Lansmere was delighted.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why, Harley, you love your country, after
all?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"The moment she seems in danger—yes!"
replied the Patrician; and the Sybarite seemed
to rise into the Athenian.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then he asked with eagerness about his old
friend Audley; and, his curiosity satisfied
there, he inquired the last literary news. He
had heard much of a book lately published.
He named the one ascribed by Parson Dale
to Professor Moss; none of his listeners had
read it. Harley pished at this, and accused
them all of indolence and stupidity in his own
quaint, metaphorical style. Then he said—"And
town gossip?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"We never hear it," said Lady Lansmere.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"There is a new plough much talked of at
Boodle's," said Lord Lansmere.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"God speed it. But is there not a new
man much talked of at White's?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I don't belong to White's."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Nevertheless, you may have heard of him—a
foreigner, a Count di Peschiera."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Yes," said Lord Lansmere; "he was
pointed out to me in the Park—a handsome
man for a foreigner; wears his hair properly
cut; looks gentlemanlike and English."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ah, ah! He is here then!" And Harley
rubbed his hands.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Which road did you take? Did you pass
the Simplon?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No; I came straight from Vienna."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Then, relating with lively vein his adventures
by the way, he continued to delight
Lord Lansmere by his gayety till the time
came to retire to rest. As soon as Harley
was in his own room, his mother joined him.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Well," said he, "I need not ask if you
like Miss Digby? Who would not?"</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page251">[pg 251]</span><a name="Pg251" id="Pg251" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Harley, my own son," said the mother,
bursting into tears, "be happy your own way;
only be happy; that is all I ask."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Harley, much affected, replied gratefully
and soothingly to this fond injunction. And
then gradually leading his mother on to converse
of Helen, asked abruptly—"And of the
chance of our happiness—her happiness
well as mine—what is your opinion? Speak
frankly."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">her</span></span> happiness, there can be no doubt,"
replied the mother proudly. "Of yours, how
can you ask me? Have you not decided on
that yourself?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"But still it cheers and encourages one in
any experiment, however well considered, to
hear the approval of another. Helen has certainly
a most gentle temper."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I should conjecture so. But her mind—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Is very well stored."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"She speaks so little—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Yes. I wonder why? She's surely a
woman!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Pshaw," said the Countess, smiling in
spite of herself. "But tell me more of the
process of your experiment. You took her
as a child, and resolved to train her according
to your own ideal. Was that easy?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It seemed so. I desired to instil habits
of truth—she was already by nature truthful
as the day; a taste for nature and all things
natural—that seemed inborn: perceptions of
Art as the interpreter of Nature—those were
more difficult to teach. I think they may
come. You have heard her play and sing?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"She will surprise you. She has less talent
for drawing; still, all that teaching could do
has been done—in a word, she is accomplished.
Temper, heart, mind—these are all excellent."
Harley stopped, and suppressed a
sigh. "Certainly, I ought to be very happy,"
said he; and he began to wind up his watch.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Of course she must love you?" said the
Countess, after a pause. "How could she
fail?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Love me! My dear mother, that is the
very question I shall have to ask."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Ask! Love is discovered by a glance;
it has no need of asking."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I have never discovered it, then, I assure
you. The fact is, that before her childhood
was passed, I removed her, as you may suppose,
from my roof. She resided with an
Italian family, near my usual abode. I visited
her often, directed her studies, watched
her improvement—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"And fell in love with her?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Fall is such a very violent word. No;
I don't remember to have had a fall. It was
all a smooth inclined plane from the first step,
until at last I said to myself, 'Harley L'Estrange,
thy time has come. The bud has blossomed
into flower. Take it to thy breast.'
And myself replied to myself meekly, 'So be
it.' Then I found that Lady N
daughters, was coming to England. I asked
her Ladyship to take my ward to your house.
I wrote to you, and prayed your assent; and,
that granted, I knew you would obtain my
father's. I am here—you give me the approval
I sought for. I will speak to Helen
to-morrow. Perhaps, after all, she may reject
me."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Strange, strange—you speak thus coldly,
thus lightly; you so capable of ardent love!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Mother," said Harley, earnestly, "be satisfied!
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">I</span></span> am! Love, as of old, I feel, alas!
too well, can visit me never more. But gentle
companionship, tender friendship, the relief
and the sunlight of woman's smile—hereafter
the voices of children—music that, striking
on the hearts of both parents, wakens the
most lasting and the purest of all sympathies:
these are my hope. Is the hope so mean, my
fond mother?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Again the Countess wept, and her tears
were not dried when she left the room.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
<a name="toc95" id="toc95"></a>
<a name="pdf96" id="pdf96"></a>
<h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">CHAPTER VIII.</span></h2>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Oh! Helen, fair Helen—type of the quiet,
serene, unnoticed, deep-felt excellence of
woman! Woman, less as the ideal that a
poet conjures from the air, than as the companion
of a poet on the earth! Woman who,
with her clear sunny vision of things actual,
and the exquisite fibre of her delicate sense,
supplies the deficiencies of him whose foot
stumbles on the soil, because his eye is too
intent upon the stars! Woman, the provident,
the comforting angel—whose pinions
are folded round the heart, guarding there a
divine spring unmarred by the winter of the
world! Helen, soft Helen, is it indeed in
thee that the wild and brilliant "lord of
wantonness and ease" is to find the regeneration
of his life—the rebaptism of his soul?
Of what avail thy meek prudent household
virtues to one whom Fortune screens from
rough trial?—whose sorrows lie remote from
thy ken?—whose spirit, erratic and perturbed,
now rising, now falling, needs a vision
more subtle than thine to pursue, and a
strength that can sustain the reason, when it
droops, on the wings of enthusiasm and passion?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And thou thyself, O nature, shrinking and
humble, that needest to be courted forth
from the shelter, and developed under the
calm and genial atmosphere of holy, happy
love—can such affection as Harley L'Estrange
may proffer suffice to thee? Will not the
blossoms, yet folded in the petal, wither
away beneath the shade that may protect
them from the storm, and yet shut them from
the sun? Thou who, where thou givest love,
seekest, though meekly, for love in return;
—to be the soul's sweet necessity, the life's
household partner to him who receives all
thy faith and devotion—canst thou influence
the sources of joy and of sorrow in the
heart that does not heave at thy name?
Hast thou the charm and the force of the
moon, that the tides of that wayward sea<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page252">[pg 252]</span><a name="Pg252" id="Pg252" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
shall ebb and flow at thy will? Yet who
shall say—who conjecture how near two
hearts may become, when no guilt lies between
them, and time brings the ties all its
own? Rarest of all things on earth is the
union in which both, by their contrasts, make
harmonious their blending; each supplying
the defects of the helpmate, and completing,
by fusion, one strong human soul! Happiness
enough, where even Peace does but seldom
preside, when each can bring to the
altar, if not, the flame, still the incense.
Where man's thoughts are all noble and
generous, woman's feelings all gentle and
pure, love may follow, if it does not precede;—and
if not,—if the roses be missed from
the garland, one may sigh for the rose, but
one is safe from the thorn.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The morning was mild, yet somewhat
overcast by tho mists which announce coming
winter in London, and Helen walked musingly
beneath the trees that surrounded the garden
of Lord Lansmere's house. Many leaves
were yet left on the boughs; but they were
sere and withered. And the birds chirped
at times; but their note was mournful and
complaining. All within this house, until
Harley's arrival, had been strange and saddening
to Helen's timid and subdued spirits.
Lady Lansmere had received her kindly, but
with a certain restraint; and the loftiness of
manner, common to the Countess with all but
Harley, had awed and chilled the diffident
orphan. Lady Lansmere's very interest in
Harley's choice—her attempts to draw Helen
out of her reserve—her watchful eyes whenever
Helen shyly spoke, or shyly moved,
frightened the poor child, and made her unjust
to herself.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The very servants, though staid, grave,
and respectful, as suited a dignified, old-fashioned
household, painfully contrasted the
bright welcoming smiles and free talk of Italian
domestics. Her recollections of the
happy warm Continental manner, which so
sets the bashful at their ease, made the stately
and cold precision of all around her doubly
awful and dispiriting. Lord Lansmere himself,
who did not as yet know the views of
Harley, and little dreamed that he was to anticipate
a daughter-in-law in the ward whom
he understood Harley, in a freak of generous
romance had adopted, was familiar and courteous,
as became a host. But he looked upon
Helen as a mere child, and naturally left her
to the Countess. The dim sense of her equivocal
position—of her comparative humbleness
of birth and fortunes, oppressed and
pained her; and even her gratitude to Harley
was made burthensome by a sentiment of
helplessness. The grateful long to requite.
And what could she ever do for him?</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Thus musing, she wandered alone through
the curving walks; and this sort of mock
country landscape—London loud, and even
visible, beyond the high gloomy walls, and
no escape from the windows of the square
formal house—seemed a type of the prison
bounds of Rank to one whose soul yearns
for simple loving Nature.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Helen's reverie was interrupted by Nero's
joyous bark. He had caught sight of her,
and came bounding up, and thrust his large
head into her hand. As she stooped to
caress the dog, happy at his honest greeting,
and tears that had been long gathering to
the lids fell silently on his face, (for I know
nothing that more moves us to tears than
the hearty kindness of a dog, when something
in human beings has pained or chilled
us,) she heard behind the musical voice of
Harley. Hastily she dried or repressed her
tears, as her guardian came up, and drew her
arm within his own.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I had so little of your conversation last
evening, my dear ward, that I may well monopolize
you now, even to the privation of
Nero. And so you are once more in your
native land?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Helen sighed softly.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"May I not hope that you return under
fairer auspices than those which your childhood
knew?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Helen turned her eyes with ingenuous
thankfulness to her guardian, and the memory
of all she owed to him rushed upon
her heart. Harley renewed, and with earnest
though melancholy sweetness—"Helen,
your eyes thank me; but hear me before
your words do. I deserve no thanks. I am
about to make to you a strange confession of
egotism and selfishness."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You!—oh, impossible!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Judge yourself, and then decide which of
us shall have cause to be grateful. Helen,
when I was scarcely your age—a boy in
years, but more, methinks, a man at heart,
with man's strong energies and sublime aspirings,
than I have ever since been—I loved,
and deeply—" He paused a moment in evident
struggle. Helen listened in mute surprise,
but his emotion awakened her own;
her tender woman's heart yearned to console.
Unconsciously her arm rested on his
less lightly. "Deeply, and for sorrow. It is
a long tale, that may be told hereafter. The
worldly would call my love a madness. I
did not reason on it then—I cannot reason
on it now. Enough; death smote suddenly,
terribly, and to me mysteriously, her whom
I loved. The love lived on. Fortunately,
perhaps, for me, I had quick distraction, not
to grief, but to its inert indulgence. I was a
soldier; I joined our armies. Men called me
brave. Flattery! I was a coward before
the thought of life. I sought death: like
sleep, it does not come at our call. Peace ensued.
As when the winds fall the sails droop—so
when excitement ceased, all seemed to
me flat and objectless. Heavy, heavy was
my heart. Perhaps grief had been less obstinate,
but that I feared I had cause for
self-reproach. Since then I have been a
wanderer—a self-made exile. My boyhood<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page253">[pg 253]</span><a name="Pg253" id="Pg253" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
had been ambitious—all ambition ceased.
Flames, when they reach the core of the
heart, spread, and leave all in ashes. Let
me be brief: I did not mean thus weakly to
complain—I to whom heaven has given so
many blessings! I felt, as it were, separated
from the common objects and joys of men.
I grew startled to see how, year by year,
wayward humors possessed me. I resolved
again to attach myself to some living heart—it
was my sole chance to rekindle my own.
But the one I had loved remained as my type
of woman, and she was different from all I
saw. Therefore I said to myself, 'I will rear
from childhood some young fresh life, to
grow up into my ideal.' As this thought began
to haunt me, I chanced to discover you.
Struck with the romance of your early life,
touched by your courage, charmed by your
affectionate nature, I said to myself, 'Here is
what I seek.' Helen, in assuming the guardianship
of your life, in all the culture which
I have sought to bestow on your docile childhood,
I repeat, that I have been but the egotist.
And now, when you have reached that
age, when it becomes me to speak, and you
to listen—now, when you are under the sacred
roof of my own mother—now I ask you,
can you accept this heart, such as wasted
years, and griefs too fondly nursed, have left
it? Can you be, at least, my comforter?
Can you aid me to regard life as a duty, and
recover those aspirations which once soared
from the paltry and miserable confines of our
frivolous daily being? Helen, here I ask you,
can you be all this, and under the name of—Wife?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It would be in vain to describe the rapid,
varying, indefinable emotions that passed
through the inexperienced heart of the youthful
listener as Harley thus spoke. He so
moved all the springs of amaze, compassion,
tender respect, sympathy, childlike gratitude,
that when he paused and gently took
her hand, she remained bewildered, speechless,
overpowered. Harley smiled as he gazed
upon her blushing, downcast, expressive face.
He conjectured at once that the idea of such
proposals had never crossed her mind; that
she had never contemplated him in the character
of a wooer; never even sounded her
heart as to the nature of such feelings as his
image had aroused.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My Helen," he resumed, with a calm pathos
of voice, "there is some disparity of years
between us, and perhaps I may not hope
henceforth for that love which youth gives
to the young. Permit me simply to ask, what
you will frankly answer—Can you have seen
in our quiet life abroad, or under the roof of our
Italian friends, any one you prefer to me?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"No, indeed, no!" murmured Helen. "How
could I!—who is like you?" Then, with a
sudden effort—for her innate truthfulness
took alarm, and her very affection for Harley,
childlike and reverent, made her tremble lest
she should deceive him—she drew a little
aside, and spoke thus: "Oh, my dear guardian,
noblest of all human beings, at least in
my eyes, forgive, forgive me if I seem ungrateful,
hesitating; but I cannot, cannot
think of myself as worthy of you. I never so
lifted my eyes. Your rank, your position—"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Why should they be eternally my curse?
Forget them and go on."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"It is not only they," said Helen, almost
sobbing, "though they are much; but I your
type, your ideal!—I!—impossible! Oh, how
can I ever be any thing even of use, of aid, of
comfort to one like you!"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"You can, Helen—you can," cried Harley,
charmed by such ingenuous modesty. "May
I not keep this hand?"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">And Helen left her hand in Harley's, and
turned away her face, fairly weeping. A
stately step passed under the wintry trees.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"My mother," said Harley L'Estrange, looking
up, "I present to you my future wife."</p>
</div>
</div>

<hr class="page" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc97" id="toc97"></a>
<a name="pdf98" id="pdf98"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">REMINISCENCES OF PRINTERS, AUTHORS, AND BOOKSELLERS IN NEW-YORK.</span><a id="noteref_8" name="noteref_8" href="#note_8"><span class="tei tei-noteref" style="text-align: left"><span style="font-size: 60%; vertical-align: super">8</span></span></a></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">BY JOHN W. FRANCIS, M.D., LL. D.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When the great defender of the Constitution
delivered the oration at Bunker
Hill, he pointed to the just completed monument
and exclaimed, "There stands the Orator
of the Day." In humble imitation of
that significant act, I also, in attempting to
illustrate the interests and the meaning of
this occasion, would point you, gentlemen, to
the fact of your presence here to-night—to
the union at one banquet of printers, editors,
publishers, authors, and professional men—as
the best evidence of the importance and
attractiveness of the occasion. The art of
printing, among other inestimable blessings,
has fused together the most productive elements
of society; it has established a vital
relation between intellect and mechanics, between
labor and thought. I see before me in
this assembly those who have achieved enduring
literary fame, and those who are the
present guides of public opinion. I see them
side by side with the men who have just put
their thoughts and sentiments into a bodily
form and disseminated them on the wings of
the press. The association is not only appropriate,
but it is honorable to his memory who
united in his life the humblest manual toil and
the loftiest flights of genius; who both set up
types and drew the lightning from heaven,
and combined in his own person the practical
printer and the scientific philosopher.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">By your courtesy, gentlemen, I have been
invited to say a few words appropriate to the
New York-Typographical Society. It is with
unfeigned reluctance that I assume the task.
In this presence I behold so many better
qualified for the undertaking than myself,
that I am apprehensive I shall be able neither<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page254">[pg 254]</span><a name="Pg254" id="Pg254" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
to do justice to my theme nor satisfy the expectations
which you in your clemency have
anticipated. True it is, that in my early life
I was connected with your fraternity by more
immediate ties than at present exist. Circumstances
have modified my career, but I
should prove recreant to the best feelings of
my heart, turn ingrate to the pleasantest
associations of memory, and forget the most
efficient causes which have favored my journey
thus far to mellow years, were I unmindful
of the gratifications I enjoyed while a
fellow laborer in your noble pursuits. The
press is the representative of the intellectual
man on earth; it is the expositor of his cogitative
powers; the promulgator of his most
recondite labors; the strong arm of his support
in the defence and maintenance of his
inherent rights as a member of the social
compact; the vindicator of his claims to the
exalted station of one stamped in the express
image of God; it is the charter of freedom
to ameliorated man in the glorious strife of
social organization, in the pursuits of life, liberty,
and happiness. Hence I have ever
cherished the deepest regard for those who
have appropriated their time and talents to
this vast engine of civilization. I have ever
looked upon the vocation as holding the integrity
of our highest privileges on earth; freedom
of inquiry, freedom of utterance, and
the vast behests of civil communion, with the
kindred of every nation, and the tongues of
every speech.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When I was a boy of ten years of age, I
became acquainted with the biography of
Franklin. I had purchased at auction a Glasgow
edition of his Life and Essays. I had
read <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Robinson Crusoe</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">George Barnwell</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The
House That Jack Built</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Æsop's Fables</span></span>, the
duodecimo edition of Morse's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Geography</span></span>, and
other common publications of the times. No
work that I have perused, from that juvenile
period of my existence up to the present day,
has ever yielded the peculiar gratification
which Franklin's memoirs gave me, and my
admiration and reverence for our illustrious
sage have through all subsequent inquiry into
his actions and services, increased in intensity,
in proportion as I have contemplated his wondrous
character and his unparalleled achievements.
I think I owe something to my
mother for this happy appreciation of our
Franklin. She was by birth a Philadelphian,
and for years, during her residence in Arch
street, was favored with opportunities of
again and again beholding Dr. Franklin pass
her door, in company with Dr. Rush and
Thomas Paine. "There," the children of
the neighborhood would cry out, "goes Poor
Richard, Common Sense, and the Doctor."
It is recorded that Franklin furnished many
thoughts in the famous pamphlet of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Common
Sense</span></span>, while Paine wrote it, and Rush gave
the title. There is something in the hereditary
transmission of the moral and of the
physical qualities; yet I have thought that
the benevolent schemes of Rush, the intrepid
patriotism of Paine, and the honest maxims
of Franklin—the topics of daily converse in
that day—had some influence in strengthening
the principles which my mother inculcated
in her children.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You have told me, gentlemen, that you
would be gratified with some reminiscences
touching New-York—social, literary, personal—of
men and books—all having a bearing,
more or less immediate, either on the progress
of human development, or the character
of our metropolitan city. I know not
how to satisfy either you or myself. To do
justice to the subject would require a different
opportunity from the one here enjoyed,
and leisure such as I cannot now command.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The locality upon which we are assembled
to-night has its associations. We meet this
evening on the memorable spot in our city's
early topography denominated the Bayard
Farm—a property once in the possession of
the affluent Bayards, of him who was companion
in his strife with Governor Leisler,
and whose death for high treason was the
issue of that protracted contest. That he
fell a martyr to freedom, our friend Charles
F. Hoffman has ably demonstrated. Within
a few doors of this place, on Broadway, very
many years after, but within my recollection,
lived that arch negotiator in public counsels,
Talleyrand, the famous ambassador of France
to the United States. He published a small
tractate on America, once much read, and it
was he who affirmed that the greatest sight
he had ever beheld in this country, was the
illustrious Hamilton, with his pile of books
under his arms, proceeding to the court-room
in the old City Hall, in order to obtain a
livelihood, by expounding the law, and vindicating
the rights of his clients.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Here too is the spot where, some short
while after, the antics of the Osage tribe of
Indians were displayed for the admiration of
the belles and beaux of New-York, and on
that occasion my old colleague, Dr. Mitchill,
gave translations into English of their songs
and war-whoop sounds, for the increased
gratification of the literary public of that day,
when Indian literature stood not so high as
in these times of Congressional appropriation,
and of Henry Schoolcraft, the faithful and
patriotic expositor of the red-man's excellences.
I think I am safe in saying, also, that
near these grounds occurred the execution of
Young, a play-actor, convicted of murder—a
remarkable event in New-York annals, owing
to peculiar circumstances which marked his
imprisonment in our old jail, now converted
into the Hall of Records. There were, about
the period to which I now refer, other occurrences
of singular influence in those days.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Crowther and Levi Weeks were both confined
in this debased prison because of high
crimes, and many were incarcerated for debt.
There was, nevertheless, an atmosphere of
some intellect immolated within its cells; and<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page255">[pg 255]</span><a name="Pg255" id="Pg255" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
for the first, and I believe the only time in
this country, a newspaper was issued for some
months' duration from its walls, entitled <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The
Prisoner of Hope</span></span>. The Wilberforce impulse
of that crisis had much to do with the movement;
and no abolition paper of even later
dates plead more earnestly in behalf of enslaved
humanity, by graphic illustrations and
literary talent, than did <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Prisoner of Hope</span></span>.
At that day, many newspapers had their specific
motto, and that of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Prisoner of Hope</span></span>
was in these words:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Soft, smiling Hope—thou anchor of the mind;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The only comfort that the wretched find;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">All look to thee when sorrow wrings the heart,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To heal, by future prospect, present smart.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Naturalists tell us that this eligible site was
once characterized by the graceful foliage of
the pride of the American forests, the lofty
plane-tree, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">platanus occidentalis</span></span>. It must
further increase our interest in the spot, to
be assured that through its shades strolled
our Franklin, in company with that lover of
rural scenery, the botanist Kalm—an occurrence
not unlike the interesting one of the excursions
of Linnæus with Hans Sloane, in the
Royal Gardens, near London. Here, too, the
wild pigeon was taken in great abundance;
while in the Common (now Park) those primitive
inhabitants of the city, the Beekman
family, with the old doctor at their head, shot
deer and other game in their field sports.
But enough at present of the locality where
this anniversary is held.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The history of the American periodical
press, if given with any thing like fidelity and
minuteness, would occupy several hours; it
is a noble specimen of our triumphs as a free
people, and of our determination so to remain;
it has demonstrated the progress of knowledge,
and the intrepidity of New-Yorkers, as
much as any one series of facts or occurrences
we could summon for illustration. Everybody
within this hall is aware that William
Bradford was the first in time of the newspaper
publishers of New-York. His gazette
made its earliest appearance in October, 1725,
four years after James, the brother of Benjamin
Franklin, began the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New England Courant</span></span>—this
being seventeen years after the
commencement of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Boston News Letter</span></span>,
the first regular newspaper commenced in
North America. I advert to this circumstance
because we possess the completed file
of that earliest of the journals of our land
now in existence. The copy in the library
of the Massachusetts Historical Society was
presented that institution by the famous antiquary,
Dr. Eliot; that in our own Historical
Society is the file which was preserved by Professor
McKean, of Harvard University, who
bequeathed it to the Rev. T. Alden, from
whom I purchased it and deposited it where
it now remains.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From Franklin's representations, Bradford
was a sorry individual, of low cunning, and
sinister; yet I must not deal harshly with
him. His, I believe, was the first printing
press set up in New-York: he published the
laws, and other state papers, and he was the
grandfather of Bradford, afterwards Attorney-General
of the United States; and as
from his loins proceeded Thomas Bradford,
the adventurous and patriotic publisher of
Rees's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Cyclopædia</span></span>—the most enterprising of
the craft, and our greatest patron of engravers—I
desire to hold him in grateful memory.
Our second newspaper was the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York
Weekly Journal</span></span>, commenced about three
years after Bradford's. John Peter Zenger,
its proprietor, was a German by birth, a palatine,
and something of a scholar; a man
of enlarged liberality, patriotic, and an advocate
of popular rights. He attacked the
measures of the provincial Governor and
Council, was subjected to a prosecution by
the officers of the crown, and was brought to
trial in 1735, when Andrew Hamilton, the Recorder
of Philadelphia, came to this city and
successfully defended him. I have before
stated that the late illustrious Governor
Morris considered the decision of that case in
behalf of the press as the dawn of that liberty
which subsequently revolutionized America.
To the ladies now present, the lovers of sweet
sounds, it may not be uninteresting to know
that the first piano forte (harpsichord) imported
into America, arrived in this city for the
musical gratification of the family of the noble
Zenger.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But I can say at this time little concerning
newspapers. Our worthy associate in good
works, Edwin Williams, has lately issued a
memoir of much value on the subject, to which
I must refer you. I regret that his catalogue
of early journals is somewhat defective. As
he justly observes, our Historical Society is
wonderfully rich in these interesting documents.
Our most precious treasures in that
way are, unquestionably, the Rivington <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Royal
Gazette</span></span>, the old <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York Daily Advertiser</span></span>,
containing debates on the State Constitution,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American Citizen and Republican Watch
Tower</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York Evening Post</span></span>, and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Commercial Advertiser</span></span>, through a long series,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York American</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Independent Reflector</span></span>,
containing the patriotic Essays on Toleration,
by William Livingston, of New Jersey,
and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Time-Piece of New-York</span></span>, replete with
invective against the Washington Administration—whose
editor, Philip Freneau, verbally
assured me that its most vituperative features
were from suggestions of Jefferson, during the
crisis in our public affairs provoked by Citizen
Genet. But I must hasten to other topics.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Among the most conspicuous editors and
publishers of gazettes whom I have personally
known was Noah Webster, now so famous for
his Dictionary. At the time I knew him, some
forty years ago, he was in person somewhat
above the ordinary height, slender, with gray
eyes, and a keen aspect; remarkable for neatness
in dress, and characterized by an erect
walk, a broad hat, and a long cue, much after<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page256">[pg 256]</span><a name="Pg256" id="Pg256" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
the manner of Albert Gallatin, as depicted in
the engraving in Callender's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Prospect Before
Us</span></span>. If with philologists he is deemed a man
of merit, it may with equal justice be said that
he is to be recognized by medical men as an
author of importance, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of Pestilence</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Next I may note William Coleman, usually
called in earlier days, by his antagonist Cheetham,
Field-Marshal Coleman. Mr. Bryant,
the able editor of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Post</span></span>, in his biography
of the first fifty years of that prominent gazette,
has well described him. He was a sensitive
man, of great tenacity of opinion, which
he cherished by intercourse with many of the
leading patriots and politicians who were
among us some thirty years ago. He almost
leaned on the arm of the inflexible Timothy
Pickering, and had, in his younger days, held
communion with Hamilton, John Wells and
Rufus King. I shall never forget how the death
of the immortal Hamilton subdued his feeling.
When Gouverneur Morris delivered his
felicitous eulogy from the portals of old Trinity
Church, over the dead body of the noble
martyr, with grief in every countenance, and
anguish in every heart, Coleman's acuteness
of feeling paralyzed every movement of his
frame, and drowned every faculty of his mind.
While on this topic, the decease of Hamilton,
I may state an anecdote, the import of which
can be readily understood. It was not long
prior to the time of his death that the new
and authentic edition of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Federalist</span></span> was
published by George F. Hopkins. Hopkins
told me of the delicacy with which Hamilton
listened to his proposition to print a new edition
of these papers. "They are demanded
by the spirit of the times and the desire of
the people," said Hopkins. "Do you really
think, Mr. Hopkins, that those fugitive essays
will be read, if reprinted?" asked Hamilton;
"well, give me a few days to consider," said
he. "Will this not be a good opportunity,
Gen. Hamilton," rejoined Hopkins, "to revise
them, and, if so, to make, perhaps, alterations,
if necessary, in some parts?" "No, sir, if
reprinted, they must stand exactly as at first,
not a word of alteration. A comma may be
inserted or left out, but the work must undergo
no change whatever."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A few days had elapsed when, on the next
interview, General Hamilton agreed to the reprint,
with the express condition that he himself
must inspect the revised proofs. Not a
word was ever altered. "You think something
of the papers?" says Hamilton to the
printer. "Mr. Hopkins, let them be issued.
Heretofore, sir, I have given the people common
milk; hereafter, shortly, sir, I shall give
them strong meat." What the Union lost by
that fatal duel, the Deity only knows.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Coleman was a writer of grammatical excellence,
though occasionally sadly at fault in
force of diction. Under the influence of some
perverse conceits, he would labor for months
to establish a theoretical doctrine, or to elucidate
a useless proposition. It was hardly
in the power of mortals ever to alter his opinions
when once formed. That yellow fever
was as contagious as small-pox; that skull-cap
(the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">scutellaria</span></span>) was a specific for hydrophobia;
that Napoleon wanted the requisites of
a military chieftain, were among the crotchets
of his brain. The everlasting tractates
which he put forth on these and other subjects,
would in the present day of editorial
prowess scarcely be tolerated in a chronicle
depending on public patronage. Coleman had
read extensively on medical topics, and was
the principal writer of that able and elaborate
Criticism of Miller's Report on the Yellow
Fever in New-York, addressed to Governor
Lewis, and printed in the second volume
of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American Medical and Philosophical
Register</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Coleman would underrate the best public
services, if rendered by a political opponent.
Chancellor Livingston found no quarters
with him for his instrumentality in the
Louisiana purchase. He would ride a hobby
to death. During the many years in which I
read the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Post</span></span>, I can summon to recollection
no contributions on any subject, made to that
paper, that ever awakened one half the attention
which was enlisted by the felicitous
productions of our poet Halleck, and the lamented
Dr. Drake, under the names of Croaker,
and Croaker &amp; Co.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">For numerous years I have well known
Charles Holt, once editor of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Bee</span></span>, during
John Adams's administration, and afterwards
of the New-York <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Columbian</span></span>, during
Dewitt Clinton's gubernatorial career. I am
unable to tell you whether he is still among
the living. I would estimate his age, if so,
as approaching ninety years. He was a lump
of benevolence, and a strenuous advocate of
the great internal improvement policy of
New-York. He comes forcibly to my mind
this evening, because in 1798 he wrote a history
of the yellow fever in New London, and
every now and then I find him quoted in
medical books as Dr. Holt, just as his predecessor,
who wrote on the yellow fever in Philadelphia,
of 1793, stands in bold relief as Dr.
Matthew Carey.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nathaniel Carter is vividly impressed on
my recollection; he had very considerable
literary taste; was many years editor of the
New-York <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Statesman</span></span>; and after his visit to
Europe, published his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Letters</span></span> on his tour, in
two large volumes. His merit was only equalled
by his modesty. He was strongly devoted
to Dewitt Clinton and the Erie Canal; with
becoming tenacity he cherished much regard
for his eastern brethren, and was the first I
think who introduced his personal friend, our
constitutional expositor, Daniel Webster, to
the Bread and Cheese Lunch, founded by J.
Fenimore Cooper, at which sometimes met, in
familiar discussions, such minds as those of
Chief Justice Jones, Peter A. Jay, Henry
Storrs, Professor Renwick, John Anthon,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page257">[pg 257]</span><a name="Pg257" id="Pg257" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
Charles King, John Duer, and others of like
intellectual calibre. Carter was of a feeble
frame, struggling with pulmonary annoyance,
from which he died early. He was little initiated
in the trickery of political controversy.
His heart was filled with the kindliest feelings
of which nature is susceptible.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">My acquaintance with the late Colonel
Stone, so long connected with the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Commercial
Advertiser</span></span>, commenced while he was
the efficient editor of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Albany Daily Advertiser</span></span>.
His devotion to the best interests
of the state and country; his extensive knowledge
of American history; his patriotic
feeling evinced on all occasions in behalf
of our injured Aborigines; his biographies
of Red Jacket and Brandt; his great political
consistency during so many years—all commend
him to our kindest and most grateful
recollections. That he was cut off at a comparatively
early age, was the result of his severe
and unremitting literary toils. With a
touching patience, he endured an agonizing
illness, nor did he cease his useful labors till
exhausted nature forbade further efforts.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">About the time of the death of Colonel
Stone, New-York lost a valuable promoter of
its substantial interests by the demise of John
Pintard. His career is still fresh in the
memories of those who cherish the actions
of the benevolent and humane. He was a
native of this city (born in 1759), where he
passed the greater part of his life, and died
in 1844, in his eighty-sixth year. He was
connected with the newspaper press in the
earlier times of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Daily Advertiser</span></span>. Pintard
was well acquainted with nearly all the
distinguished public characters at the period
of the adoption of our constitution. Possessed
of sound attainments by his Princeton
College education, the ardor of his patriotism
displayed itself by his uniting with a body
of his college companions, in a military
movement, in the revolutionary contest. He
afterwards returned for a while to his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">alma
mater</span></span>, with the approbation of President
Witherspoon. He was next appointed a sub-commissioner
for American prisoners in New-York,
and had frequent intercourse with the
notorious Cunningham, the keeper of the
Provost; visited the Sugar House, occupied
by the unfortunate prisoners of war, in Crown
street (now Liberty street); the Dutch Church
in Nassau street, the Scotch Church in Little
Queen street (now Cedar street), and also
the Friends' Meeting House in Queen street
(now Pearl street), near Cherry street, all
tilled with the wretched victims of tyranny.
He interceded in their behalf with the German
General Heister, and with Henry Clinton,
the British commander. He became acquainted
with Knyphausen, William Smith the historian
of New-York, Lord Howe, and others, and
he has described, as an eye-witness, the scenes
occurring at Washington's inauguration, in
1789. He was an advocate of the Federal policy
of that day, and was a member of our
State Legislature when it held its sessions in
this city. Time forbids my detailing the objects
to which he directed his attention during
a long career of usefulness. Several of
our important municipal regulations still in
force were suggested by him. He was an
earnest champion and successful advocate for
the incorporation of the Bank of New-York.
He was one of the founders of the Tammany
Society, in those days made up of gentlemen
of all political parties, and the express object
of which was to preserve the history and habits
of our red brethren. He urged the plan
of a Registry of Mortality in this city, and
was appointed the first City Inspector. The
New-York Historical Society must look upon
him as its chief founder. Some of its most
precious treasures are fruits of his munificence.
He was among the most strenuous,
with Bishop Hobart, in establishing and increasing
the library of the Protestant Episcopal
Seminary, and was not deficient of contributions
towards it. He was active with
Elias Boudinot in projecting the American
Bible Society. The first Bank of Savings
mainly originated with him. He revived the
Chamber of Commerce after its long repose.
He convened the first assemblage of our citizens
at the Park; for the purpose of obtaining
a public expression of opinion in favor of the
Canal policy for connecting the Erie and the
Hudson, and this at a period when the spirit
of party strife had widely scattered doubts
and ridicule on the contemplated movement.
In the war of 1812, when paper money in
small bills largely became our currency, Mr.
Pintard was the person who caused those
well-known mottoes, "Mind your own
business," "Never despair," "Economy is
wealth," and others of a like import, chiefly
drawn from Franklin, to surround the designations
of the value of the money. He had, I believe,
done a like service in our revolutionary
times. He carried the measure of having the
British names of our streets changed to the
modern ones they are now known by. I have
noticed these few circumstances concerning
him, because I wish it to be impressed on
your memories that the editors and proprietors
of public journals are often zealous in
good measures not necessarily connected with
their immediate vocation. Pintard enjoyed
an intimacy with booksellers and authors.
He and Freneau, a native also of this city,
and his contemporary, had often been in
close communion, as patriots of the revolution.
This essential difference, however, obtained
between them. Pintard was a federalist;
Freneau an antifederalist. Old Rivington
had often a hard time with them.
The sordid tory could neither endure the
conservative republican principles of Pintard,
nor the relentless bitterness of the sarcasm
of Freneau. I shall only add that he was a
student of many books, and an observer of
men in every walk of life. He was of grave
thought, yet often facetious in conversation.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page258">[pg 258]</span><a name="Pg258" id="Pg258" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
During forty years of medical practice, I have
rarely fell in with one richer in table-talk, or
better supplied with topics in life and letters.
In his death, he manifested the strength of
his religious faith, and resigned his spirit
with a benignant composure. But I am forbidden
to enlarge on the many excellences
and services of the public-spirited John
Pintard.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Were we to dwell upon the excellence of a
gazette according to its merits, I should have
much to say of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Morning Chronicle</span></span>, a paper
established in this city in the year 1802.
The leading editor was Dr. Peter Irving, a
gentleman of refined address, scholastic attainments,
and elegant erudition. It exhibited
great power in its editorial capacity, and
was the vehicle of much literary matter from
the abundance and ability of its correspondence.
If I do not greatly err, in this paper
Washington Irving first appeared as an author,
by his series of dramatic criticisms, over
the signature of Jonathan Oldstyle. The
only poetic writer of whose effusions I now
retain any recollection was Miss Smith, the
sister of the late Thomas E. Smith. Her
pieces were known by the signature of Clara;
and in bringing together the effusions of the
early female poets, Dr. Griswold, in his
praiseworthy zeal in behalf of American
literature, might well have increased in
value his interesting collection by specimens
of the productions of Miss Smith.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The omission, in these reminiscences, of
some notice of John Lang, would be so quickly
discovered, that I am necessarily compelled
to dwell for a moment on the character and
services of one who, for a long succession of
years, filled a notable place in our newspaper
annals. Lang was of Scotch descent, but the
place of his birth, I believe, was New-York.
For some forty or more years, Lang's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Gazette</span></span>
was recognized as the leading mercantile
advertiser, and the patronage which it
received from the business world was such
as doubtless secured ample returns to its proprietor.
The distinction of the paper was
unquestionably its attention to the shipping
interests of this commercial emporium. As
a journal of either political or miscellaneous
matter it was sadly deficient. Lang adhered
to his "arrivals" as the prominent object of
consideration, and the mightiest changes of
revolutions, in actions or opinions, found but
a stinted record in his widely-diffused journal.
Rarely, indeed, did our acknowledged politicians
or essayists seek its columns for the
promulgation of their ideas, and its editorial
displays were generally tormentingly feeble.
Nevertheless, it was in this gazette, then under
the control of Lang and McLean, that
General Hamilton first gave to the public his
numbers of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Federalist</span></span>. There is often
to be found in one daily issue of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Post</span></span>, the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Courier and Enquirer</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal of Commerce</span></span>,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Herald</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tribune</span></span>, or the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Times</span></span>
of these days, more thought, nice disquisition,
and real knowledge which awakens the
contemplation of the statesman and politician,
than the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York Gazette</span></span> contained during
a twelvemonth; and yet it flourished. The
traits of Lang's character were unwavering
devotion to his pursuits; no one could excel
him in the kindness of his demeanor; unconscious
of the penury of his intellectual powers,
he at times, unwittingly became the
pliant agent of designing individuals, and
from the blunders into which he was led, his
baptismal name, John, seemed easily converted
into that of Solomon, by which specification
much of his correspondence was maintained.
He bore the pleasantry with grateful
composure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">With a characteristic anecdote I must dismiss
the name of Lang. The discussions of a
point in chronology, which occurred on the
commencement of the present century, awakened
some attention with mathematicians and
astronomers abroad, and among many with us.
The learned and pious Dr. Kunze, after much
investigation, addressed a communication on
the vexed question to Mr. Lang. He had adverted
to the Gregorian style in his letter,
and had mentioned Pope Gregory. The faithful
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Gazette</span></span> printed the article Tom Gregory:
the venerable Doctor hastened to his friend,
and remonstrated on the injury he had done
him, and requested the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">erratum</span></span> to specify,
instead of Tom Gregory, Pope Gregory XIII.
Again an alteration was made, and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Gazette</span></span>
requested its readers, for Tom Gregory
to read Pope Tom Gregory XIII. Only
one more attempt at correction was made,
when the compositor had its typography so
changed that it read Tom Gregory, the Pope.
The learned divine, with a heavy heart, in a
final interview with the erudite editor, begged
him to make no further improvements,
as he dreaded the loss of all the reputation
his years of devotion to the subject had secured
to him. This Dr. Kunze was long a
prominent minister of the German Lutheran
Church of this city. He was the preceptor
in Philadelphia of Henry Stuber, author of
the continuation of the life of our Socrates,
Dr. Franklin: a work executed with much
ability. He was a physician, and a most delectable
character. Many years ago, I was so
fortunate as to procure some materials for a
biography of him, and Dr. Sparks has courteously
given them a place in his invaluable
edition of Dr. Franklin's works. Justice to
the departed Lang demands that I should
add that he was a gentleman of the old
school, of great moral excellence, and as a
husband and a father most exemplary; deeply
devoted to the interests of this city, and
evincing a philanthropic spirit on every becoming
occasion. He died at an advanced
age; but his career was shortened by the
great fire, in this city, in 1835. That vast
destruction in his beloved New-York was an
oppressive weight upon his heart.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Major Noah has so recently departed from<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page259">[pg 259]</span><a name="Pg259" id="Pg259" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
among us, and the expectation that his active
life will soon find a biographer is so general,
that it seems unnecessary on the present occasion
to speak at any length concerning him.
I knew him well some thirty-five years. In
religion a Jew, he was tolerant of all creeds,
with equal amenity; his natural parts were
of a remarkable order; few excelled him in
industry, none in temperance and sobriety.
He wrote for many journals, and established
several. By his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Travels in Africa</span></span> he became
known as an author. His work on the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Abolition
of Imprisonment for Debt</span></span> was widely
read. He was lively in converse, and a most
social companion. His literary compositions,
though not always pure in style, often showed
a nice sense of the ludicrous and a love
of humor. He abounded in anecdote. Mr.
Matthews, from his personal knowledge, has
not overdrawn the character of Noah. He
possessed the organ of benevolence on a
large scale. It is to be regretted that by his
political vacillations his talents finally lost all
influence in public councils and affairs.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We are susceptible of the pleasures and the
pains of memory. A retrospect will confirm
this declaration on many occasions. It is so
in our contemplations of a newspaper; and
in no instance have I been more sensible of
this than when considering the origin, the
career, and the termination of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York
American</span></span>. Its prominent projector was Johnson
Verplanck, a native of this city, of a conspicuous
family, whose mental qualities were
of a robust order, and whose classical attainments
entitled him to distinction. With the
countenance and assistance of enlightened associates,
he soon acquired for the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American</span></span>
a reputation for eminent talents, great independence
in opinion, and the most perfect
freedom in scrutinizing public acts, and in literary
and artistic criticism. Mr. Verplanck
was one of the writers of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Buck Tail Bards</span></span>,
a satirical poem, of Hudibrastic flavor. He
died in 1829. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American</span></span> fell then into
other hands, and for a long succession of years
was editorially sustained by one who had
often previously enriched its columns with his
lucubrations. I allude to Charles King, now
President of Columbia College. It was soon
demonstrated to the satisfaction of its patrons,
that, although under a new government, and
its supplies derived from another source, its
nutrition was not less wholesome and productive.
For many years it claimed the admiration
of the conservators of constitutional
right and of critical taste. It was conducted
with a manly boldness. Its tone gave dignity
to political disquisition, though its manner
was sometimes dreaded by objects of its animadversion:
if its censures were occasionally
severe, its approbation was the more highly
appreciated: it was a record of historical
value; nor can I comprehend why, in this
age of universal reading in journalism, its career
was closed. Its many volumes must
hereafter be ranked with the once famous
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">National Gazette</span></span> of Robert Walsh, and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">National Intelligencer</span></span> of Gales &amp; Seaton. Its
distinguished editor, satisfied that for so long
a period he had performed his part in the promotion
of sound principles, with singleness of
purpose, in behalf of the city, the state and
the nation, may have sought that relief from
mental care which is often secured by change
of occupation. When I cast a thought over
the hours I have spent in reading the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American</span></span>,
I feel as Whitfield has expressed himself
on a different occasion, "I am glad, but
I am sorry;" glad that I have had so long the
pleasure of being informed by its perusal;
sorry that the opportunity no longer exists.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In closing this short list of editors, I feel
justified in deviating for a moment in my
chronology by a word or two on the character
and death of one whom I have ever considered
the ablest writer we have had in our
public journals. He has been already incidentally
mentioned. I allude to James Cheetham.
He succeeded as editor of Greenleaf's
paper, calling it the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American Citizen</span></span>. Cheetham
was an English radical; had left Manchester
for this country, and was by trade a
hatter. His personal appearance was impressive;
tall, athletic, with a martial bearing
in his walk, a forehead of great breadth
and dimensions, and penetrating gray eyes,
he seemed authoritative wherever he might
be. He arrived in this country at a period
of perplexing excitement in the times of Adams's
administration and Jefferson's entrance
into the presidency. He found many to
countenance his radicalism, as Tennis Wortman,
James Dennison, Charles Christian and
others—men whom we might call liberals,
both in religion and in politics. Accidental
circumstances made me well acquainted with
him, so early as the summer of 1803. He
was then universally known as the champion
of Jefferson, of Governor George Clinton, and
of De Witt Clinton. He was a most unflinching
partisan writer, and with earnestness asserted
the advantages arising from the possession
of Louisiana, countenanced Blind Palmer,
the lecturer on Deism, and congratulated
the public on the return to America of
Thomas Paine. He ever remained an active
advocate of old George Clinton, but his friendship
was suddenly turned into hatred of Paine,
and his life of that once prominent but wretched
individual demonstrates the rancor of his
temper. The murderous death of Hamilton,
I think, had a strong influence on him. No
sooner had he breathed his last than Cheetham
extolled him as the greatest of patriots.
Many speak of Cheetham as at times holding
the pen of Junius—a judgment sustained by
some of his political assaults and essays. He
possessed a magnificent library, was a great
reader, and studied Burke and Shakspeare
more than any other authors. I know nothing
against his moral character. His death,
however, was most remarkable: he had removed
with his family to a country residence,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page260">[pg 260]</span><a name="Pg260" id="Pg260" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
some three miles from the city, in the summer
of 1809. A few days afterwards he exposed
himself to malaria, by walking without
a hat, through the fields, under a burning
September sun. He was struck with a complication
of ills—fever, congestion of the
brain, and great cerebral distress. The malignancy
of his case soon foretold to his physician,
Dr. Hosack, the uncertainty of his recovery.
Being at that time a student of
medicine, I was requested to watch him; on
the second day of his sickness, his fever raging
higher, he betrayed a disturbed intellect.
On the night of the third day raving mania
set in. Incoherently he called his family
around him, and addressed his sons as to their
peculiar avocations for life, giving advice to
one ever to be temperate in all things, and to
another urging the importance of knowledge.
After midnight he became much worse, and
was ungovernable. With herculean strength
he now raised himself from his pillow; with
eyes of meteoric fierceness, he grasped his
bed covering, and in a most vehement but
rapid articulation, exclaimed to his sons,
"Boys! study Bolingbroke for style, and
Locke for sentiment." He spoke no more.
In a moment life had departed. His funeral
was a solemn mourning of his political friends.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Paine has been referred too. I have often
seen him at the different places of his residence
in this city, now in Partition-street,
now in Broome-street, &amp;c. His localities
were not always the most agreeable. In
Partition-street, near the market, a portion
of his tenement was occupied for the display
of wild beasts. Paine generally sat, taking
an airing, at the lower front windows, the
gazed-at of all passers by. Jarvis, the painter,
was often his visitor, and was fortunate
enough to secure that inimitable plaster cast
of his head and features, which at his request,
I deposited with the New-York Historical
Society. While at that work, Jarvis exclaimed,
"I shall secure him to a nicety, if I
am so fortunate as to get plaster enough for
his carbuncled nose." Jarvis thought this
bust of Paine his most successful undertaking
as a sculptor.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I shall trespass some moments by giving a
few reminiscences concerning booksellers and
publishers. There are many of this professional
order, whose character and influence
might justly demand a detailed account.
Spence himself would find among them anecdotes
worthy consideration in the world of
letters. I must, however, write within circumscribed
limits. The first in my immediate recollection
is Everet Duyckinck. He was a
middle-aged man, when I, a boy, was occasionally
at his store, an ample and old-fashioned
building, at the corner of Pearl-street and Old
Slip. He was grave in his demeanor, and
somewhat taciturn; of great simplicity in
dress; accommodating and courteous. He
must have been rich in literary recollections.
He for a long while occupied his excellent
stand for business, and was quite extensively
engaged as a publisher and seller. He was a
sort of Mr. Newbury, so precious to juvenile
memories in the olden times. He largely
dealt with that order of books, for elementary
instruction, which were popular abroad,
just about the close of our revolutionary war
and at the adoption of our Constitution—Old
Dyche, and his pupil Dilworth, and Perry, and
Sheridan. As education and literature advanced,
he brought forward, by reprints, Johnson
and Chesterfield, and Vicissimus Knox,
and a host of others. His store was the nucleus
of the Connecticut teachers and intellectual
products, and Barlow and Webster,
and Morse and Riggs, found in him a patron of
their works in poetry and their school books.
Bunyan, Young, Watts, Doddridge and Baxter,
must have been issued by his enterprise in
innumerable thousands throughout the old
thirteen States; and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">English Primer</span></span>, now
improved into the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">American Primer</span></span>, with its
captivating emendations, as</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The royal oak, it was the tree</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">That saved his Royal Majesty;</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">changed to the more simple couplet—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Oak's not as good</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">As hickory wood;</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">and the lines—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Whales in the sea</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">God's voice obey;</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">now modified without loss of its poetic fire—</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">By Washington,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Great deeds were done—</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">led captivity captive, and had an unlimited
circulation, for the better diffusion of knowledge
and patriotism throughout the land. As
our city grew apace, and both instructors and
their functions enlarged, he engaged in the
Latin classics. Having a little Latin about
me, it became my duty to set up at the printing
office of Lewis Nicholls, Duyckinck's reprint
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">De Bello Gallico</span></span>. The edition was
edited by a Mr. Rudd. He was the first editor
I ever saw; I looked on him with school-boy
admiration when I took him the proofs.
What alterations or improvements he made
in the text of Oudendorp, I never ascertained.
This, however, must have been among the
beginnings of that American practice, still
prevailing among us, of having in reprints
of even the most important works from abroad,
for better circulation, the name of some one as
editor, inserted on the title-page. Mr. Duyckinck
was gifted with great business talents,
and estimated as a man of punctuality and of
rigid integrity in fiscal matters. He was the
first who had the entire Bible, in duodecimo,
preserved—set up in forms—the better to
supply, at all times, his patrons. This was
before stereotype plates were adopted. He
gave to the Harpers the first job of printing
they executed—whether Tom Thumb or
Wesley's Primitive Physic, I do not know.
The acorn has become the pride of the forest—the
Cliff-street tree, whose roots and
branches now ramify all the land. Duyckinck
faithfully carried out the proverbs of Franklin,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page261">[pg 261]</span><a name="Pg261" id="Pg261" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
and the sayings of Noah Webster's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Prompter</span></span>.
He was by birth and action a genuine
Knickerbocker.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There was, about forty years ago, an individual
somewhat remarkable in several respects,
whose bookstore was in Maiden Lane—William
Barlas. He was by birth a Scotchman,
and was brought up to the ministry;
but from causes which I never learned, he
relinquished that vocation in his native land,
and assumed that of a bookseller in this city.
He was reputed to be a ripe scholar. He
dealt almost exclusively in the classics, and
for numerous years imported the editions—<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">in
usum Delphini</span></span>, for the students in our schools
and colleges. Hardly a graduate among us,
of the olden time, can have forgotten him—Irving,
Verplanck, John Anthon, and Paulding,
can doubtless tell much of him. When,
on a large scale, was commenced in Philadelphia,
reprints of the Latin and Greek writers,
poor Mr. Barlas's functions were nearly
annihilated. I mention him here from his relation
to the advancement of learning in my
juvenile days. His opinion on the various
editions was deemed conclusive; and he controlled
the judgment as well as the pocket of
the purchaser. He was long in epistolary
correspondence with "the friend of Cowper,"
as some call him—old John Newton of London;
and I have often wondered that no enterprise
has yet brought forward, in a new
edition of the writings of Newton, their correspondence.
It is not for me to dwell on
the contrast, so striking, between the present
period and that to which I have just adverted,
when even professors of Colleges were
controlled in their opinions of books by the
dicta of a bookseller. Such was the fact some
forty or fifty years ago. What would be the
reply of our Professor Anthon, of Columbia
College, to a bookseller who assumed such authority?
of him whose love and devotion to
the philosophy of the classics has led him already
in so many works to spread before the
cogitative scholars, of both worlds, the deepest
researches of antiquarian disquisition and
philological lore, evincing that America is not
tardy in a just appreciation of the excellencies
of those treasures which enriched a Bentley,
a Horseley, a Porson, and a Parr.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Those of our literary connoisseurs who cast
a retrospective glance over days long past,
may awaken into memory that delicately constructed
and pensive-looking man, of Pearl-street,
recognized by the name of Charles
Smith. I believe he was a New-Yorker.
Pulmonary suffering was his physical infirmity—his
relief, tobacco, the fumes of which
aver surrounded him like a halo. He abounded
in the gloom and glory of the American
Revolution, and published, with portraits, numerous
diagrams of the campaigns of the war
in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Military Repository</span></span>, a work of great
fidelity, in which it is thought he was aided
by Baron Steuben and General Gates. As a
bibliopolist, little need be said of him. But
the curious in knowledge will not overlook
him as the first who popularly made known
to the English reader the names of Kotzebue
and Schiller. Several of the novels and plays
of these German authors were done into English
by him; and, with William Dunlap, both
as a translator and as a theatrical manager,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Stranger</span></span> and other plays were presented
to the cultivators of the drama in New-York
long before their appearance in London, or the
publication of Thompson's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">German Theatre</span></span>.
It is a circumstance worthy of notice, that
the Rev. Mr. Will, then of this city, added to
the stock of our literary treasures, by other
translations into the English, such as the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Constant
Lovers, &amp;c.</span></span>, of Kotzebue, before, I believe,
any recognized English version appeared
abroad. But I must leave this subject for the
fuller investigation of the learned Dr. Schmidt
professor of German, in Columbia College.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">David Longworth's name is a good deal
blended with the progress of American literature
during years gone by. He was by
birth a New Jerseyman; and the publication
of his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">City Directory</span></span>, for some thirty or
more years, gave him sufficient notoriety;
while his Shaksperean Gallery introduced
him to many of the cultivators of the fine
arts, at a period, when Trumbull and Jarvis
were our prominent painters. Longworth
had been brought up as a printer, at a daily
press, but he seems early to have got a taste
for copper-plate engraving, accurate printing,
and elegant binding. With determined energy
he issued an edition of Telemachus,
which, for beauty of typography and paper,
was looked upon, by the lovers of choice
books, as a rich specimen of our art. His
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Belles-Lettres Repository</span></span> no less evinced his
taste in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">elegantiæ literarum</span></span>. He was,
nevertheless, a man of many strange notions.
It is well known that about the commencement
of the eighteenth century, in our English
books, printed in the mother country, the
substantive words were almost always begun
with a capital; the like practice obtained in
many newspapers; but Longworth, not content
with the partial change which time had
brought about, of sinking these prominent
and advantageous upper case type, waged a
war of extermination against almost every
capital in the case, and this curious deformity
is found in many of his publications, as
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">british america</span></span>, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">london docks</span></span>. Even in
poetry, of the first word, he tolerated only
small letters at the beginning of the lines.
His practice, however, found no imitators,
though 'tis said that it first began in Paris.
His bookstore, at a central situation by the
Park, with works of taste classically displayed,
afforded an admirable lounge for the litterateurs
of that day. Here, when Hodgkinson,
and Hallam, and Cooper, and Cooke were
at the zenith of their histrionic career in the
Park Theatre, adjacent, might be seen a
group of poets and prose writers, who, in
their generation, added to the original off-spring<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page262">[pg 262]</span><a name="Pg262" id="Pg262" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
of the American press—Brockden
Brown, Dunlap, Verplanck, Paulding Fessenden,
Richard Alsop, Peter Irving, and the
now universally famed Washington Irving.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I must note a circumstance of some import
on the state of letters among us about
those times. Longworth had secured from
abroad a copy of the first edition, in quarto,
of Scott's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lay of the Last Minstrel</span></span>, and determined
to reprint it; yet, not satisfied
with his own judgment, he convened a
meeting of his literary friends to settle the
matter. The committee, after solemn deliberation,
suggested his venturing to reproduce
only the introductions to the cantos, as an experiment,
in order to ascertain the public
taste. Would I speak in terms too strong if I
affirmed that since that committee sat, millions
of copies of the numerous volumes of
Sir Walter Scott have been bought by the
reading world in America. My circle of literary
acquaintance was a good deal enlarged
by the coteries I now and then found at
Longworth's, as he was not backward in
seizing opportunities of issuing new works,
when from their nature they might excite
the appetite of the curious. No publication
of his so effectually secured this end, as the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Salmagundi</span></span>, in 1807, sent forth in bi-weekly
numbers by young Irving and his friend
Paulding. When we are apprised that some
few of our middle-aged citizens, who sustained
the stroke of that literary scimetar so
long ago, still survive among us, I think we
may argue from strong data for the salubrity
of our climate. At Longworth's, I first saw
the youngest dramatic genius of the time,
Howard Payne, then about fourteen years
old, and who, a short while after, appeared as
young Norval on the boards of the theatre.
He was editor of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Thespian Mirror</span></span>.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Originally of Ireland, Hugh Gaine, upon
his emigration to this country during our
colonial dependence, set up in this city in
1753 his Royal Gazette, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York Mercury</span></span>.
His fame as well as his patriotism is
embalmed in the irony of Freneau. It is only
as a bookseller that I knew him, in Hanover
Square. He was then at a very advanced
age. His savings rendered him in due time
independent in pecuniary matters. We may
safely infer that he was not surpassed in industry,
and that he was ever awake to the
main chance, when we are assured that at the
commencement of his journal, he collected
his own news, set up his types, worked off
his papers, folded his sheets, and personally
distributed them to his subscribers. Franklin
had done pretty nearly the same things before.
Gaine, who in his after-life was an object of a
good deal of curiosity to the citizens of the
republic, enjoyed the consideration due to an
honest man, and many kindly feelings.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Many as were his merits, and great as was
his enterprise, Isaac Collins was most widely
known, the latter part of his long career, by
his editions of the works on grammar, and
other school books, by the prolific Lindley
Murray. As in the case of Franklin, his
earliest effort of magnitude was the printing
Sewell's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Quakers</span></span>. The neatness
and accuracy of his printing were familiarly
remarked among readers; and these excellencies
he displayed in his quarto Bible,
the first of that form which was printed in
this country in 1790. Collins was a native
of Delaware. He projected a weekly paper,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New Jersey Gazette</span></span>, which he published
at Burlington during the Revolution, and,
some time after, upon strenuous Whig principles.
He had authority, like Franklin, for
the emission of paper money for the State
Government. He removed to this city in 1796,
and a few years after this time I knew him.
As his career was, many portions of it, like
Franklin's, I had the greater admiration of
him. He died in 1817. That he enjoyed
the acquaintance of Franklin, of Rittenhouse
and Rush, of Livingston of New Jersey, and
others of the truest patriots in the great
struggles of the country, may be inferred
from his profession, his public station, his integrity,
and his general character. In the society
of Friends he was prominent, and, like Thomas
Eddy and Robert Bowne, he was occupied
with hospitals, and ever zealous in good works.
He did vast service to the city as a printer, and
as such he is here introduced.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The oldest inhabitants of our city may well
recollect the bookstore of the Swords, Thomas
and James. Some sixty years ago they began
operations in Pearl-street. They commenced
when New-York was little more than
a village in population, and when literary
projects were almost unknown. They deserve
ample notice as most efficient pioneers, in
their day, as printers and booksellers, and
through a long career they held a high rank;
they were assiduous and economical almost
to a fault: their integrity was never doubted;
their word was as good as their bond. They
printed good works in more acceptations of
the phrase than one. They did a great service
to our scientific enterprise, in issuing the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Medical Repository</span></span>, the earliest journal of
that kind, in the country. A literary periodical,
of many years duration, was also printed
by them, called the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">New-York Magazine</span></span>.
It was remarkable for the contributions of a
society, self-named the Drone. Brockden
Brown, William Dunlap, Anthony Bleucker,
Josiah Ogden Hoffman, and James Kent (afterwards
the great Chancellor), were among
the writers. William Johnson, the well-known
Reporter, who died recently, was the
last survivor of this club. Their store for a
number of years was a rendezvous for professional
men of different callings—divines,
physicians, lawyers, with a sprinkling of the
professed authors of those times, as Clifton,
Low, Davis, &amp;c. Its theological feature was
its strongest; and the interest of episcopacy
were here descanted on with the unction of
godliness, by such men as Seabury of Connecticut,<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page263">[pg 263]</span><a name="Pg263" id="Pg263" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
and Moore of New-York, with good
old Dr. Bowden, and Dr. Hawks, my friends
Drs. Berrian and McVicker of Columbia College,
and the energetic Bishop Hobart, the
busiest and most stirring man I ever knew.
The Messrs. Swords were largely occupied in
printing works on divinity, and were confessed
the printers of sound orthodoxy long before
"the novelties which disturb our peace"
had invoked polemical controversy.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I should do injustice to my feelings were I
in this rapid sketch to overlook the late James
Eastburn, the founder of the first reading-room
on a becoming scale, in this country,
and the publisher of the American edition of
the Edinburgh and London Quarterly Reviews.
He was a gentleman deserving of much estimation,
of bland manners, and enthusiastic in
his calling. He was curious in antiquarian
literature and a great importer of the older
authors. Many are the libraries enriched by
his perseverance. Consumption wasted his
generous frame, and he died at a comparatively
early age, to the deep regret of the
scholar and the philanthropist.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">I should like, before I close this portion of
these reminiscences, to awaken recollections
of one or two other estimable individuals
with whom I was long acquainted—George
F. Hopkins and Jonathan Seymour. Hopkins
merits a biography; he justly boasted
that his edition of Robertson's Charles V.
was the most accurately printed work of the
time. He was fastidious almost to a fault in
typographical neatness. He printed only
works of positive merit. His enterprise led
him, now fifty years ago, to urge the craft to
render themselves independent of imported
types, by establishing type-foundries in the
country. There were few indeed among us
who knew practically much about the founts
of Caslon, the Coryphæus of letter-founders.
The Scotch hard-faced letter was then extensively
in use. Hopkins induced the immigration
to this country of the famous Binney
and Ronaldson, whose great skill in the art
was soon recognized, and from that era up
to the present day competent judges affirm
that our Bruce, White, Conner, and others,
have accomplished all that is requisite in the
type-founding business. Of Jonathan Seymour,
it is enough to say, that at one period
of his life he was more largely engaged than
any of his rivals in printing from manuscripts—so
well known and appreciated was his devotion
to his calling, and the accuracy of its
results. In his death, the art lost one who
had given it elevation, and society a man possessed
of the qualities of industry, temperance,
honesty, and Christian philanthropy in
the fullest measure.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Within a few days has departed from among
us, at the age of eighty years, a supporter of
the press who long contributed to the diffusion
of wholesome knowledge. I allude to
Thomas Kirk. I shall terminate these notices
by a striking occurrence, which involved
him in great loss. He had determined, about
the year 1801, to give the Christian community
an octavo edition, in large type, of the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Book of Common Prayer</span></span>, the first of that size
from an American press. To secure the utmost
accuracy, he engaged, for a pecuniary
consideration, the Rev. John Ireland, of
Brooklyn, to revise the proofs. When the
sheets were worked off, it was ascertained
that the copy was an exact reprint, save in
one particular. The critical acumen of Ireland
had discovered, in the Apostles' Creed,
a "tautological error," in the words, "from
thence he shall come." The word "from"
was superfluous, ungrammatical, and inelegant,
according to Ireland, and, accordingly,
it was not in Kirk's edition. Upon the sale
of a few copies the omission was remarked;
the fact became known to the bishop of the
church; the book was pronounced defective,
and the ecclesiastical authorities prohibited
its circulation. The whole edition fell a dead
weight upon the hands of the well-meaning
publisher. I had this anecdote from Mr. Kirk
himself, years ago, and he repeated it to me
not long prior to his death, in last November.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This allusion to Kirk brings to my mind
the notorious John Williams, better known
as Anthony Pasquin, under which name he
was doomed to everlasting infamy by Gifford,
in his satire of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Baviad and Mæviad</span></span>, in
judgments afterwards confirmed in a celebrated
trial for libel in which the famous
Erskine delivered one of his best forensic
speeches. Williams was the associate in
London of a small but ambitious set of mutual
admirers in literature, of whom Mr.
Merry and his future wife were the "Della
Crusca" and "Rosa Matilda," and all three
of these worthies came to New-York about
the year 1798. I have an impression that
Kirk came at the same time. The character
of Williams was infamous, and a large share of
his infamy consisted in his ministering to, if
not creating, the passion for personal scandal,
and setting the example of black-mail collections,
in newspapers. In the report of the
great case of Williams vs. Faulder, it is said
of his paper, called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The World</span></span>, that "In
this were given the earliest specimens of
those unqualified and audacious attacks on
all private character which the town first
smiled at for their quaintness, then tolerated
for their absurdity—and will have to lament
to the last hour of British liberty." After
he came to this country he associated himself
with the enemies of Hamilton, and published
a satire called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Hamiltoniad</span></span>,
edited a magazine entitled <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Columbian</span></span>,
and was a pioneer in that species of journalism
which still subsists here upon the most
scandalous invasions of private life and reputation.
He was doubly detestable, in that he
was the corruptor and worst specimen of the
editorial calling in Europe and in America.
I remember frequently seeing Williams, in
the latter part of his life, in his shabby pepper-and-salt<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page264">[pg 264]</span><a name="Pg264" id="Pg264" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
dress, in the obscure parts of the
city. I believe he died during the first prevalence
of the cholera in Brooklyn. Fancy may
depict his expression as illustrating Otway's
lines, "as if all hell were in his eyes, and he
in hell." It must not be supposed that I in
any degree associate the fame of the worthy
Kirk with that of this literary vagabond.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">To a suggestion that I might refer to the
late William Cobbett, as associated with the
periodical press of this country, I may say
that I see in it no impropriety. Unquestionably
a minute record would include his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Porcupine
Gazette</span></span> and his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Weekly Register</span></span>; the
one an offspring of his juvenile life, the other
of his ripened years. I had some personal
acquaintance with him at the time of his last
residence in New-York. Hazlitt has, in his
attractive manner, described him to the life.
He was deemed the best talker of his day,
and his forcible pen has given us indubitable
proofs of his powers in literary composition.
It was not unusual with him to make a visit
to the printing office at an early morning
hour, take his seat at the desk, and after some
half dozen lines were written, to throw off
MSS. with a rapidity that engaged eleven
compositors at once in setting up. Thus a
whole sheet of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Register</span></span> might be completed
ere he desisted from his undertaking.
I think that in quickness he surpassed even
the lamented William Leggett, of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Evening
Post</span></span>. The circumstance is certainly interesting
in a psychological point of view; and
yet may not be deemed more curious than
the fact that Priestley made his reply to Lind,
quite a voluminous pamphlet, in twenty-four
hours, or that Hodgkinson, the actor, was able
to peruse crosswise, the entire five columns
of a newspaper, and within two hours recite
it thus by memory. I visited Cobbett, when
his residence was within a couple of miles of
this city, in company with a few professional
gentlemen. It was in October, and a delightful
day. He heard our approach, and came
to the door without our knocking. "Walk
in, gentlemen—am I to consider this as a visit
to me?—walk in and be seated on these
benches, for I have no chairs—you may be
fatigued—will you have a bowl of milk? I
live upon milk and Indian corn—I never drink
spirit or wine, and yet I am a tolerable example
of English health." And, indeed, he was
a most ample specimen of the genuine John
Bull. His nearly oval face, and florid countenance,
with strong gray piercing eyes and
head thickly covered with white hair, closely
trimmed; his huge frame, of some two hundred
and seventy pounds weight, corresponding
abdominal development, and well-proportioned
limbs, all demonstrated, with anatomical
accuracy, the truth of his observation.
His superior intellect seemed roused in all its
functions. The United States, England, the
reform measures, the union of church and
state, and its absurdity, were only a few of the
subjects of his caustic remark. "I have just
performed a duty, gentlemen, which has been
too long delayed; you have neglected the remains
of Thomas Paine; I have done myself
the honor to disinter his bones; I have removed
them from New Rochelle; I have dug
them up; they are now on their way to England;
when I return, I shall cause them to
speak the Common Sense of the great man;
I shall gather together the people of Liverpool
and Manchester in one assembly with
those of London, and those bones will effect
the reformation of England in Church and
State." After some two or three hours we
took our leave, with unlimited admiration of
his brave utterance and his colloquial talents.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">With such a hastily written and imperfect
sketch of the newspaper periodical press, of
printers, editors, booksellers, and authors, I
must close this portion of my present reminiscences.
I have depended on a memory
somewhat tenacious as my authority, in most
instances, having no leisure at command for
reference. A volume might be written of
pertinent details. Nevertheless, enough has
been said to illustrate, in part, the advancement
of one species of knowledge in this metropolis.
Did we institute a comparative
view of the past and present condition of
the press, we might be better enabled to announce
the existing condition of our city as
a Literary Emporium, That it is in accordance
with the spirit of the age, seems demonstrable.
Abroad, in England, in 1701,
when the stamp duty was levied upon every
number of a periodical paper consisting of a
sheet, the whole quantity of printed paper
was estimated at twenty thousand reams annually.
Nearly at this period (1704), when
the Boston <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">News Letter</span></span> made its appearance
in the American colonies, some two or three
hundred copies weekly may have been its
circulation. What is the quantity of paper
demanded by the present British periodical
press, I am unable to state. In this month
of January, 1852, it is calculated that there
are about three thousand different newspapers
and other periodicals printed in this
country, the entire issues of which approach
the yearly aggregate of four hundred and
twenty-three millions of numbers.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When Franklin was a printer it was a hard
task to work off over a thousand sheets on
both sides in a day, by the hand press. Since
his time we have had the Clymer, the Napier,
the Ramage, the Adams, and now Hoe's
Lightning press. By this last-named achievement
in the arts, so honorable to a son of
New-York, and so stupendous in its results
to the world at large, twenty thousand papers
may be printed in one hour.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If we advert to the instructive fact, of the
enormous circulation of many of the journals
of New-York, as the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Herald</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Sun</span></span>,
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tribune</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Times</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Express</span></span>, the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Mirror</span></span>, and others issued daily; if we calculate
the copies of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Observer</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Home
Journal</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Christian Advocate</span></span>, and others<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page265">[pg 265]</span><a name="Pg265" id="Pg265" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
of the weekly press; the circulation of the
monthly and other periodicals; if we look at
the Methodist Book Concern, the Tract Society,
the American Bible Society, the publications
of the Appletons, of Putnam, and of the
enterprising booksellers of this city generally,
what bounds can we set to the offspring of
the typographic art? The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Herald</span></span> and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tribune</span></span> in their distinct circulation, consume
an aggregate of fifty thousand reams per
year. The Harpers, who have thrown John
Baskerville, and other eminent typographers
of Europe in the shade by the magnitude of
their operations, use one hundred reams of
paper daily, at six dollars per ream, and make
about ten volumes a minute or six thousand
a day. On a former occasion I stated to you
the agency which Franklin had in bringing
forward stereotype plates, as projected by
Dr. Colden, in this city, in 1779, and the fact
that the art was communicated to Didot in
Paris, by Franklin himself. I well remember
the anxious John Watts, when he showed me
his first undertaking in this branch of labor in
New-York, just forty years ago. It was a
copy of the Larger Catechism, the one I now
hold in my hand. Notwithstanding the
doubts of many, he felt confident of its ultimate
success, yet suffered by hope deferred.
What is now the state of the business in the
matter of stereotyping? The Harpers alone—a
single firm—have within their vaults
plates for more than two thousand volumes.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Need I dwell on the improved appliances
in the great art, which enrich the present
day, or on the influences now at work on
the intellectual man? Justly has it been
stated, that the press of a single office in this
city issues more matter than the industry of
the world, with all its scribes and illuminators,
in an entire year, previous the time of
Faust. Let us, then, reverence the press, as
our Franklin did. Let us cherish its freedom,
as the triumph of our fathers, if we
love the name of patriot. Let us teach our
children to acknowledge it the palladium of
our altars and our firesides. Let us recognize
it as the Great Instructor, knocking at every
door, and rendering every hovel, as well as
every palace, a school-house.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Nor is it solely on the score of quantity,
that we are to contemplate the measures now
in force for the disciplining of intellect, and
the rearing the moral edifice of the nation.
I have already remarked on the superior
ability of the press of our days in comparison
with that of the period through which some
of us have lived. The same energy which
has swelled its dimensions, has increased the
excellence of its material. Libraries so
abound, knowledge is so diffused, that individuals
qualified by scholastic powers, can be
called in requisition for the duties of every
department a successful journal demands.
There is moreover a happier recognition of
intellectual merit; reward is higher and
more certain; and there exists throughout
the community a noble estimation of productive
intellect. Instead of a scattered recruit
here and there in the ranks of literature,
we have armies at command, of well-disciplined
men; and the belief is not altogether
idle that, in due season, of these armies
there will be legions. Lovesick tales and Della
Cruscan poetry, have yielded to stately essays
on the business of life, in philosophy and in criticism,
while the native muse has often stronger
claims to our homage than the verses Dr. Johnson
has embalmed, and that have made the
fame of ancient bards. We no longer gaze at
the author as a drone in the hive of industry.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Our youth are taught that a true man may
be found among the luxurious and refined as
well in the humble avocations of life. Ambitious
of a national literature, we honor
those who have laid its foundations, in the
persons of an Irving, a Prescott, and a Bancroft,
a Longfellow, and a Hawthorne. We
gratefully remember our historical obligations
to Sparks. We feel the dignity of the scholar
when we summon to our aid the classical
Everett. Mourning with no feigned sorrow
the demise of that true son of our soil, the
lamented Cooper, we rejoice that a Bryant
and a Halleck, a Verplanck and a Paulding,
are still left with us. Warm in our feelings,
and made happier by the relations of intercourse,
we extend the cordial hand to Tuckerman,
our classical essayist and poet; to
Willis, for his felicitous comments on passing
events; to Griswold, for his admirable works
in criticism and biography; to Dr. Mayo, for
his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Kaloolah</span></span>; to Stoddard, for his exquisite
poems; to the generous Bethune, the orator
and bard; to Morris, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Melodies</span></span>; to Kimball,
for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">St. Leger Papers</span></span>; to Clark, for
his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Knickerbocker</span></span>; to Melville, for <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Typee</span></span>;
to Ik. Marvell, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Reveries</span></span>; to Ripley,
for his fine reviews; to Bigelow, for his book
on <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Jamaica</span></span>; to Bayard Taylor, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Views
A-Foot</span></span>; to Greeley, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Crystal Palace</span></span>
labors; and to Duyckinck, the son of our old
friend, the bookseller, for his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Literary World</span></span>.
In the name of the Republic, we give our
heartiest thanks to our intimate friend, the
learned Dr. Cogswell, as we look at the spacious
walls of the Astor Library.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The very great length to which I have
unconsciously extended these reminiscences,
forbids me from dwelling, as my heart and
your wishes dictate, upon the most glorious
name in American Printing, the immortal
Franklin's. His character and deeds, however,
are familiar to you all; and the language
of eulogy is needless in regard to one whose
fame increases with time, and whose transcendent
merits, the constant development of
that element he brought under human dominion
render daily more evident and memorable.
It is related, gentlemen, that when
the statues of the Roman Emperors were
carried in a triumphal procession, one was
omitted, and the name of that one was shouted
with more zeal than all the others inspired.<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page266">[pg 266]</span><a name="Pg266" id="Pg266" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
So I know it to be with us to-night. The
memory of Franklin is too ripe in our
hearts to require words; it is a spell that
sheds eternal glory on the typographical art;
it is the best encouragement of youthful energy;
it is revealed in every telegraphic despatch;
it hallows the name of our country to
the civilized world.</p>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc99" id="toc99"></a>
<a name="pdf100" id="pdf100"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Noctes Amicæ.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Of tipsy drollery, a correspondent of
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Evening Post</span></span> (Mr. Bryant himself, we
have no doubt), writes: "It is esteemed a
mark of a vulgar mind, to divert one's self at
the expense of a drunken man; yet we allow
ourselves to be amused with representations
of drunkenness on the stage and in comic
narratives. Nobody is ashamed to laugh at
Cassio in the play of Othello, when he has
put an enemy into his mouth to steal away
his brains. The personation which the elder
Wallack used to give us some years ago, of
Dick Dashall, very drunk, but very gentlemanly,
was one of the most irresistibly comic
things ever known. I have a mind to give
you a translation of a German ballad on a
tipsy man, which has been set to music, and
is often sung in Germany; it is rather droll
in the original, and perhaps it has not lost all
of its humor in being <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">overset</span></span>, as they call it,
into English. Here it is:"</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em">OUT OF THE TAVERN, ETC.</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Out of the tavern I've just stepped to-night</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Street! you are caught in a very bad plight.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Right hand and left hand are both out of place;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Street, you are drunk, 'tis a very clear case.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Moon, 'tis a very queer figure you cut;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">One eye is staring while t'other is shut.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Tipsy, I see; and you're greatly to blame;</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Old as you are 'tis a terrible shame.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Then the street lamps, what a scandalous sight!</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">None of them soberly standing upright.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Rocking and staggering; why, on my word,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Each of the lamps is drunk as a lord.</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">All is confusion; now isn't it odd?</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">I am the only thing sober abroad.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Sure it were rash with this crew to remain,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Better go into the tavern again.</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This is parodied or stolen by the clever author
of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Bon Gaultier Ballads</span></span>, in one of
his best pieces.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The famous Quaker <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Anthony Benezet</span></span>,
was accustomed to feed the rats in the area
before his house in Philadelphia. An old
friend who found him so engaged, expressed
some surprise that he so kindly treated such
pernicious vermin, saying, "They should rather
be killed and out of the way." "Nay,"
said good Anthony, "I will not treat them
so; thou wouldst make them thieves by maltreating
and starving them, but I make them
honest by feeding them, for being so fed, they
never prey upon any goods of mine." This
singular fact is very characteristic. When feeding
rats, the benevolent philosopher used to
stand in the area, and they would gather
round his feet like chickens. One of the
family once hung a collar about one of them,
which was seen for years after, feeding in
the group.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Des Cartes</span></span> fought at the siege of Rochelle,
and after a variety of adventures, established
himself in Holland, where he composed most
of his works. These abound in singular
theories and curious speculations, and their
spirit of independence aroused the same spirit
wherever they were read. Scholars and theologians
vied with each other in battling the
new opinions. The followers of Aristotle and
the followers of Locke arrayed themselves
against him. His novelties even drew the
attention of women from their fashions. "The
ladies of quality here, of late," says a writer
from Paris, in 1642, "addict themselves to
the study of philosophy, as the men; the ladies
esteeming their education defective, if
they cannot confute Aristotle and his disciples.
The pen has almost supplanted the exercise
of the needle; and ladies' closets, formerly
the shops of female baubles, toys, and
vanities, are now turned to libraries and sanctuaries
of learned works. There is a new
star risen in the French horizon, whose influence
excites the nobler females to this pursuit
of human science. It is the renowned Monsieur
Des Cartes, whose lustre far outshines
the aged winking tapers of Peripatetic Philosophy,
and has eclipsed the stagyrite, with
all the ancient lights of Greece and Rome.
'Tis this matchless soul has drawn so many
of the fairer sex to the schools. And they are
more proud of the title—Cartesian—and of
the capacity to defend his principles, than of
their noble birth and blood."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We find in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Courts of Europe at the Close
of the last Century</span></span>, by Henry Swinburne, the
following illustration of American manners:</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"An English officer, Colonel A
in a stage to New-York, and was extremely
annoyed by a free and enlightened citizen's
perpetually spitting across him, out of the window.
He bore it patiently for some time, till at last he
ventured to remonstrate, when the other said,
'Why, colonel, I estimate you're a-poking fun at
me—that I do. Now, I'm not a-going to chaw my
own bilge-water, not for no man. Besides, you
need not look so thundering ugly. Why, I've
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">practised</span></span> all my life, and could squirt through the
eye of a needle without touching the steel, let
alone such a great saliva-box as that there window.'
Colonel A
at last his anger got up, and he spat bang in his
companion's face, exclaiming, 'I beg you a thousand
pardons, squire, but I've not practised as
much as you have. No doubt, by the time we
reach New-York, I shall be as great a dabster as
you are.' The other rubbed his eye, and remained
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">bouche close</span></span>."</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page267">[pg 267]</span><a name="Pg267" id="Pg267" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In support of the hydropathic practice, and
in illustration of the effect of cold, we cite
an anecdote <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mignet</span></span> tells of the celebrated
French physician Broussais:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"Seized with a violent fever at Nimèguen,
Broussais was attended by two of his friends, who
each prescribed opposite remedies. Embarrassed
by such contradictory opinions, he resolved to follow
neither. Believing himself to be seriously in
danger, he jumped out of bed in the midst of this
raging fever, and almost naked sat down to his
escrutoire to arrange his papers. It was in the
month of January; the streets were covered with
snow. While thus settling his affairs the fever
abated, a sensation of freshness and comfort diffused
itself throughout his frame. Amazed at this
result, Broussais, like a bold theorist as he was,
converted his casual forgetfulness into an experience.
He boldly </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">threw open the window</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">, and for
some time inspired the cold winter air that blew
in upon him. Finding himself greatly benefited,
he concluded that cool drink would be as refreshing
to his stomach as cold air had been to his body.
He deluged his stomach with cold lemonade, and
in less than forty-eight hours he was well again!"</span></p>
</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The following amusing anecdote is told in
a work recently published in London of Tom
Cooke, the actor and musician:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"At a trial in the Court of King's Bench, June,
1833, betwixt certain publishing tweedledums and
tweedledees, as to the alleged piracy of an arrangement
of the 'Old English Gentleman,'—an old
English air, by the bye—Cooke was subpœnaed as
a witness. On his cross-examination by Sir James
Scarlet, afterwards Lord Abinger, for the opposite
side, that learned counsel rather flippantly questioned
him thus: 'Now, sir, you say that the two
melodies are the same, but different; now what
do you mean by that, sir?' To this Tom promptly
answered, 'I said that the notes in the two copies
were alike, but with a different accent, the one being
in common time, the other in sixth-eight time;
and, consequently, the position of the accented
notes was different.' Sir James—'What is musical
accent?' Cooke—'My terms are a guinea a
lesson, sir.' (A loud laugh.) Sir James (rather
ruffled)—'Never mind your terms here. I ask you
what is musical accent. Can you see it?' Cooke—'No.'
Sir James—'Can you feel it?' Cooke—'A
musician can.' (Great laughter.) Sir James
(very angry)—'Now, pray sir, don't beat about
the bush, but explain to his lordship and the jury,
who are supposed to know nothing about music,
the meaning of what you call accent.' Cooke—'Accent
in music, is a certain stress laid upon a
particular note, in the same manner as you would
lay a stress upon any given word for the purpose
of being better understood. Thus, if I were to
say, 'You are an </span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">ass</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%">—it rests on ass; but if I
were to say, '</span><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-size: 90%; font-style: italic">You</span></span><span style="font-size: 90%"> are an ass—it rests on you, Sir
James.' Reiterated shouts of laughter by the
whole court, in which the bench itself joined, followed
this repartee. Silence having been at length
obtained, the Judge, with much seeming gravity,
accosted the chop-fallen counsel thus: Lord Denman—'Are
you satisfied, Sir James?' Sir James
(deep red as he naturally was, to use poor Jack
Reeve's own words, had become scarlet in more
than name), in a great huff, said, 'The witness may
go down!'"</span></p>
</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A Portuguese paper gives some statistics
which could only be obtained under the spy
and secret police system. There are said to
be in Portugal 872,634 married couples, of
which the present condition is very nearly as
follows:—"Women who have left their husbands
for their lovers, 1,262. Husbands who
have left their wives for other women, 2,361.
Couples who have agreed to live separately,
33,120. Couples who live in open warfare,
under the same roof, 13,263. Couples who
cordially hate each other, but dissemble their
aversion under the appearance of love,
162,320. Couples who live in a state of tranquil
indifference, 510,132. Couples who are
thought by their acquaintances to be happy,
but are not themselves convinced of their own
felicity, 1,102. Couples that are happy as
compared with those that are confessedly unhappy,
131. Couples indisputably happy in
each other, 0. Total, 872,634."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The first duel in New England, was fought
with sword and dagger, between two servants.
Neither of them was killed, but both
were wounded. For this disgraceful offence,
they were formally tried before the whole
company (the first settlers), and sentenced to
have their "heads and feet tied together, and
so to be twenty-four hours, without meat or
drink." Their bravery all exploded in a little
while, and they plead piteously to be released,
which was finally done by the Governor
on their promising better behavior. "Such
was the origin," says Dr. Morse, "and such,
I may almost venture to say, was the termination
of the odious practice of duelling in
New England, for there have been very few
fought there since."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We are told by Ariosto of a warrior who
was so happily gifted that when his arms, his
legs, or even his head, happened to be chopped
off in battle, he could jump down from
his horse and replace the dissevered member.
Many modern humbugs are of this description;
they are real polipi; chop them into a thousand
pieces, and each piece will start up as
brisk and as lively as ever. Metaphysical
humbugs are the most difficult kind to deal
with. Contending with them is like wrestling
with spectres; there is not substance enough
to catch hold of.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Lately, at a sitting of the Norwegian legislature
at Christiana, a petition was presented
from the world-known fiddler, Ole Bull,
in which he solicited the creation of a national
theatre in that town, to receive a subvention
from the government, and to which a
dramatic school was to be attached. The
Assembly voted that the petition should be
taken into consideration, and appointed a
committee to draw up a report on it. M. Bull
has already founded, at his own cost, a theatre
in his native town, Bergen. M. Bull visits
this country now in search only of pleasure.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page268">[pg 268]</span><a name="Pg268" id="Pg268" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc101" id="toc101"></a>
<a name="pdf102" id="pdf102"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Authors and Books</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Gutzkow's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ritter vom Geiste</span></span> (Knights of
the Spirit) is at last finished, the ninth volume
having made its appearance. It has
faults of detail, and there are deficiencies in
spots, but as a whole it is praised as eminently
successful, and truly a new work. The idea
in some respects recalls the Wilhelm Meister
of Goethe, and the Nathan the Wise of
Lessing, but the execution has more force and
a larger and more imperious movement than
either. The Knights of the Spirit are a body
of men who are combined in an order to
which they give that name, and this book is
their history and that of the order. At the
same time there is nothing mystical, supernatural,
or merely fantastic about it, though its
spirit is humanitary and even socialistic. The
scene is in modern times, but though the
names of the heroes are German, and the circumstances
in which they are placed German,
the author has succeeded in producing a truly
cosmopolitan romance. The nine volumes
are sold in Germany for about $8 00.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Henry Taylor</span></span>, the author of Philip Van
Artevelde, is the subject of an article in the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Grenzboten</span></span>. The writer takes him, as the acknowledged
first living dramatic poet of England,
to be the best illustration of the nature
and characteristics of the English drama.
This drama is said to be more remarkable for
sharply-outlined and detailed characters, than
for the invention of exciting and consistent
action. The characters in all their peculiarities
are first created, and situations are made
and arranged for them afterward. The evil
of this is, that the whole thus becomes fragmentary,
and the particulars outweigh and
obscure the general spirit and intention of
the piece. Even Shakspeare, with his gigantic
genius, was not free from this defect.
His Merry Wives of Windsor, for instance, is
rich in comic situations and figures, but they
are arbitrarily put together, and every scene
has the character of an episode; the action
does not go forward in a true and consistent
course. Now-a-days the evil is worse, because
it is the fashion to substitute reflection for
natural feeling. Taylor is like those portrait
painters who paint the features so carefully
as to destroy the general character of the
face. His men and women are not alive and
genuine. Still their language is grave and
noble, their thoughts comprehensive, often
striking, and their emotions, though artificial,
are elaborated with great insight and
knowledge of the world. Compared with
the wretched creations of the French romanticists,
they are worthy of all praise. The
critic then proceeds to analyze Isaac Comnenus,
Philip Van Atevelde, and Fair Edwin,
setting forth with great fairness the excellencies
and faults of each.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A new contribution to an obscure but
most interesting part of European history is
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Deutschland in der Revolutions periode von</span></span>
1522-26, (Germany, in the Revolutionary
Period from 1522 to 26,) by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Joseph Edmund
Jörg</span></span>. The author has had access to a great
mass of original and hitherto unused materials,
especially diplomatic correspondence
and other documents in the Bavarian archives.
His view of the subject is very different
from that taken by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Zimmermann</span></span>, in his
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Peasants' War</span></span>, or by any other writer. He
mocks at the idea that this revolution grew
out of the evils and oppressions suffered by
the people, and finds its most powerful impulse
in the passion for innovation that
sprung up along with the revival of classical
studies in the middle ages.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The antique fashion of presenting poetic
works to the public, is revived in Germany
with great success. Professor <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Griepenkerl</span></span> of
Brunswick, whose tragedy of Robespierre
made a great sensation a year or more since,
is now reading his new play of the Girondists
to large audiences in the principal cities.
He has already been heard at Brunswick,
Leipzig, Dresden, and Bremen, and proposes
to visit other places on the same errand. The
play, which is a tragedy of course, is much
admired, though it is not thought to be adapted
to the stage. The Girondists were not
men of action, but orators and thinkers. The
final scene in the play is the famous banquet
before they were taken to execution. Charlotte
Corday is among the characters; the
women are said not to be drawn as truly and
powerfully as the men.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Carlyle's</span></span> Life of Stirling is criticised in the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Grenzboten</span></span>, which calls Carlyle the strangest
of all philosophers. This book is said, however,
to be, on the whole, clearer and more
intelligible than most of his former productions.
Still, like most works of the new romantic
school in England, of which Carlyle
is the chief, it aims rather to give expression
to the ideas and abilities of the author, than
to do justice to its subject. But it is in Warren's
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lily and the Bee</span></span>, that the school appears
in full bloom. This is said to consist
mostly of exclamation points, and is written
in a sort of lapidary style, that deals in riddles,
pathos without object, sentimentality
with irony, world-pain, and allusions to all
the kingdoms of heaven and earth, without
any explanation as to what relation these allusions
bear to each other, and with a Titanic
pessimism as its predominating tone, which
first rouses itself up to take all by storm, and
finishes by being soothed into happy intoxication
by the odors of a lily. This is better treatment
than <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Lily and the Bee</span></span> gets at home.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page269">[pg 269]</span><a name="Pg269" id="Pg269" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the second volume of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Shakspeare as
Protestant, Politician, Psychologist and Poet</span></span>,
by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Ed. Vehse</span></span>—spoken of as being "even
more uninteresting than the first," we find
the two following extraordinary ideas. Firstly,
that Shakspeare followed a theory of
physical <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">temperaments</span></span> in his characters—that
Hamlet was a representative of the melancholy
or nervous, Othello of the choleric,
Romeo of the sanguine, and Falstaff of the
phlegmatic. Secondly, that in Falstaff,
Shakspeare parodied—himself! Or to give
his own words, "We may suppose that
Shakspeare's physical constitution inclined
to corpulence, and inspired in him the disposition
to the life of a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">bon vivant</span></span>. His intimacy
with the Earl of Southampton may
have favored this disposition, since they led
for a long time a dissipated tavern-life, and
were rivals in love matters!" The work is
principally made up of extracts from Shakspeare's
plays, to every which extract we find
appended "How admirable,"—"Excellent,"
and similar aids to those who are not familiar
with the English bard.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We commend to the attention of philologists
Das <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Gothische Runenalphabet</span></span>, (or The
Gothic Runic Alphabet,) recently published
by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Hertz</span></span> of Berlin. "Before Wulfila, the
Goths had an alphabet of twenty-five letters,
formed according to the same principles, and
bearing nearly the same names as the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Runes</span></span>
of the Anglo-Saxons and Northmen, and probably
arranged in the same order of succession.
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Wulfila</span></span> adopted the Grecian alphabet,
which through his modification was received
by the Goths to the old twenty-five letters."
This is the theory propounded in the work,
which is not wanting, as we learn, in instructive
information. In connection with this we
may notice a book which has been deemed
worthy of a modern English republication in
elegant style, the often referred to <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Scriptural
Poems</span></span> of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Cædmon</span></span>, in Anglo-Saxon, an edition
of which, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">R. W. Bouterwek</span></span>, with
an Anglo-Saxon Glossary, has recently been
published by Bædeher of Elberfeldt.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Preussische Zeitung</span></span> states that <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M.
Hanke</span></span>, a learned Bohemian, is publishing, in
Prague, a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">fac-simile</span></span> of the Gospels on which
the Kings of France have always been sworn
at their coronation at Rheims. The manuscript
volume is in the Slavonian language,
and has been preserved at Rheims ever since
the twelfth century, but it has only been lately
discovered in what language it was written.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The eleventh volume of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Monumenta
Germaniæ Historica</span></span> inde ab anno Christi 500
usque ad annum 1500 auspiciis societ, aperiendis
fontibus serum German medii ævi edid,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">G. H. Pertz</span></span>, has just made its appearance.
This work is regarded as a stupendous effort
of erudition and historical acumen, even in
Germany.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Hagberg</span></span>, a professor at the University
of Upsal, has just published at Stockholm a
version of the complete works of Shakspeare,
the first ever made in the Swedish language.
It is in twelve thick octavo volumes. The
Shaksperian Society of London having received
a presentation copy of this translation,
has returned a vote of thanks to Dr. Hagberg,
accompanied by forty volumes of the Society's
publications, all relating to the great dramatist
and the state of dramatic art in his time.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dunlop's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of Fiction</span></span> has been translated
into German by Professor Liebrecht of
Liege, and enlarged so as to be much more
complete than the original. The version
bears the title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Geschichte der Prosadichtung
oder, Geschichte der Romane, Novellen
und Mährchen</span></span> (History of Prose Poetry, or
History of Romances, Novels and Traditional
Tales). It gives a complete account of the
most prominent fictions from the Greek romances
down to the present day, and is quite
as valuable for those who like to take their
novels condensed, as for those who make a
historical study of literature.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Holtei</span></span>, the German poet, has published a
four-volume novel, called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Die Vagabunden</span></span>
(The Vagabonds). It is a curious and successful
book. It treats of the various classes that
get their living by amusing others, not merely
of theatrical and musical artists, but of circus-riders,
ventriloquists, jugglers, rope-dancers,
puppet-showmen, &amp;c. Indeed, actors and
musicians are only introduced casually, while
the lower classes, if we may so call them, of
wandering artists, make up the book; and
they make it up not in the form of caricatures
or exaggerations, but as genuine living characters,
with the faults and virtues that really
belong to men of their respective professions
The story is a good one, and is varied with
all sorts of strange adventures.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In poetry we observe the attractive title
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Æolian Harp of the World's Poetry</span></span>,
a collection of poems of all countries and
ages, "dedicated to German ladies and
maidens," by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Ferd. Schmidt</span></span>. Also by the
same collector, a Household Treasury of the
most beautiful Ballads, Romances, and Poetic
Legends of all Times and Nations; by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Bruno
Lindner</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Four Tales</span></span>, and from the Countess
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Agnes Schwerin</span></span>, a new edition of
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">What I heard from the bird</span></span>. Were we
confident that the Countess were intimately
familiar with English poetry, we should feel
half inclined to accuse her of having taken
this title from</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"High diddle ding, I heard a bird sing."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">G. Puslitz</span></span> has "thrown forth," as Bacchus
threw the wreath of Ariadne, a "garland of
Stories," entitled <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">What the Forest Tells</span></span>.
Whether, like the wreath alluded to, it will
reach the stars, we must leave our readers or
his to decide.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page270">[pg 270]</span><a name="Pg270" id="Pg270" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In Science, we observe the publication of
a piece of eccentric nonsense such as emanates
at the present day only from a weak
brother in Germany, or occasionally from a
would-be <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">original</span></span> in New England. The
work to which we refer is the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Natur und
Geist</span></span> (or <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Nature and Spirit</span></span>) of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Johann
Riohers</span></span>. In the second volume he attempts
to utterly overwhelm, confound, and destroy
Newton's Theory of Attraction, by such an
argument as the following. "Let any man
jump from a height, in descending he feels
no <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">attraction</span></span> to the Earth. How hasty and
absurd therefore is it to attribute the movement
in question to such an attraction."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A new collection of German Domestic Legends
(<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Haus Mährchen</span></span>) has been published
at Leipzig, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J.W. Wolf</span></span>, a distinguished
German philologist. His Legends closely resemble
those collected by Grimm, and, like
them, are curious and instructive. He obtained
them, one from a Gipsey, others from
peasants in the mountain districts, and others
from some companies of Hessian soldiers.
He remarks that many such ancient legends
are yet floating about among the German
people, and that they ought to be collected
before they are lost.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Zend Avesta</span></span>, or On the things of Heaven
and the World beyond the Grave, is the title
of a new book in three volumes just published
at Leipzig, in German, of course, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Gustav
Theodor Fechnor</span></span>. The author attempts
to prove the possibility, if not the certainty,
of a future life of the individual after death.
His demonstrations are drawn from the analogies
of the natural world. He exhibits a
wide acquaintance with nature and with literature,
but is not thought to have made any
positive additions to psychological science.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Those who are conversant with the curiosities
of the Middle Ages, and have read the
entertaining history of "<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ye Nigromancer
Virgilius</span></span>," in which the Mantuan bard lives
no longer in the magic of song, but that of
literal sorcery, will peruse with pleasure the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Virgil's Fortleben im Mittelalter</span></span>, or The
Life of Virgil continued in the Middle Ages,
by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">G. Rappert</span></span>. Of all the wild romantic
legends which the romantic time brought
forth, none surpass in singularity and interest
this singular narration.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Temperance Tales</span></span> are produced in Germany
as well as elsewhere. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Jeremias Gotthelf</span></span>
is the best author who there cultivates
this style of composition. His <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Dürsli, the
Brandy drinker</span></span>, has just passed through a
fourth edition, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">How five Maidens miserably
perished in Brandy</span></span>, to a second. Gotthelf has
the talent of combining great dramatic interest
and artistic freshness of narration, with
a moral purpose. Hence the popularity of
these little books.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Niehl's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Bûrgerliche Gesellschaft</span></span> (Civil Society)
is greatly praised by critics, as the most
valuable work lately published in Germany,
or indeed in Europe, upon the State of Society
and the causes operating to change it.
Especially good are its pictures of the different
classes in Germany, such as the nobility,
the peasantry, the industrious middle class,
and the proletaries. These pictures are said
to have the minuteness and fidelity of daguerreotypes.
The chapter on the "proletaries
of intellectual labor," gives any thing but
a flattering account of the literary classes on
the continent. Those classes are held up as
in a great measure perverted, empty, and
dangerous. Niehl divides Society in Germany
into four great classes, namely: the peasantry,
the aristocracy, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">bourgeoisie</span></span> or middle
class, and the proletariat, or mere laborers
for wages. The last he regards as the
decaying and corrupting class, a sort of scum
in hot effervesence. This is, however, one
of the classes that produce social movement;
the other is the middle class; the conservative
or stationary classes are the peasantry
and aristocracy. The learned professions he
reckons among the middle class. He makes
no distinction between the proletaries who
live by the soil, and those who live by working
in connection with manufactures and mechanical
trades.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Another contribution to Goethean literature
is the Correspondence between the great
Poet and his intimate friend Knebel, which
has just appeared in Germany in two volumes.
The letters extend from 1774 to 1832,
and contain the free expression of Goethe's
opinions on a great variety of important subjects,
as well as many interesting particulars
in his personal history, hitherto unknown.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Wetzstein</span></span>, Prussian Consul at Damascus,
has returned to Europe, bringing a
valuable collection of Arabic, Turkish and
Persian manuscripts, which he expects to sell
to the Royal Library at Berlin. Of especial
value is a history of Persia during the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, which casts
light on several portions of Persian history
that have hitherto been obscure.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Longfellow's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Evangeline</span></span> has been translated
into German and published at Hamburg.
The name of the translator is not given. The
critics find that the poem has a very marked resemblance
to Goethe's Herman and Dorothea.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Mayo's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Berber</span></span> has been translated
into the German by Mr. L. Dubois, and published
at Leipzig.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A new and splendid edition of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Pilgrim's
Progress</span></span> has been published at Leipzig,
in German. It is curious to see the good
old book discussed by the critics as if it were
a new production.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page271">[pg 271]</span><a name="Pg271" id="Pg271" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">German Historical Literature has lately
been enriched by numerous valuable works.
Among these we notice <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Wenck's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Fränkische
Reich</span></span> (Frankish Empire), which treats that
subject, from A.D. 843 to 861, with instructive
thoroughness and philosophical insight;
two essays by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Ficker</span></span>, the one on Reinhald
von Dassel, the Chancellor of Ferdinand I.,
and the other on the attempt of Henry VI.
to render the German empire hereditary;
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Arnthen's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of Carinthia</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Rink's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tirol</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Palazky's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of Bohemia</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Minutoli's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Elector Frederic I.</span></span>;
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Riedel's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ten years of the History of the Ancestors
of the Royal House of Prussia</span></span>; the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of Schleswig Holstein</span></span>, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">George
Waitz</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Ruckert's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Annals of German History</span></span>;
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">G. Philip's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Outlines of the History of
the German Empire and German Law</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Gengler's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of German Law</span></span>; the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Coins
of the German Emperors and Kings in the
Middle Ages</span></span>, a large work by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Cappe</span></span>; the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Celts and Ancient Helvetians</span></span>, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. B. Brozi</span></span>;
and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Campaigns of the Bavarians</span></span> from 1643
to 1645, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. Hellmann</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mayr's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Mann von
Rinn</span></span> (Man of Rinn) deserves special mention.
The man of Rinn is Joseph Speckbacher, the
hero of the war of 1809 in the Tyrol. His
deeds, and those of his countrymen, are here
narrated in a style as attractive as the facts
are authentic.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In all the States of the German Confederation
there are 2,651 booksellers, 400 of whom
deal only in their own publications, 2,200 sell
books, but do not publish, and 451 keep
general assortments of books, and publish
also. At Berlin there are 129 booksellers, at
Leipzic, 145, at Vienna, 52, at Stuttgard, 50,
and at Frankfort, 36. A hundred years ago
there were only 31 at Leipzic and 6 at Berlin,
and at two fairs held at Leipzic in 1750, only
350 German booksellers' establishments were
represented. No one is allowed in Germany
to become a bookseller without a license from
the government, and in Prussia the applicant
has to pass a special examination.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Those desirous of acquiring languages by
wholesale, may try a recent work by Captain
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. Nepomuk Szöllözy</span></span>, with which the scholar
can learn, according to the Ollendorffian system,
French, German, English, Italian, Russian,
Spanish, Hungarian, Wallachian and
Turkish. Phrases and vocabularies of all the
languages are appended.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A second edition of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Adolf Stahr's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Preussische
Revolution</span></span>, has appeared in Germany,
revised by the author and dedicated to Macaulay.
No recent book in Germany has
been more successful than this.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Max Schlesinger's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Wanderings through
London</span></span> are announced at Berlin; the first
volume is already published. One of the
chapters treats of "Linkoln's-In-Fields."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We learn from the last number of the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal Asiatique</span></span>, that <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Wöpcke</span></span>, a mathematician
who devotes himself to Arabic
studies, has discovered in some Arabic manuscripts
two works purporting to be by Euclid,
which have not been preserved in the Greek
original, nor are any where referred to as
his by ancient mathematical writers. One is
a treatise on the lever, and the other on the
division of planimetric figures. The authenticity
of the two is thought to be perfectly
established by collateral evidence.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Hungarian author. Baron Eötvös, has
just published a work called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Ueber den Einfluss
der Neuen Ideen auf den Staat</span></span> (On the
influence of new ideas upon the State). He
argues that the students of social and political
science should confine themselves strictly
to the method received in the natural sciences,
and employed there with such success;
first establish what are the genuine experimental
phenomena, and then by induction settle
the law which produces and governs them.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We expect a treat from <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Moritz Wagner's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Reise nach Persien und dem Lande der Kurden</span></span>
(Journey to Persia and Kurdistan) the
first volume of which is advertised in our last
files of German papers. Wagner is one of
the best of travellers, and we shall look for the
book itself with some impatience. The second
volume is announced as to appear in
three weeks after the first.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The second part of the third volume of
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Humboldt's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Kosmos</span></span>, has just appeared at
Stuttgart. It treats of the heavenly nebulae,
suns, planets, comets, aurora borealis, zodiacal
light, meteors, and meteoric stones. This
completes the uranological part of the description
of the physical universe. Humboldt has
already begun his fourth volume, and expects
to finish it before June next.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Kossuth</span></span> is speculated on by a German
bookseller, who advertises a work giving a
complete account of his sayings and doings
since the capitulation at Vilagos, including
his flight to Turkey and his residence there,
the negotiations for his release, his journey
from Kutahia to England, and his tarry there
up to sailing for America, with a portrait.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">The Rev. Henry T. Cheever's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Life in the
Sandwich Islands</span></span> (noticed by us lately in the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">International</span></span>), is reprinted in London, by
Bentley, and translated in German for a publisher
at Berlin.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Silvio Pellico</span></span>, so famous for his works,
his imprisonments and sufferings, is passing
the winter in Paris.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The complete works of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Clemens Brentano</span></span>,
have been brought out at Frankfort, in
seven volumes.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page272">[pg 272]</span><a name="Pg272" id="Pg272" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Two books of travels in Scandinavia have
just appeared in Germany. One is the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Bilder
aus dem Norden</span></span> (Pictures of the North),
by Professor <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Oscar Schmidt</span></span> of Jena; and
the other <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hägringar</span></span>, or a Journey through
Sweden, Lapland, Norway, and Denmark, in
1850, by a young author. Professor Schmidt
amply repays the reader, which is more than
can always be said of the author of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hägringar</span></span>.
Both works are, however, especially
worthy the attention of those who wish to
study the natural history and ethnography of
the countries in question.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Madame Von Weber</span></span>, widow of the composer,
who has for some years resided at Vienna,
has applied to the Emperor of Austria
for permission to dispose of the three original
MSS. scores of her husband's operas, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Der
Freischütz, Eutryanthe</span></span>, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Oberon</span></span>. These
were in the Royal Library at Vienna; and
she purposes offering them to the three sovereigns
of Saxony, Prussia, and England,—in
which respective countries they were originally
produced. The Emperor has caused the
MSS. to be delivered to her.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Professor Nuytz</span></span>, whose work on canon
law was recently condemned by the Holy See,
has resumed his lectures at Turin. The lecture-room
was crowded, and the learned professor
was received with loud applause. He
adverted to the hostility of the clergy, and
to the Papal censures of his work, which censures
he declared to be in direct opposition to
the rights of the civil power. He expressed
his thanks to the ministry for having refused
to deprive him of his chair.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A valuable contribution to Italian history
is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Die Carafa von Maddaloni, Neapel unter
Spanische Herrschaft</span></span> (Naples under Spanish
Domination), just published in Germany, by
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Alfred von Reumont</span></span>, a member of the Prussian
Legation at Florence, who, more than
almost any other man, has made a study of the
history of that part of Italy, and who in this
work has had access to a great mass of new
documents. He writes as a monarchist, but
his facts may be relied on. The work is in
two volumes.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Every body remembers the noise made in
New-York some fifteen years since by the
revelations of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Maria Monk</span></span>. We notice a
translation of her famous disclosures advertised,
with all sorts of trumpet blowing, in
our German papers.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An edition of the complete works of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Kepler</span></span>
is preparing in Germany, under the supervision
of Prof. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Frisch</span></span>, of Stuttgart. The
manuscripts of the great astronomer, preserved
at St. Petersburg, have been examined
for the purpose, with rich results. It is also
proposed to erect a monument to Kepler at
Stuttgart.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Sixteen German books were prohibited in
Russia in August last; among them were <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Fontaine's</span></span><span class="tei tei-hi"></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Poems</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Görre's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Christian Mysticism</span></span>,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Kutz's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Manual of Sacred History</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Schmidt's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Death of Lord Byron</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Kinkel's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Truth without
Poetry</span></span>, and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Strauss's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Life Questions</span></span>. Of
eleven other works, a few pages from each
were prohibited; among these was the German
version of Lieutenant <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Lynch's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">United
States Expedition to the Jordan and the Dead
Sea</span></span>. These works are allowed to enter Russia
after having the objectionable pages cut out.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The science of landscape gardening is enriched
by a new work of value just published
at Leipzig, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Rudolph Liebeck</span></span>, the director
of the public garden in that city. It is called
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Die bildenden Garten Kunst in seinen Modernen
Formen</span></span> (The Modern Constructive Art
of Gardening). It has twenty colored plates.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Cotta</span></span>, of Stuttgart, is preparing to publish
a splendid illustrated edition of Goethe's
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Faust</span></span>. The designs are to be by an artist
well known in Germany, Engelbert Seibertz.
The work is to be published in numbers.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The historical remains and letters of George
Spalatin have been published at Weimar.
They are a valuable addition to the history
of the Reformation.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is remarkable that the only oriental nation
whose literature has much resemblance
to ours, and has a direct practical value for
us, is the Chinese. For instance, the works
of this people upon agriculture abound in
practical information, which may be made
immediately useful in Europe and America.
We noticed, some time since, the treatise on
the raising and care of silk worms, translated
and published at Paris, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Stanislas Julien</span></span>,
which was so warmly welcomed in
France as a timely addition to what was
there known upon the subject. It seems that
this work was but a small portion of an extensive
Cyclopedia of Agriculture in use in
China, where the science of tilling the soil
has in many respects been developed to an
astonishing degree of perfection. This cyclopedia,
M. Hervey, a French scholar, whose
knowledge of the Eastern languages is accompanied
by an equally profound love of
farming, has undertaken to translate entire.
This is a difficult and tedious enterprise, especially
on account of the mass of botanical
and technical expressions which occur in the
work, and of which the dictionaries furnish
no explanation. Meanwhile M. Hervey has
published some of the results of his studies in
a work called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Investigations on Agriculture
and Gardening among the Chinese</span></span>. He mentions
several varieties of fruits, vegetables,
and trees, which might advantageously be introduced
into France and Algiers; he also
analyzes the Cyclopedia, and shows what are
the difficulties in translating it.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page273">[pg 273]</span><a name="Pg273" id="Pg273" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A remarkable contribution to our knowledge
of China, is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Biot</span></span>'s recent translation
of the book called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu-li</span></span>. It seems that in
the twelfth century before Christ, the second
dynasty that had ruled the country, that of
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Thang</span></span>, fell by its own vices, and the empire
passed into the hands of Wu-wang, the head
of the princely family of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu-li</span></span>. Wu-wang
was a great soldier and statesman; he confided
to his brother Tscheu-Kong, a man evidently
of extraordinary political genius, the
moral and administrative reformation of the
empire. He first laid the foundation of a reform
in moral ideas by an addition to the Y-King
or sacred book, which the Chinese revere
and incessantly study, but which still remains
an unintelligible mystery for Europeans. Of
his administrative reforms a complete record
is preserved in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu-li</span></span>, and nothing could
be easier to understand.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">When the Tscheus thus came into power,
they found in existence a powerful feudal
aristocracy, from which they themselves proceeded,
and which they must tolerate. Accordingly,
they recognized within the imperial
dominions sixty-three federal jurisdictions,
which were hereditary, but whose
rulers were obliged to administer according
to the laws and methods of the empire. Having
made this concession, they abolished all
other hereditary offices, and established instead,
a vast system of centralization, such as
the world has never seen equalled elsewhere.
The administration, according to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu-li</span></span>,
is divided among six ministries, which were
also divided into sections, and the executive
functions descend regularly and systematically
to the lowest official, and include the
entire movement of society. The emperor
and the feudal princes are restrained by formalities
and usage, as well as by the expression
of disapprobation; and the officials of
every grade by their hierarchical dependency,
and by a system of incessant oversight; and
finally, the people by proscription, and the
education, industrial, as well as mental and
moral, which the State dispenses to them.
The sole idea in which this astonishing system
rests, is that of the State, whose office is
to care for all that can contribute to the public
good, and which regulates the action of
every individual with a view to this end. In
his organization, Tscheu-Kong excelled every
thing that the most centralized governments
of Europe have devised.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Tscheu family remained in power for
five centuries, and was finally broken down
by the feudal element they had preserved.
But so deep was the impress of Tscheu-Kong
upon the nation, that after centuries of revolutions
and civil war, it returned to his institutions
and principles, and it is by them and
in a great degree in their exact forms, that
China is now governed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In form the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu-li</span></span> is like an imperial
almanac of our own times. It is, however,
much more complete, because Tscheu-Kong
gives in it a mass of detailed instructions, in
order to make the officials aware of their duties
and the precise limits of their authority.
Thus the work affords a quite exact picture
of the social condition of China at that time.
There is no other monument of antiquity with
which it can be compared, except the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Manus</span></span>,
the Indian book of law. The difference is,
that in China the intellectual activity was altogether
political, and the public organization
altogether imperial and political; while in India
the mental activity was metaphysical, and
the public organization altogether municipal.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The translation of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tscheu</span></span> was not published
till after M. Biot's decease; it was
brought out by his father, with the assistance
of M. Stanislas Julien.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The library of the famous Cardinal Mezzofanti
is about to be sold, and the catalogue is
already printed—in Italian, of course. It is one
of the most extensive and valuable collection
of works in various languages ever made, and
it is to be hoped that it may not be disposed
of at the sale, but pass all together into some
public library—that of some university would
be most appropriate. To indicate the contents
of the catalogue, we give the titles of
the different parts: Books in Albanian or
Epirotic, Arabic, Armenian, American (Indian
dialects of Brazil, Mexico, Paraguay,
Peru, United States), Bohemian, Chaldaic,
Chinese (Cochin-Chinese, Trin-Chinese, Japanese),
Danish (Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic,
Laplandic), Hebrew (Antique, Rabbinic,
Samaritan), Egyptian, or Coptic-Egyptian
and Coptic, Arabic, Etrusean, Phœnician,
Flemish, French (Breton-French, Lorraine-French,
Provençal), Gothic and Visi-Gothic,
and Greek and Greek-Latin, Modern Greek,
Georgian or Iberian, Cretian or Rhetian,
Illyrian, Indo-oriental (Angolese, Burmese
or Avian, Hindostanee, Malabar, Malayan,
Sanscrit), English (Arctic, Breton or Celtic,
Scotch-Celtic, Scotch, Irish, Welch), Italian
(Fineban dialect, Maltese, Milanese, Sardinian,
Sicilian), Kurdistanee or Kurdic, Latin, Maronite
and Syriac Maronite, Oceanic (Australian),
Dutch, Persian, Polish, Portuguese (various
dialects), Slavonian (Carniolan, Serbian,
Ruthenian, Slavo-Wallachian), Syriac, Spanish
(Catalan, Biscayan), Russian, Turkish,
Hungarian, Gipsey.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The French historian <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Michelet</span></span>, deprived
of his professorship in the College of France,
is devoting himself more than ever to literature.
His last work, of which an authorized
translation has just appeared in London, is
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Martyrs of Russia</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Michel Nicolas</span></span>, one of the ablest among
the French theologico-ethical writers, has
published a translation of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Considerations
on the Nature and Historical Developments
of Christian Philosophy</span></span>, by Dr. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Ritter</span></span>, of
the University of Gottingen.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page274">[pg 274]</span><a name="Pg274" id="Pg274" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Schonenberger</span></span>, a music-publisher at
Paris, has purchased from the heirs of Paganini
the copyright of his works, and is now
publishing them, under the editorial supervision
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Achille Paganini</span></span>, the son of the
great violinist. The edition will comprise
every thing that he left behind in writing.
Hector Berlioz speaks with enthusiasm in the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal des Debats</span></span> of the two grand concertos
which have just appeared, one of them containing
the marvellous rondo of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">campanella</span></span>.
Berlioz speaks in high praise of Paganini's
genius as a composer. A volume would
be required, he says, to indicate the new effects,
the ingenious methods, the grand and
noble forms which he discovered, and even
the orchestral combinations, which before him
were not suspected. In spite of the rapid
progress which, thanks to Paganini, the violin
is making at the present day in respect of
mechanical execution, his compositions are
yet beyond the skill of most violinists, and in
reading them it is hardly possible to conceive
how their author was able to execute them.
Unfortunately he was not able to transmit
to his successors the vital spark which animated
and rendered <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">human</span></span> those astonishing
prodigies of mechanism.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Philarete Chasles</span></span>, one of the literary
critics of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal des Debats</span></span>, has published,
at Paris, a book called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Etudes sur la Litterateur
et les Mæurs des Anglo-Americanis</span></span>,
which abounds in those curious blunders that
some French authors seem to be destined to
when they write upon topics connected with
foreign countries. For instance, he makes
the pilgrims of Plymouth to have been the
founders of Philadelphia, New-York, and
Boston. Buffalo he sets down opposite to
Montreal, speaks of the puritans of Pennsylvania
as near neighbors of Nova Scotia, and
extends Arkansas to the Rocky Mountains.
At New-York his regret is that a railroad has
destroyed the beauty of Hoboken, and at New
Orleans he laments that marriages between
whites and Creoles are interdicted. Of Cooper,
Irving, Bryant, Audubon, and Longfellow,
he speaks in terms of just praise, but Willis is
not mentioned. Bancroft and Hildreth are
mentioned as historians, Prescott is spoken
of briefly in connection with his Ferdinand
and Isabella, while his other works are not
alluded to. To Herman Melville, M. Chasles
devotes fifty pages, while Mr. Ticknor has not
even the honor of a mention. The author of
this work is very far from doing justice either
to American literature or to himself.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Five of the nine intended volumes of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Lafuente's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">General History of Spain</span></span> from the
remotest times to the present day, have appeared
in Paris.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In Paris a new edition is announced of the
best French versions of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Fenimore Cooper's</span></span>
works—six or eight illustrated volumes.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Guizot</span></span> is about to publish a new volume
at Paris, with the title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Shakspeare et son
Temps</span></span> (Shakspeare and his Times). It is to be
composed of his Life of Shakspeare, and the
articles that he has written at various times
upon different plays. The only novelty in it is
a notice on Hamlet which was prepared expressly
for this publication. He regards both
Macbeth and Othello as better dramas than
Hamlet, but thinks the last contains more
brilliant examples of Shakspeare's sublimest
beauties and grossest faults. "Nowhere,"
says Guizot, "has he unveiled with more
originality, depth and dramatic effect, the inmost
state of a great soul: but nowhere has
he more abandoned himself to the caprices,
terrible or burlesque, of his imagination, and
to that abundant intemperance of a mind
pressed to get out its ideas without choosing
among them, and bent on rendering them
striking by a strong, ingenious, and unexpected
mode of expression, without any regard
to their truth and natural form." The
French critic also thinks that on the stage
the effect of Hamlet is irresistible.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A Capital work on Paris has just been
published at Berlin, from the pen of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Friedrich
Szarvady</span></span>, a Hungarian, who has resided
for several years in Paris. The titles
of the chapters are:—Paris in Paris; Strangers
in Paris; Parisian Women; Street Eloquence;
the Temple of Jerusalem (the Bourse);
Salons and Conversation; Dancing, Song,
and Flowers; the Ball at the Grand Opera;
Artist Life; the Press; the Feuilleton; History
on a Public Square; Lamartine, Cavaignac,
Thiers; Louis Bonaparte. Szarvady observes
sharply, and writes with as much grace
and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">esprit</span></span> as a Frenchman. Nothing can be
more taking than his pages. They deserve a
translation from the German into English.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Villergas</span></span>, the Spanish historian, who in
one of his recent works drew a parallel between
Espartero and Narvaez which excited
great attention at Madrid and in other parts
of Spain, has just been condemned by the
court which has charge of the offences of the
press, to a fine of twenty thousand reals, or
twenty-five hundred dollars, for the sin
against public order and private character
contained in that parallel.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An interesting and valuable series of articles
reviewing historically the systems of
land tenure which have prevailed in different
countries, is appearing in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Journal des
Débats</span></span> from the pen of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Henry Trianon</span></span>.
The systems of India and China have already
been examined.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The termagant wife of Sir Edward Bulwer
Lytton has just published <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The School for Husbands</span></span>,
a novel founded on the life and times
of Moliere. Probably her own husband is
shot at in all the chapters.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page275">[pg 275]</span><a name="Pg275" id="Pg275" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The books on modern French history would
already fill an Alexandrian library, and every
month produces new ones. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Leonard
Gallois</span></span>, a well-known historical writer, announces
a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Revolution of February,
1848</span></span>, in <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">five</span></span> large octavos, with forty-one
portraits. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Barante</span></span>'s <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Convention</span></span>
will consist of six octavos, of which three
are published, and the last is accompanied by
it biographical sketch of each of the seven
hundred and fifty members. The period embraced
in this work is from 1792 to 1795, inclusive.
There is a new <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the City of
Lyons</span></span>, in three octavos, by the city librarian.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Letters and unpublished Essays of
Count</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Joseph de Maistre</span></span> have been brought
out at Paris, in two volumes octavo. The
letters show the celebrated author in a new
and pleasing light; a tone of genial unreserve
prevails in many of them, which those who
have become familiar with his brilliant, dogmatic,
and paradoxical intellect, in his more
elaborate writings, would hardly suppose him
capable of. No writer, of this century at
least, has more powerfully set forth the doctrines
of the Roman Catholic Church than he.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Political Situation of Cuba</span></span>, a volume
published in Paris, by Don <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Antonio Saco</span></span>, is
commended in the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Revue des Deux Mondes</span></span>.
Don Antonio was one of the most distinguished
intelligences and liberals of the precious
island: he argues against independence, or
annexation to the American Union: he suggests
various arrangements by which Spain
could safely establish political freedom in Cuba,
and he thinks administrative and judicial
reforms to counteract the worst ills of her
present situation, might be accomplished.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A New edition of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Sharon Turner</span></span>'s <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History
of the Anglo-Saxons</span></span> has just appeared
in London, with important additions and revision.
The first edition of Turner's History
was published in London more than fifty
years ago. At the time when the first volume
appeared, the subject of Anglo-Saxon
antiquities had been nearly forgotten by the
British public, although the most venerated
laws, customs, and institutions of the nation
originated before the Norman conquest. The
Anglo-Saxon manuscripts lay unexamined in
archives, and the important information they
contained had never been made a part of general
history. Mr. Turner undertook a careful
and patient investigation of all the documents
belonging to the period preserved in
the kingdom, and the result of his labors was
the work in question, which at once gave rise
to an almost universal passion for the records
and remains of the Anglo-Saxon people, and
called forth general applause from the best
minds of England. A good edition of his
History was published several years ago by
Carey and Hart of Philadelphia, but it is
now, we believe, out of print.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Rev. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">John Howard Hinton</span></span>, author
of a well-known History of the United States,
has published, in London, a volume under the
title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Test of Experience</span></span>, in which he
has presented a masterly argument for the
voluntary principle in matters of religion.
The "test of experience" is in this, as in all
other things, the best of tests, and the religious
institutions of the United States can well
bear its application. One of the most noticeable
results of the non-interference of the
State is pointed out in the following passage:</p>

<div class="block tei tei-quote" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">"To travellers in the United States, no fact has
been more immediately or more powerfully striking
than the total absence of religious rivalry.
Amidst such a multitude of sects, an inhabitant of
the old world naturally, and almost instinctively
looks for one that sets up exclusive pretensions
and possesses an actual predominance. But he
finds nothing of the kind. Neither presbyterianism,
or prelacy, nor any other form of ecclesiasticism,
makes the slightest effort to lift its head
above its fellow. And with the resignation of exclusive
pretensions, the entire ecclesiastical strife
has ceased, and the din of angry war has been
hushed; and here, at length, the voluntary principle
is able to exhibit itself in its true colors, as a
lover of peace and the author of concord. It is
busied no longer with the arguing of disputed
claims, but throws its whole energy into free and
combined operations for the extension of Christianity.
The general religious energy embodies itself
in a thousand forms; but while there is before the
church a vast field to which the activities of all
are scarcely equal, there is, also, 'a fair field and
no favor,'—a field in which all have the same advantages,
and in which each is sure to find rewards
proportionate to its wisdom and its zeal. This inestimable
benefit of religious peace is clearly due
to the voluntary principle."</span></p>
</div>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Junius</span></span>, since the publication of his Letters,
never figured more conspicuously than during
the last month. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Paris Revue des Deux
Mondes</span></span> has a very long article on the great
secret by M. Charles Remusat, a member of
the Institute, well known in historical criticism.
He arrays skilfully the facts and reasonings
which British inquirers have adduced
in favor of Sir Philip Francis, and the other
most probable author, Lord George Sackville.
He seems to incline to the latter, but does not
decide. He pronounces that, on the whole,
Junius was not "a great publicist." His
powers and influence are investigated and
explained by M. de Remusat with acuteness
and comprehensive survey. Lord Mahon, in
his new volumes, says, "From the proofs adduced
by others, and on a clear conviction of
my own, I affirm that the author of Junius
was no other than Sir Philip Francis." We
think not. The London <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Athenæum</span></span>, last year,
we thought, settled this point. It is understood
that the editor of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Grenville Papers</span></span>,
now on the eve of publication, in London, is
in favor of Lord Temple as a claimant for the
authorship of Junius. The January number of
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Quarterly Review</span></span> contains an article on
the subject.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page276">[pg 276]</span><a name="Pg276" id="Pg276" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Natural History of the Human Species</span></span>,
by Lieutenant-Colonel <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Charles Hamilton
Smith</span></span>, is the title of a duodecimo volume
from the press of Gould &amp; Lincoln of Boston.
An American editor (Dr. Kneeland) has
added an introductory survey of recent literature
on the subject. The whole performance
is feeble. The author and his editor
endeavor to make out something like the infidel
theory of Professor <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Agassiz</span></span>, which, a
year or two ago, attracted sufficient attention
to induce an investigation and an intelligent
judgment, in several quarters, as to the
real claims of that person to the distinctions
in science which his advertising managers
claim for him. We have not space now for
any critical investigation of the work, and
therefore merely warn that portion of our
readers who feel any interest in ethnological
studies, of its utter worthlessness.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">An Englishman, Mr. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Francis Bonynge</span></span>, recently
from the East Indies, has come to this
country at the instance of our minister in
London, for the purpose of bringing before
us the subject of introducing some twenty of
the most valuable agricultural staples of the
East, among which are the tea, coffee, and
indigo plants, into the United States. He
gives his reasons for believing that tea and
indigo would become articles of export from
this country to an amount greater than the
whole of our present exports. He says that
tea, for which we now pay from sixty-five to
one hundred cents per lb. may be produced
for from two to five cents, free from the noxious
adulterations of the tea we import. He
has published a small volume under the title
of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Future Wealth of America</span></span>, in which his
opinions are fully explained and illustrated.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The first volume of a work on <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Christian
Iconography</span></span>, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Didron</span></span>, of Paris, opens
to the curious reader a new source of intellectual
enjoyment, both in the department of
ancient religious art, and in the archæology
of the early paintings of the Catholic Church.
The rich, profuse, and quaint plates of the
original work are used in a translation ably
made by E.J. Millington, published in London
by Bohn, and in New-York by Bangs.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Sir Francis Bond Head</span></span>, so well known
in this country as one of the former governors
of Canada, and as an author of remarkable
versatility and cleverness, has published
an agreeable but superficial book on Paris—the
Paris of January, 1852—under the quaint
title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">A Bundle of French Sticks</span></span>; and Mr.
Putnam has reprinted it in his new library.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A remarkable book published in Louisville,
Kentucky, in 1847, by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. D. Nourse</span></span>,
under the title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Remarks on the Past, and
its Legacies to American Society</span></span>, has just
been reprinted in London, with an introduction
by <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">D. T. Coulton</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The following works, all of which have
promising titles, will soon be published by
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. S. Redfield</span></span>: <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Men of the Times in 1852</span></span>,
comprising biographical sketches of all the
celebrated men of the present day; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Characters
in the Gospels</span></span>, by Rev. E. H. Chapin;
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tales and Traditions of Hungary</span></span>, by Theresa
Pulzky; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Comedy of Love</span></span>, and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Eighteenth Century</span></span>, by Arsene
Houssaye; Aytoun's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lays of the Scottish
Cavaliers</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Cavaliers of England</span></span>, and
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Knights of the Olden Time, or the Chivalry
of England, France and Spain</span></span>, by Henry
W. Herbert; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lectures and Miscellanies</span></span>,
by Henry James; and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Isa: a Pilgrimage</span></span>, by
Caroline Chesebro.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Westminster Review</span></span> says of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Alice
Carey</span></span>, whose <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Clovernook</span></span> we noticed favorably
in the last <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">International</span></span>, that "no American
woman can be compared to her for
genius;" the Paris <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Débats</span></span> refers to her as a
poet of the rank of Mrs. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Elizabeth Barrett
Browning</span></span> in England; the literary critic of
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Tribune</span></span> (the learned and accomplished
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Ripley</span></span> whose judgment in such a matter is
beyond appeal) prefers her <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Clovernook</span></span> to Miss
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mitford's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Our Village</span></span>, or Professor <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Wilson's</span></span>
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Daniel S. Curtiss</span></span> has availed himself
well of large opportunities for personal observation,
in his volume just published under
the title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Western Portraiture, and Emigrant's
Guide</span></span>, a description of Wisconsin, Illinois,
and Iowa, with remarks on Minnesota
and other territories. It is the most judicious
and valuable book of the kind we have seen.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Herr Freund</span></span>, the Philologist, is in London,
engaged in constructing a German-English
and English-German dictionary upon his
new system; and Professor <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Smith</span></span>, the learned
editor of the Dictionary of Greek and Roman
Antiquities, announces a dictionary of
Greek and Roman Geography, the articles to
be written by the principal contributors to
his previous works.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">The Christmas Books</span></span> of the present season
in England have not been very remarkable.
Mr. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dickens</span></span>, in an extra number of his
Household Words, printed <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">What Christmas
is to Everybody</span></span>; and we have from <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Wilkie
Collins</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">A New Christmas Story</span></span>; by the
author of "The Ogilvies," <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Alice Learmont, a
Fairy Tale of Love</span></span>; by the author of "The
Maiden Aunt," a pleasant little book entitled
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Use of Sunshine</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Under the title of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Excerpta de P. Ovidii
Nastonis</span></span>, Blanchard &amp; Lea of Philadelphia
have published a series of selections from a
poet whose works, for obvious reasons, are
not read entire in the schools. The extracts
present some of the most beautiful parts of
this graceful and versatile poet.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page277">[pg 277]</span><a name="Pg277" id="Pg277" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc103" id="toc103"></a>
<a name="pdf104" id="pdf104"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">THE FINE ARTS</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The American Art Unions have not been
successful in the last year, unless an exception
may be made in regard to that of New
England, at Boston. The American, at New-York,
deferred indefinitely its annual distribution
of pictures, on account of the small
number of its subscriptions; and the Pennsylvanian,
at Philadelphia, by a recent fire in
that city has lost its admirably-engraved
plates of Huntington's pictures from the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Pilgrim's
Progress</span></span>, the last of which was just
completed and placed in the hands of the
printer. It will make no distribution.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A Sicilian artist, residing at Naples, has
amused himself, and probably pleased his sovereign,
by composing a life-sized group, representing
Religion supporting King Ferdinand,
and guarded by an angel, who places
his foot on an evil spirit. On the other side
of this group is a child bearing the scales of
justice. "How much," writes a correspondent
of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Athenæum</span></span>, "the artist is to get for
this plaster blasphemy, I know not; but a
more impudent caricature (at the present moment)
it would be difficult to imagine." Another
artist has, however, beaten the Sicilian
sculptor quite out. A small bronze group represents
Religion triumphing over Impiety
and Anarchy. Impiety is represented by a
female figure, under whose arm are two books
inscribed Voltaire and Luther! Anarchy has
taken off her mask, and let fall two scrolls, on
which are written <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Communismo</span></span> and <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Constituto</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Professor Zahn</span></span>, who has been engaged
during a period of more than twenty years in
examining the ruins of Pompeii and Herculaneum,
has exhibited at Berlin a collection of
casts unique in their kind. These are 8,000
in number; and comprise all the remarkable
sculptures of the above places, besides those
found at Stabiæ, and those of the vast collection
of the Museo Borbonico and other museums
of the Two Sicilies. The casts from
the Museo Borbonico are the first ever made,—the
King of Naples having accorded the
privilege of taking these copies to M. Zahn
alone, in royal recompense for the Professor's
great work on Pompeii and Herculaneum.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A book which all students of art should
possess, is <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Kugler's</span></span> <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Geschichte der Kunst</span></span>
(History of Art), with the Illustrations (<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Bilderatlos</span></span>)
which accompany it, and which are
now being published at Stuttgart. The ancient
and modern schools of Art—Painting,
Sculpture, and Architecture—are here represented
in outlines of their most celebrated
and characteristic works. Eleven numbers
of these Illustrations have appeared, and the
whole work will be completed in the course
of the coming year.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In our musical world there have been several
noticable facts in the last month. The
opera company, perhaps from the utter incapacity
of its director, has been divided, and
the best portion of it has been singing at Niblo's
Theatre. Jenny Lind's farewell series
of concerts was prevented by intelligence of
the death of the great singer's mother, in
Sweden. Catherine Hayes has been successful
in several concerts at Tripler Hall, and
Mrs. Bostwick, whom the best critics of the
city regard as superior to any singer who has
appeared among us, except Jenny Lind, has
given a second series of her subscription concerts,
which were extremely well attended.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A correspondent of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Athenæum</span></span>, writing
from Egypt, urges that a few young artists
should be sent out with orders to copy
all the hieroglyphics on the most important
temples, as well as the numerous tablets and
fragments which are daily brought to light.
"A work pursued with such materials—all
theories and arbitrary classification being excluded—would
ever remain as a lasting monument,
and would reflect great credit on the
Government which should order its execution."
Less than one-half of the money required
for the removal of the Obelisk would
amply cover all expenses.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A correspondent of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Kuhne's Europa</span></span> writes
from Dresden that a number of humorous
drawings, sketched by the pencil of Schiller,
and accompanied by descriptions in his own
hand, have been found in the possession of
a Swabian family, with whom the great poet
became acquainted during his residence at
Loschwitz.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In Berlin, M. von Prinz, a pupil of Kiss,
the sculptor, is erecting a group which he
calls <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Lion-killer</span></span> in imitation of the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Amazon</span></span>. Kiss himself is engaged on a set of
groups from a fox-hunt, Rauch has almost
completed a bust of Humboldt, and statues of
General Gneisenau and of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hope</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">A colossal statue of the Emperor Napoleon,
thirty feet high, is to be placed on the
top of the Triumphal Arch, at the end of the
Champs Elysées, in Paris.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Kaulbach</span></span> has undertaken to draw a set
of sketches for an illustrated edition of Shakspeare,
which will shortly be published by
Nicolai, At Berlin.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Greenough</span></span>, is now in New-York,
awaiting the arrival of his splendid group for
the Capitol, from Italy. He will soon be engaged
on his statue of his friend the late Mr.
Cooper, to be erected in this city.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page278">[pg 278]</span><a name="Pg278" id="Pg278" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc105" id="toc105"></a>
<a name="pdf106" id="pdf106"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Historical Review of the Month</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The extraordinary abilities of Kossuth as
orator, hid attractive personal qualities, and
grandeur of his propositions, continue to occupy
the generous regard of the people of the United
States, but the impression which obtained at
one time that the national government would in
any manner or degree enter into his plans for
confining a future contest for the liberty of Hungary
exclusively to the two parties most immediately
interested, appears to have been very generally
given up. This country will continue to encourage
and aid oppressed peoples by showing how
wisely and efficiently its servants can attend to
her own affairs. At the same time it is not to be
doubted that citizens in their private capacity may
and will do much for the illustrious exile who pleads
among us for the means of opposing the oppressors
of his nation. Kossuth has been entertained
at public banquets since he left New-York by the
authorities of Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington,
Annapolis, and Harrisburg; he has been received
by the President of the United States, the
two houses of Congress, and the legislatures of
Maryland and Pennsylvania; and on the 7th of
January he dined with the representatives, senators,
and other persons connected with the government,
at Washington, and Daniel Webster,
Lewis Cass, William H. Seward, and Stephen A.
Douglass, made speeches on the occasion expressive
of their personal respect and sympathy, and
their anxiety as individuals to see Hungary independent.
Mr. Cass indeed went so far as entirely
to endorse the doctrine of Kossuth respecting intervention
to insure non-intervention. Kossuth is
now in the state of Ohio, and he probably will remain
in this country long enough—since the French
revolution has at least deferred any great and united
movement of the European democracy—to visit
all the principal cities of the valley of the Mississippi.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">But little important business has yet been accomplished
in Congress, though numerous bills
have been introduced, as is usual in the early
weeks of the session. On the morning of the 24th
of December, a portion of the capitol, occupied
by the national library, was destroyed by fire, with
nearly sixty thousand printed volumes, and many
MSS., maps, medals, portraits, sculptures, and
other works of art.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The legislature of several of the states are
now in session. Those of Ohio, Michigan, Mississippi,
Wisconsin and California, met on the 5th of
January; those of New-York, Pennsylvania and
Delaware, on the 7th; those of Maryland and
Massachusetts, on the 7th; that of Indiana, on the
8th; those of Virginia and Illinois, on the 12th;
that of New Jersey, on the 13th; that of Maine,
on the 14th, and that of Louisiana, on the 19th.
No great national questions have been prominently
before the state legislatures, except that
of our foreign relations, with special reference to
Hungary, upon which the assemblies in the several
states appear to be less conservative than
Congress. The most important subject of local
administration, is that of the suppression of the
sales of intoxicating liquors. The law of Maine,
enacted last year, will probably be sustained in
that state; in Massachusetts a petition with more
than one hundred thousand signatures, has been
offered in the legislature for such a law, and similar
efforts are being made in New-York and other
States.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In Mexico there is a continuance of the imbecility
of the government and the agitations of factions.
Rumors, constantly varying, in regard to
the conduct and prospects of Caravajal, leave us
in doubt whether any thing of real importance
will grow out of his attempts at revolution in the
northern provinces. The administration appears
to have acted with decision, but probably with
impotence so far as the final result is concerned, in
regard to the Tehuantepee railroad contract.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">South America presents the usual series of disturbances,
with some facts which indicate a prospect
of repose; but all such prospects in the
Spanish states of this continent are apt to be deceptive.
The birthday of Bolivar was celebrated
at Caracas on the 28th of October with great public
festivities. Treaties between Brazil and Uruguay
were formed for alliance, military aid, commerce
and navigation, and the mutual surrender of criminals,
on the 12th of October. We learn from
Buenos Ayres that, through November, Rosas was
making great preparations to meet Urquiza. He
had established a corps of observation in the direction
of Entre Rios to look out for an invasion.
A considerable emigration was taking place from
Buenos Ayres to Montevideo, mostly of previous
residents of the latter city.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In Great Britain the most important recent
event is the retirement of Lord Palmerston from
the cabinet, in which he held the place of Secretary
of State for Foreign Affairs. This occurred
on the 22d of December. The causes of Lord
Palmerston's retirement are a subject of much
unsatisfactory speculation, and the fact is generally
regretted by the friends of political liberty in
Europe. His successor is Lord Granville, a nobleman
of manly and liberal character, heretofore
connected with the government. It is apprehended
that the popular feeling may induce the
recall of Lord Palmerston to be the head of a new
Ministry. Great Britain has now no envoy resident
in the United States, but it is not improbable
that Sir Henry Bulwer will return to this country
for the final settlement of affairs connected with
Central America. It is understood officially that
the attack of a British man-of-war on the United
States steamer Prometheus, at Greytown, was
entirely unauthorized.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Admiralty have determined not to send
another expedition in search of Sir John Franklin,
by way of Behring's Straits. The Plover is to be
communicated with each year by a man-of-war—the
Amphitrite is the next. The proposed overland
expedition of Lieut. Pym has been abandoned.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The English war at the Cape of Good Hope
continues with little change, though a few important
successes by the English are reported.
The war appears to be condemned by a large
and respectable portion of the journals and the
people at home. In its character and details it
continues to resemble our own contest with the
Indians in Florida.</p>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page279">[pg 279]</span><a name="Pg279" id="Pg279" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The month of December, 1851, witnessed, in
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">France</span></span>, the successful accomplishment of a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">coup
d'état</span></span> not less daring than any that marked the
earlier annals of that country. It is asserted that
the personal security of the President was menaced
with imminent danger, when, on the evening
of the 1st of December, he came to the resolution
to strike the first blow. The measures he immediately
took were, to issue an appeal to the people
denouncing the conduct of the Assembly,
and declaring it dissolved; a proclamation to
the army, telling them that "to-day, at this solemn
moment, I wish the voice of the army to be heard;"
and a decree "in the name of the French people,"
of which the articles were—"1. The National Assembly
is dissolved; 2. Universal Suffrage is re-established—the
law of the 31st May is abrogated;
3. The French people is convoked in its elective
colleges from the 14th of December to the 21st of
December following; 4. The state of siege is decreed
through the first military division; 5. The
Council of State is dissolved; 6. The Minister of
the Interior is charged with the execution of the
present decree." The appeal to the people contained
these further propositions; "Persuaded
that the instability of power, that the preponderance
of a single Assembly, are the permanent
causes of trouble and discord. I submit to your
suffrages the fundamental basis of a constitution
which the Assemblies will develop hereafter—1.
A responsible chief named for ten years; 2. The
Ministers dependent on the executive alone; 3. A
Council of State formed of the most distinguished
men, preparing the law, and maintaining the discussion
before the legislative corps; 4. A legislative
corps, discussing and voting the laws, named
by universal suffrage, without the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">scrutin de liste</span></span>
which falsifies the election; 6. A second Assembly
formed of all the illustrious persons of the nation—a
preponderating power, guardian of the
fundamental pact and of public liberty." At an
early hour, on the 2d, these manifestoes were
found covering the walls of Paris, and at the same
time the principal thoroughfares were filled with
troops of the line.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The President had taken precautions that the
National Guard should not be called out. The
Generals Changarnier, Cavaignac, Bedeau, Lamoricière,
Leflo, Colonel Charras, MM. Bazé, Thiers.
Brun, the Commissary of Police of the Assembly,
and others of the leading heads of parties, were
arrested before they had risen for the day. Many
members of the Assembly gathered at the house
of M. Daru, one of their Vice-Presidents and, having
him at their head, proceeded to their ordinary
place of meeting, but found access effectually barred
by the Chasseurs de Vincennes, a corpse recently
returned from Algeria. These men forcibly
withstood the entrance of the members, some of
whom were slightly wounded. Returning with M.
Daru, they were invited by General Lauriston to
the Marie of the 10th arrondissement, where they
formed a sitting, presided over by two of their
Vice-Presidents, M. Vitel and M. Benuist d'Azy
(M. Daru having meanwhile been arrested), and
proceeded to frame a decree to the following effect:
"Louis Napoleon Bonaparte is deprived of
his functions as President of the Republic, and the
citizens are commanded to refuse him obedience;
the executive power passes in full right to the National
Assembly; the judges of the High Court
of Justice are required to meet immediately, on
pain of dismissal, to proceed to judgment against
the President and his accomplices. It is enjoined
on all functionaries and depositaries of authority
that they obey the requisition made in the name of
the Assembly, under penalty of forfeiture and the
punishment prescribed for high treason." While
this decree was being signed, another was unanimously
passed, naming General Oudinot commander
of the forces, and M. Tamisier chief of the staff.
These decrees had scarcely been signed by all
present, when a company of soldiers entered, and
required them to disperse. The Assembly refused
to do so, when, after some parley, two commissaries
de police were brought, the presidents were
arrested, and the whole body of members present,
230 in number, were marched across the city to
the barracks of the Quai d'Orsay. The next day
they were distributed to the prisons of Mount Valerien,
Mazas, and Vincennes; and the generals
Cavaignac, Lamoricière, Bedeau, and Changarnier,
were sent to Ham. During the day the population
viewed the soldiers in the streets merely as a
spectacle, and no violent excitement occurred. At
ten o'clock on Wednesday morning some members
of the Mountain appeared in the Rue d'Antoine,
and raised the cry <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Aux armes!</span></span> The party they
collected immediately began to erect a barricade
at the corner of the Rue St. Marguerite. Troops
were quickly at the spot, when the barricade was
carried, and the representative Baudin was killed.
Some other barricades were raised in the afternoon,
but as quickly destroyed. General Magnan,
the Commander-in-chief of the army of Paris, seeing
the day was passed in insignificant skirmishes,
now determined to withdraw his small posts, to
allow the discontented to gather to a head. On the
morning of the 4th it was reported that the insurrection
had its focus in the Quartiers St. Antoine,
St. Denis, and St. Martin, and that several
barricades were in progress. The General deferred
his attack until two o'clock, when the various
brigades of troops acted in concert. The barricades
were attacked in the first instance by
artillery, and then carried at the point of the
bayonet. There were none which offered very
serious resistance, and the whole contest was over
about five o'clock. In the evening, however, fresh
barricades were raised in the Rues Montmartre and
Montorgueil, and others in the Rues Pagevin and
des Fosses Montmartre, which were successfully
attacked in the night by the officers in command
of those quarters. On the 5th the last remains
of street-fighting were effectually quelled. The
loss to the military in these operations was twenty-five
men killed, of whom one was Lieut-Col.
Loubeau, of the line, and 184 wounded, of whom
seventeen were officers. The number of insurgents
killed is unknown, but they are estimated
it from two to three thousand, including, unfortunately,
many indifferent persons, who were accidentally
passing along the boulevards when the
soldiery suddenly opened their sweeping fire.
The insurgents taken with arms in their hands
were carried to the Champ de Mars, and there
shot by judgment of court martial. Most of the
political prisoners arrested were discharged after
a few days, some of the more formidable only being
longer detained.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">By a decree of the President dated the 2d December,
the French people were convoked in their<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page280">[pg 280]</span><a name="Pg280" id="Pg280" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
respective districts for the 14th of the month to
accept or reject the following <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">plébiscite</span></span>: "The
French people wills the maintenance of the authority
of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, and delegates
to him the powers necessary to frame a Constitution
on the bases proposed in his proclamation of
the 2d December." On that day the voting consequently
commenced by universal suffrage; and
the President has been re-elected for ten years by
a majority greatly exceeding that of his contest
with Cavaignac. In Paris, of 394,049 registered
voters 197,091 have voted in the affirmative;
95,511, in the negative; and 96,819 abstained
from voting. The majority for Louis Napoleon
being 191,500. In the provinces he has had a
majority of eight to one. The inauguration of the
usurper took place in the church of Notre Dame
on the 3d of January, and the new order of things
has been recognized by all the courts of Europe.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">On the 25th of November a French squadron
appeared before Salee, to claim satisfaction for an
act of piracy committed by the inhabitants of that
town. The Caid asked for six days to take the
orders of the Emperor of Morocco; and the Caid
of Rabat sent a similar evasive reply. The next
day the French bombarded the place for seven
hours, the fire being returned by both forts of
Rabat and Salee. The Admiral, however, confined
his chastisement to the latter, which he thoroughly
performed, and fired the town in several
places. The French fleet arrived at Tangier on
the morning of the 29th, when the Consul-General
for Morocco and several officers of the squadron
landed, and had an interview with the Bashaw of
the province, which ended in a satisfactory arrangement,
to the great relief of the people of
Tangier, who were in consternation at the prospect
of sharing the fate of their neighbors.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From Austria we learn the partial amelioration
in private business of the financial difficulties.
The Emperor published, on the 1st of January,
decrees, that whereas the provisions of the constitution
were cancelled by the imperial edict of
August 20, 1851, the last principles of political
right conceded by the constitution are now disavowed.
There now exists no political right in the
empire. The Austrian government continues to
watch with the keenest anxiety the proceedings
of the exiled Italians and Hungarians, and by very
stringent arrangements in regard to the press,
and the interdiction of most foreign journals, keeps
the "dangerous classes" in ignorance of the sympathy
with which they are regarded from abroad.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Queen of Spain, by a spontaneous act of
her royal clemency, granted a pardon to all such
prisoners, made in the last expedition against the
Isle of Cuba, as are citizens of the United States,
whether they be already in Spain, undergoing the
punishments they have incurred, or whether they be
still in Cuba. The queen on the 20th of December
gave birth to a princess, who is heir to the throne.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">From China there are reports that the Emperor
has been compelled to resign in favor of the revolutionary
general, whose triumphant march through
many revolted provinces has, from time to time,
been noticed in the last half year. The statement,
however, does not appear to be credited by
some of the best informed London journals.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Queen of Madagascar is bent on exterminating
Christianity in her dominions, and has long
mercilessly persecuted those who prefer the "new
religion." In the last outburst of this protracted
persecution, four persons were burnt alive; fourteen
precipitated from a high rock and crushed to
death; a hundred and seventeen persons condemned
to work in chains as long as they live;
twenty persons cruelly flogged with rods, besides
1,748 other persons mulcted in heavy penalties,
reduced into slavery, and compelled to buy themselves
back, or deprived of their wives and families.
Persons of rank have been degraded, and
sent as forced laborers to carry stone for twelve
months together to build houses; and, in an endless
variety of other ways have the maddened passions
of one wicked woman been permitted now
for years past to plunge a great country in ruin.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">There has been a serious Mussulman riot at
Bombay, occasioned by the Parsee editor of an
illustrated newspaper, in each number of which is
given a life and portrait of some remarkable historical
character, having published—in the series
(next to one of Benjamin Franklin)—a life and portrait
of Mahomet. Both are said to have been
unexceptionable according to European ideas, but
the whole Mussulman population (145,000 in number)
considered their faith insulted and outraged
by the publication, holding it sacrilege and idolatry
to imagine and print any likeness whatever of
so sacred a personage.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Wahabees, who inhabit the interior and
highland portion of Arabia, have pillaged the holy
cities of Mecca and Medina, destroying the
mosques, sacking the cities, and carrying off numbers
of women and children into the desert. It
is supposed to be in revenge for the punishment
inflicted on them thirty years ago, when they had
conquered the same cities.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Turkish government has introduced the culture
of cotton in the vicinity of Damascus, with seed
procured from the United States. It is successful.</p>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc107" id="toc107"></a>
<a name="pdf108" id="pdf108"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Scientific Discoveries and Proceedings of Learned Societies.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In London, among the scientific questions of a
practical kind much discussed, is that of a patent
process for contracting the fibres of calico, and
of obtaining on calico thus prepared colors of much
brilliancy. It is regarded by chemists as likely to
lead to valuable results. In the British Association,
it was described as the discovery that a solution
of cold but caustic soda acts peculiarly on
cotton fibre, immediately causing it to contract;
and although the soda can be readily washed out,
yet the fibre has undergone a change. Thus, taking
a coarse cotton fabric, and acting upon it by
the proper solution of caustic soda, this could be
made much finer in appearance; and if the finest
calico made in England—known as one hundred
and eighty picks to the web—be thus acted on, it
immediately appears as fine as two hundred and
sixty picks. Stockings of open weaving assume a
much finer texture by the condensation process;
but the effect of the alteration is most strikingly<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page281">[pg 281]</span><a name="Pg281" id="Pg281" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
shown by colors: the tint of pink cotton velvet
becomes deepened to an intense degree; and printed
calicoes, especially with colors hitherto applied
with little satisfaction—such as lilac—come out
with strength and brilliancy, besides producing
fabrics finer than could be possibly woven by hand.
The strength, too, is increased by this process; for
a string of calico which breaks with a weight of
thirteen ounces when not soaked, will bear twenty
ounces when half condensed by the caustic soda.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">At a recent meeting of the Paris <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Academy of
Sciences</span></span>, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">M. Yvart</span></span> read an important practical
Memoir on the production of Wool, in the Merino
race. He teaches that the only means of obtaining
fine wool—taking into account the weight of
the sheep's body,—is the employment of races
of small size. When the skin is very delicate, it
secretes less of wool than when it is otherwise;—the
fineness of the wool is proportioned to that of
the skin. Those countries in which the winter is
long or cold, or where the sheep remains in the
fold the greater part of the year, and does not lie
on ploughed lands, are especially suited to the production
of the finest and most elastic wools, those
chiefly sought after for manufacture of cloth.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Experiments on the application of electro-magnetism
as a motive power, have been made with
some striking results in Paris, as well as in this
country. M. Dumont, in a paper on the subject
submitted to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Female Academy</span></span>, states, "that if
in the production of great power the electro-magnetic
force is inferior to that of steam, it becomes
equal to it, and perhaps superior in the production
of small power, which may be subdivided, varied,
and introduced into employments or trades requiring
but little capital, and where the absolute
value of the mechanical power is less essential
than the facility of producing instantaneously and
at pleasure the power itself. In this point of view
electro-magnetic power comes to complete, not to
supersede, that of steam."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the papers of the celebrated Lalande, recently
presented to the Paris <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Academy of Sciences</span></span>,
by M. Arago, there is a note to the effect that so
far back as the 25th of October, 1800, he and
Burckhardt were of opinion, from calculations,
that there must be a planet beyond Uranus, and
they occupied themselves for some time in trying
to discover its precise position. This is a very curious
fact for astronomers.</p>
</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc109" id="toc109"></a>
<a name="pdf110" id="pdf110"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Recent Deaths.</span></h1>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Joel R. Poinsett</span></span>, LL.D., long distinguished in
society and in affairs, died at his residence in
Statesburg, South Carolina, on the 12th of December.
The first American ancestor of Mr.
Poinsett came to this country from Soubisi, near
Rochelle, in France, soon after the revocation of
the edict of Nantz. His father was a physician,
and served in the Revolution under Count Pulaski.
He himself was born at Charleston on the second
of March, 1779, and, after having passed some
time at the school of the Rev. Timothy Dwight
(afterward President of Yale College), at Greenfield,
Connecticut, he was sent, at the close of the
Revolution, to England, to complete his studies,
and for the advantages of foreign travel. Returning
in 1800, when he was twenty-one years of age,
he commenced the study of law in the office of
Mr. Desaussure, afterwards Chancellor of South
Carolina, Before his admission to the bar, he
again embarked for Europe, extending his travels
to Switzerland, Bavaria, Austria, and the northern
countries of the continent. At St. Petersburg he
became acquainted with the Emperor Alexander,
soon after his accession, and was received by him
with marked partiality, and often questioned respecting
the peculiar institutions of this country. On
one occasion, after he had been expatiating at large
on the advantages of America, the Czar exclaimed,
"Were I not an emperor, I would be a republican."
Declining the offer of a place in the service
of the Emperor, he commenced a tour into
the East, travelling through Persia and Armenia,
and, returning to Europe, resided for some time in
its principal capitals. On the breaking out of difficulties
between the United States and Great
Britain, in 1808, he returned to his own country,
and applied to Mr. Madison for a commission in
the army. Owing to some objections by the
Secretary of War, he did not obtain the commission,
but was sent by the President to South
America, to ascertain the result of the revolutions
which had recently occurred in that quarter.
While in Chili, he heard of the declaration of war
between England and America. Embarking in
the frigate Essex, to return to this country, with a
view to enter the army, he was made a prisoner
on the surrender of that vessel to the British by
Commodore Porter. The British Commander refused
to allow his return home with the rest of the
prisoners, regarding him as a dangerous enemy of
England, and he therefore determined to cross the
continent to the Atlantic. He passed the Andes
in the month of April, when they were covered
with snow, and, after great difficulties, reached
Buenos Ayres. He succeeded, in a Portuguese
vessel, in reaching Madeira, where, on his arrival,
he learned that a treaty of peace had been concluded.
Soon after he reached South Carolina, he
was elected to the Legislature of that State, in which
he devoted himself chiefly to the establishment of
a system of internal improvements. In 1821 he
was elected to Congress, from the Charleston District,
and was twice re-elected to that body. In
1822, he was sent to Mexico, by President Monroe,
to obtain information with regard to the government
under Iturbide. He performed this mission
with signal success. Foreseeing the speedy downfall
of the imperial administration, he gave his
advice against all connection with it, on the part
of this country. He had scarcely returned home,
when Iturbide abdicated the throne. Soon after
the election of Mr. Adams, which he had strongly
opposed, Mr. Poinsett was again appointed Minister
to Mexico, whore he remained until the summer
of 1829. His important services in this period are
amply detailed in a memoir of his political life,
in the first volume of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Democratic Review</span></span>, and
were warmly approved in the first annual message
of President Jackson. On returning to the United
States, he devoted himself to the pursuits of private<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page282">[pg 282]</span><a name="Pg282" id="Pg282" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
life, in South Carolina. When the States
Rights controversy broke out, he again engaged in
political affairs, and became a prominent advocate
of the principles of the Union party, as opposed to
Nullification. In 1836, he was nominated by his
friends as a candidate for the State Senate, and
was elected with but little opposition. On the
formation of Mr. Van Buren's cabinet, Mr. Poinsett
accepted the office of Secretary of War. On the
election of Gen. Harrison he retired to his home
in South Carolina, where he devoted himself to
those literary pursuits which formed the pleasure
of his life; and thence he issued, only two years
ago, those stirring appeals against secession, which
were among the most powerful influences for the
preservation of the endangered peace of the Union
at that period. Mr. Poinsett received the degree
of Doctor of Laws from Columbia College in this
city, and he was a member of many learned societies
in this country, and in Europe. Besides his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Notes
on Mexico</span></span>, written soon after his last return from
that country, he published several addresses, was
a large contributor to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Southern Quarterly
Review</span></span> and other periodicals, and furnished some
important papers to the Paris Geographical Society,
and other learned associations abroad and at home.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Moses Stuart</span></span>, D.D., of the Theological Seminary
at Andover, died at his residence in that
town on the 4th of January, in the seventy-second
year of his age. He was born in Wilton, Conn.,
March 16, 1780; was graduated at Yale College in
1799; and was a tutor in that institution from 1802
to 1804. After having studied the profession of
the law, he turned his attention to theology, and
in 1806 was ordained pastor of the Central Congregational
church in New Haven. He was
called to the Professorship of Sacred Literature in
Andover Theological Seminary in 1810, and continued
for nearly forty years to discharge its important
duties. Professor Stuart was a man of
great natural abilities, honorable principles, and
a strong will; for a long period he occupied the
first place among cultivators of sacred learning in
this country; and though younger men, with
larger opportunities, have recently attained to
greater eminence, no one in the same field has
ever exercised a more important and advantageous
influence. His first considerable work was
a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hebrew Grammar</span></span>, published in 1823. It
scarcely deserves comparison with the more celebrated
performance of Gesenius, of which Professor
Stuart himself gave to the public a translation,
more than twenty years after the publication of
his own work; but for some time after its original
appearance it was the best Hebrew Grammar in
the English language. In 1825 he was associated
with Professor Robinson in the production of a
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Greek Grammar of the New Testament</span></span>; in 1827
he published his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Commentary on the Epistle to the
Hebrews</span></span>; in 1829 his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hebrew Chrestomathy</span></span>, and in
1830 his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Course of Hebrew Study</span></span>. His Commentary
on the Hebrews, was received as an accession
to the body of permanent theological literature.
It was spoken of in England as "the most
valuable philological aid" that had been published
"for the critical study of that important, and in
many respects difficult book;" and the late Dr.
Pye Smith, one of the first biblical, theological,
and classical scholars in Great Britain, stated, that
he felt it to be his duty to describe it as "the most
important present to the cause of sound biblical
interpretation that had ever been made in the
English language." In Germany also it secured
for Professor Stuart the highest consideration; and
it continues in all countries to be regarded as one
of the noblest examples of philological theology
and exegetical criticism. In 1832 Professor Stuart
published another great work of a similar character:
his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Commentary on the Epistle to the Romans</span></span>.
It was distinguished for a profoundness
of research, for an intensity and minuteness of
philological labor, and a singleness of purpose to
arrive at the meaning of the apostle, without regard
to any preconceived or partisan opinions,
which obtained for it a regard as an authority
equal to that awarded to its predecessor. In
1845 he published a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Commentary on the Apocalypse</span></span>;
a profoundly learned and critical work, in
which the interpretation of this difficult book varies
much from that which has been most generally
received. In the same year he also gave to the
church a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Critical History and Defence of the Old
Testament Canon</span></span>. His devotion to biblical criticism
continued to the close of his life, and we believe,
his last use of the pen was in the correction of
the concluding sheets of a volume of Commentaries.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In his later years Professor Stuart entered into
political controversies, and was particularly distinguished
for his defence of the policy of Mr.
Webster, in a pamphlet entitled <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Conscience and
the Constitution</span></span>. He also ventured very injudiciously
into the field of classical criticism, in an
edition of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Cicero</span></span>, which was sharply reviewed by
Professor Kingsley of Yale College; and he lost
reputation in his more legitimate sphere by a controversy
with Professor Conant, of Madison University,
growing out of his translation of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hebrew
Grammar of Gesenius</span></span>. It is not to be denied
that in measuring his strength against that of these
accomplished scholars, he was signally unfortunate.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In his personal character he was simple, sincere,
enthusiastic, brave, and religious. He was well
entitled to the great respect in which he was held
by the church. He had been ordained for high
services, and he had accomplished them. Every
duty of which he was capable was finished, and
he could have added nothing to his good reputation
if his years had been prolonged.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">William Grimshaw</span></span>, born in Ireland in 1781,
but nearly all his life a resident of this country,
where he was for many years well known as a
writer, died near Philadelphia on the 8th of January.
Besides editing and rewriting a considerable
portion of Baine's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">History of the Wars growing
out of the French Revolution</span></span>, he was the author
of Histories of Great Britain, France, and
several other countries, which for a long time
were very generally used as text-books in schools,
and he also wrote <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The American Chesterfield</span></span>,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Ladies' Lexicon</span></span>, and numerous smaller volumes,
which were creditable to his abilities. His
reading was extensive, and his knowledge of
events during his lifetime, particularly in British
affairs, was minute and accurate. His mind lost
none of its vigor with the approach of age, and in
his fine countenance, and imposing figure, there
were no appearances of decay. His love of reading
continued to the last, and within a year he
frequently employed his pen on such subjects as
he took an especial interest in.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page283">[pg 283]</span><a name="Pg283" id="Pg283" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Nicholas Gran de Dieu Soult</span></span>, Marshal General
of France, Duke of Dalmatia, &amp;c., died on the
26th of December, at his chateau of Soult Berg,
near the place where he was born. We have
given in another part of this magazine an estimate
of his character. The Paris <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Pays</span></span> furnishes us a
brief abstract of his history. He was born at St.
Amand (Tarn), March 29, 1769. His father, who
was a notary, seeing that he had no taste for his
own profession, allowed him to enter the army.
The future Marshal of France entered the Royal
Regiment of Infantry in 1785, where he was soon
remarked by his aptitude for the functions of instructor.
He was made non-commissioned officer
in 1790, and then passed rapidly through the intermediate
grades, until he reached that of Adjutant-General
of the Staff, when General Lefebvre
attached him to his own service with the grade of
Chief of Brigade. In that quality he went through
the campaigns of 1794 and 1795 with the army
of the Moselle, and owed to his talents, as well as
to his republican principles, a rapid promotion.
Successively raised to the rank of General of
Brigade, and then to that of General of Division,
he took part in all the campaigns of Germany
until 1799, when he followed Massena into Switzerland,
and thence to Genoa, where he was
wounded and taken prisoner. Set at liberty after
the battle of Marengo, and raised to the command
of Piedmont, he returned to France at the peace
of Amiens, and was named one of the four Colonels
of the Guard of the Consuls. When the
Empire was proclaimed, in 1804, he was nominated
Marshal of France, and during the campaign
which terminated in Austerlitz, held the command
of the fourth corps of the grand army. After the
conquest of Prussia and the battle of Eylau, Marshal
Soult solicited and obtained the command of
the second corps of the army of Spain, with
which he overran Galicia and the Austrians, and
passed into Portugal, where he fought the memorable
battle of Oporto. Forced to abandon that
city, when delivered up by treason to the English,
he effected into Galicia a bold and perilous retreat,
which did the greatest honor to his energy
and presence of mind. Being named Commander-in-Chief
of the army of Spain, he marched to the
succor of Madrid, menaced by the Anglo-Spanish
army, and his movement was crowned with full
success. He continued in this command until
March, 1813, when he was appointed in Saxony
to the command-in-chief of the Imperial Guard.
The disasters of Vittoria decided Napoleon to
again confer on Marshal Soult the command of the
French troops in Spain. The point then was to
defend the menaced frontier of France. Forced
to fall back on Toulouse, he there terminated by
a brilliant engagement, due to most able strategic
arrangements, the fatal campaign of 1814. On
the announcement of the event at Paris he signed
a suspension of arms, and adhered to the reëstablishment
of Louis XVIII., who presented him
with the Cross of St. Louis, and called him to the
command of the 13th military division, and then
to the Ministry of War (Dec. 3, 1814). On March
8th, learning the landing from Elba, he published
the order of the day which is so well known, and
in which Napoleon is treated more than severely.
On March 11th he resigned his portfolio as Minister
of War, and declared for the Emperor, who,
passing over the famous proclamation, raised him
to the dignity of Peer of France and Major General
of the Army. After Waterloo, where he
fought most energetically, the Marshal took refuge
at Malzieu (Lozere) with General Brun de Villeret,
his former aid-de-camp. Being set down on
the list of the proscribed, he withdrew to Dusseldorf
on the banks of the Rhine, until 1819, when
a Royal ordinance allowed him to return to
France. He then went to live with his family at
St. Amand, his native place, and on his reiterated
representations his marshal's baton, which had
been withdrawn from him, was restored. Charles
X. treated Marshal Soult with favor, creating him
knight of his orders, and afterward making him
Peer of France. After the revolution of July,
1830, the declaration of the Chamber of Deputies
of August 9th excluded him from that rank, but
he was restored to it four days later by a special
nomination of Louis Philippe, who soon after appointed
him Minister of War. We shall not follow
Marshal Soult through the acts of his administrative
career. He always showed himself devoted
to the constitutive principles of the Government
of July. He was twice named President of the
Council of King Louis Philippe, who elevated him
to the dignity of Marshal General, of which Turenne
had been the last possessor. Since the revolution
of February, Marshal Soult has lived on his estate,
in the midst of his family, and almost forgotten in
our present political agitations.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Karl Friederich Rungenhagen</span></span>, late Royal Director
of Music at Berlin, was born in that city on
September 27, 1778. His father was a merchant.
In 1801 he became member of the Singing Academy,
and studied under Zetter. In 1814 he wrote
the songs for a melo-drama, which was not successful.
In 1815 he became director of the Singing
Academy, with Zetter; most of his religious
music was composed after this time. In 1825 he
was appointed to the post of Royal Music Director,
and in 1833, after Zetter's death, he became
sole conductor of the Singing Academy. His influence
has been considerable upon the culture of
music in Germany. Carl Maria Von Weber was
his friend, and Lortzing was one of his pupils.
He died at Berlin on the 22d of last December.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The journals of Moscow announce the death of
the Armenian Archbishop, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Michael Sallantian</span></span>,
the most distinguished writer of Armenia at the
present day. He was born at Constantinople in
1782, and educated at the Armenian monastery
at Venice. He died at the age of sixty-nine at
Moscow, where he had been professor of theology
and literature for sixteen years before his elevation
to the Archbishopric.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Dr. Graefe</span></span>, one of the most eminent veterans
of European philology, died suddenly at St Petersburg
on November 30th. He was born at
Chemnitz, in Saxony, in July, 1780, but went to
Russia in 1810, to assume the professorship of
Greek at the Academy of St. Petersburg.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Russian General, Kiel, has died in Paris.
He was employed by the Emperor Nicholas in directing
works of art in the Russian empire.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Herr Meinhold</span></span>, author of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Amber Witch</span></span>,
died in Germany in December.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page284">[pg 284]</span><a name="Pg284" id="Pg284" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">J. W. M. Turner</span></span>, the greatest of English artists,
and the hero of Mr. Ruskin's brilliant book
entitled <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Modern Painters</span></span>, died in London on
the 20th of December, at the age of 77. He had
always a reluctance to have his portrait taken,
but the engraving accompanying this article—from
a sketch made without his knowledge—is
said, by the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Illustrated London News</span></span> to be remarkably
like him. It is understood that by his
will he has left a million dollars (£200,000) for the
purpose of founding an institution for the relief of
of decayed artists, and has given it also the chief
part of his pictures, to adorn the building which is
to be occupied by it. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Times</span></span> says, "although
it would be out of place to revive the discussions
occasioned by the peculiarities of Mr. Turner's
style in his later years, he has left behind him sufficient
proofs of the variety and fertility of his
genius to establish an undoubted claim to a prominent
rank among the painters of England. His
life had been extended to the verge of human existence;
for although he was fond of throwing a
mystery over his precise age, we believe that he
was born in Maiden-lane, Covent-garden, in the
year 1775, and was, consequently, in his 76th or
77th year. Of humble origin (he was the son of
a barber), he enjoyed the advantages of an accurate
rather than a liberal education. His first studies,
some of which are still in existence, were in
architectural design; and few of those who have
been astonished or enchanted by the profusion and
caprice of form and color in his mature pictures,
would have guessed the minute and scientific precision
with which he had cultivated the arts of
linear drawing and perspective. His early manhood
was spent partly on the coast, where he imbibed
his inexhaustible attachment for marine
scenery and his acquaintance with the wild and
varied aspect of the ocean. Somewhat later he
repaired to Oxford, where he contributed for several
years the drawing to the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">University Almanac</span></span>.
But his genius was rapidly breaking
through all obstacles, and even the repugnance of
public opinion; for before he had completed his
30th year he was on the high road to fame. As
early as 1790 he exhibited his first work, a water-colored
drawing of the entrance to Lambeth, at
the exhibition of the Academy, and in 1793 his
first oil painting. In November, 1799, he was
elected an associate, and in February, 1802, he attained
the rank of a Royal Academician. We
shall not here attempt to trace the vast series of
his paintings from his earlier productions, such as
the "Wreck," in Lord Yarborough's collection, the
"Italian Landscape," in the same gallery, the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">pendant</span></span> to Lord Ellesmere's "Vanderwelde," or
Mr. Munro's "Venus and Adonis," in the Titianesque
manner, to the more obscure, original, and,
as some think, unapproachable productions of his
later years, such as the "Rome," the "Venice,"
the "Golden Bough," the "Téméraire," and the
"Tusculum." But while these great works proceeded
rapidly from his palette, his powers
of design were no less actively engaged in the
exquisite water-colored drawings that have
formed the basis of the modern school of "illustration."
The "Liber studiorum" had been commenced
in 1807, in imitation of Claude's "Liber
veritatis," and was etched, if we are not mistaken,
by Turner's own hand. The title-page was engraved
and altered half-a-dozen times, from his
singular and even nervous attention to the most
trifling details. But this volume was only the
precursor of an immense series of drawings and
sketches, embracing the topography of this country
in the "River Scenery" and the "Southern
Coast"—the scenery of the Alps, of Italy, and
great part of Europe—and the ideal creations of
our greatest poets, from Milton to Scott and Rogers,
all imbued with the brilliancy of a genius
which seemed to address itself more peculiarly to
the world at large when it adopted the popular
form of engraving. These drawings are now
widely diffused in England, and form the basis of
several important collections, such as those of Petworth,
of Mr. Windus, Mr. Fawkes, and Mr.
Munro. So great is the value of them that 120
guineas have not unfrequently been paid for a
small sketch in water-colors; and a sketch-book,
containing chalk-drawings of one of Turner's river
tours on the continent, has lately fetched the enormous
sum of 600 guineas. The prices of his
more finished oil paintings have ranged in the last
few years from 700 to 1,200 or 1,400 guineas.
All his works may now be said to have acquired
triple or quadruple the value originally paid for
them. Mr. Turner undoubtedly realized a very
large fortune, and great curiosity will be felt to
ascertain the posthumous use he has made of it.
His personal habits were peculiar, and even penurious,
but in all that related to his art he was generous
to munificence; and we are not without
hope that his last intentions were for the benefit
of the nation, and the preservation of his own
fame. He was never married, he was not known
to have any relations, and his wants were limited
to the strictest simplicity. The only ornaments of
his house in Queen Anne-street were the pictures
by his own hand, which he had constantly refused
to part with at any price, among which the "Rise
and Fall of Carthage" and the "Crossing the
Brook," rank among the choicest specimens of his
finest manner.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Mr. Turner seldom took much part in society,
and only displayed in the closest intimacy the
shrewdness of his observation and the playfulness
of his wit. Every where he kept back much of
what was in him, and while the keenest intelligence,
mingled with a strong tinge of satire, animated
his brisk countenance, it seemed to amuse
him to be but half understood. His nearest social
ties were those formed in the Royal Academy, of
which he was by far the oldest member, and to
whose interests he was most warmly attached.
He filled at one time the chair of Professor of
Perspective, but without conspicuous success, and
that science has since been taught in the Academy
by means better suited to promote it than a course
of lectures. In the composition and execution of
his works, Mr. Turner was jealously sensitive of
all interference or supervision. He loved to deal
in the secrets and mysteries of his art, and many
of his peculiar effects are produced by means
which it would not be easy to discover or to imitate.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"We hope that the Society of Arts or the British
Gallery will take an early opportunity of commemorating
the genius of this great artist, and of
reminding the public of the prodigious range of
his pencil, by forming a general exhibition of his
principal works, if, indeed, they are not permanently
gathered in a nobler repository. Such an<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page285">[pg 285]</span><a name="Pg285" id="Pg285" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>
exhibition will serve far better than any observations
of ours to demonstrate that it is not by those
deviations from established rules which arrest the
most superficial criticism that Mr. Turner's fame
or merit are to be estimated. For nearly sixty
years Mr. Turner contributed largely to the arts
of this country. He lived long enough to see his
greatest productions rise to uncontested supremacy,
however imperfectly they were understood
when they first appeared in the earlier years of
this century; and, though in his later works and
in advanced age, force and precision of execution
have not accompanied his vivacity of conception,
public opinion has gradually and steadily advanced
to a more just appreciation of his power. He
is the Shelley of English painting—the poet and
the painter both alike veiling their own creations
in the dazzling splendor of the imagery with which
they are surrounded, mastering every mode of expression,
combining scientific labor with an air of
negligent profusion, and producing in the end
works in which color and language are but the
vestments of poetry. Of such minds it may be
said in the words of Alastor:</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 4.00em">        "Nature's most secret steps</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">He, like her shadow, has pursued, where'er</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">The red volcano overcanopies</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Its fields of snow and pinnacles of ice</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">With burning smoke; or where the starry domes</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of diamond and of gold expand above</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Numberless and immeasurable halls,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Frequent with crystal column and clear shrines</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Of pearl, and thrones radiant with chrysolite.</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Nor had that scene of ampler majesty</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Than gems or gold—the varying roof of heaven</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">And the green earth—lost in his heart its claims</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">To love and wonder...."</div>
</div>

<a name="fig111" id="fig111"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image15.png" width="590" height="1137" alt="Illustration: THE LATE J. W. M. TURNER" title="THE LATE J. W. M. TURNER" /><div class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">THE LATE J. W. M. TURNER</div></div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page286">[pg 286]</span><a name="Pg286" id="Pg286" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Basil Montagu</span></span>, an eminent philosophical and
legal writer, was the illegitimate son of the well-known
statesman, John fourth Earl of Sandwich,
many years First Lord of the Admiralty, by the
unfortunate Miss Margaret Reay, who was assassinated,
in 1779, by her affianced lover, the Rev.
Mr. Hackman. The tragic affair, which excited
immense interest at the time, and which gave rise
to various romantic stories, is to be found in most
series of judicial investigations, and especially in
a collection of celebrated trials recently published.
It appears that Margaret Reay was the daughter
of a stay-maker in Covent-garden, and served her
apprenticeship to a mantuamaker. Having attracted
the attention of Lord Sandwich, he treated
her from that period until her assassination, with
the greatest tenderness and affection. He introduced
to her a young ensign of the 68th Regiment,
then in command of a recruiting party at
Huntingdon, in the neighborhood of the mansion
of the Montagues. Mr. Hackman from the first
moment was desperately in love with her, and his
passion increased with the daily opportunities afforded
by invitations he received to Lord Sandwich's
table. With the object of continuing his
attentions, and the hope of ultimately engaging
her affections, he quitted the army, and, taking orders,
obtained the living of Wiverton, in Norfolk.
That Miss Reay had given him some encouragement,
is proved by the tenor of their correspondence;
but prudential motives induced her afterwards
to refuse the offer of his hand, and to intimate
a necessity for discontinuing his visits. Stung
by this unexpected termination of his long-cherished
expectations, Hackman's mind became unsettled;
on the 7th of April, 1779, he was occupied
all the morning in reading Blair's <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Sermons</span></span>; but in
the evening, as he was walking towards the Admiralty,
he saw Miss Reay pass in her coach, accompanied
by Signora Galli. He followed, and
discovered that she alighted at Covent-garden
Theatre, where she went to witness <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Love in a Village</span></span>.
He returned to his lodgings, armed himself
with a brace of pistols, went back to the theatre,
and when the performance was over, as Miss Reay
was stepping into her coach, he took a pistol in
each hand, one of which he discharged at her, and
killed her on the spot, and the other at himself,
but it did not take effect. He then beat his head
with the butt of the pistol, to destroy himself, but
was, after a struggle, secured and carried before
Sir John Fielding, who committed him to Bridewell,
and he was shortly after tried at the Old
Bailey, before the celebrated Justice Blackstone,
found guilty, and hanged at Tyburn on the 19th
of the month.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Basil Montagu was born in 1770, and received
his education at the Charter House. He was called
to the English bar by the Society of Gray's
Inn, the 19th of May, 1798, and soon obtained
considerable practice as a conveyancer. It was,
however, by his legal authorship and reporting
that he became particularly distinguished in the
profession. His various works and reports on the
subject, principally of the Law of Bankruptcy,
were of high estimation and lasting utility. In
1801, he produced his <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Summary of the Law of Set
Off</span></span>, with an Appendix of Cases, argued and determined
in the Courts of Law and Equity, in one
volume, octavo; in 1804-5, in four volumes, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">A Digest
of the Bankrupt Laws</span></span>, with a Collection of
the Statutes and of the Cases, which reached three
editions, and brought him into immediate notice
and considerable practice; and, some time afterward,
he printed a pamphlet on Bankrupts' Certificates.
His fame in this branch of forensic learning
procured him the appointment of a Commissioner
of Bankruptcy. Mr. Montagu wrote
also on philosophical subjects. Among his productions
of this tendency were <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Thoughts of Divines
and Philosophers; Selections from Taylor, Hooker,
Bishop Hall, and Bacon</span></span>. He edited an edition
of Lord Bacon's works, in seventeen volumes.
Another bent which his mind took, placed him by
the side of Romilly and Mackintosh in the cause
of Humanity. He had in his nature an abhorrence
of depriving any living thing of life, and
with regard to his own diet he totally abstained
from animal food. This led him to bestow his active
attention towards putting a stop to capital
punishment. In 1809 he published <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Opinions of
Different Authors on the Punishment of Death</span></span>.
The work was so well received, that he added a
a second and third volume to it. In 1811, when
the important question occupied Parliament, he
edited <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">The Debates on a Bill for Abolishing the
Punishment of Death for Stealing in a Dwelling
House</span></span>. In 1815 he reprinted a tract originally
published in 1801, called <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Hanging not Punishment
enough for Murderers</span></span>. Mr. Basil Montagu, who
had some years ago been made a Queen's counsel,
died at Boulogne on the 27th of November, in the
eighty-second year of his age.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Rear-Admiral Henry Gage Morris</span></span>, entered
the navy at the early age of twelve, and served
as midshipman throughout the French and American
wars. He was promoted to the rank of lieutenant,
April 2, 1793. He was engaged at the
capture of the French frigate <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Sybille</span></span>, in 1783, and
at the attack on Martinique, in 1793. He was
promoted to post rank August 12, 1812, and was
made rear-admiral in 1847. He died at Beverley,
24th ult. aged eighty-two. Admiral Morris was
younger brother of the late Captain Amherst Morris,
being second son of Colonel Roger Morris, a
member of the Governor's Council at New-York,
by Mary, daughter of Frederick Phillipse, of this
city. This family of Morris is one of great antiquity,
deriving its descent from Elystan Glodrydd, a
famed chieftain of Wales in the eleventh century.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Sapio</span></span> the once celebrated tenor singer, was
born in London, in 1792. In his early life he was
page to Queen Caroline, consort of George IV. He
made his first appearance on the metropolitan
stage at Drury Lane, the 1st December, 1824, as
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Seraskier</span></span>, in the "Siege of Belgrade," and he
soon attained and long preserved a high vocal
reputation. He died in obscurity, in London, about
the end of November.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">One of the most distinguished chiefs of the war
of Greek independence, General <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Jatrako</span></span>, is just
dead at Athens. He was one of the primates of
Marna; his family, as his name indicates, have for
many generations back been famous for their hereditary
medical talents, and the tradition exists among
them that a branch of their family formerly passed
from Sparta to Italy, translated their name into
Medici, and gave rise to the celebrated family of
that name.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page287">[pg 287]</span><a name="Pg287" id="Pg287" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Priessnitz</span></span>, the celebrated founder of hydropathy,
died at Graefenberg on the 26th of November,
at the age of fifty-two. In the morning of that
day Priessnitz was up and stirring at an early
hour, but complained of the cold, and had wood
brought in to make a large fire. His friends had
for some time believed him to be suffering from
dropsy of the chest, and at their earnest entreaty
he consented to take a little medicine, exclaiming
all the while, "It's of no use!" He would see no
physician, but remained to the last true to his profession.
About four o'clock in the afternoon of
the 26th he asked to be carried to bed, and upon
being laid down he expired! In early life he received
serious injury in the chest from an accident,
and he used to say himself that his constitution
was bad; that nothing but his own mode of life
and his own "cure" would have sustained him.
It is not known what attempts will be made to
carry on the establishment at Graefenberg, which
was in full activity at the moment of his death.
The most probable conjecture is, that his eldest
daughter and her husband (a Hungarian of property)
will carry it on, with the aid of some physician
who has studied Priessnitz's method. This
may succeed to a certain extent, for the place and
neighborhood are admirably adapted for taking the
water-cure, and the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">prestige</span></span> of Priessnitz's name,
as well as the tradition of his practice, will long
survive him: but the attraction which brought patients,
not only from the neighboring cities, but
from the remotest parts of the world, is gone. It
is not exactly known what amount of property
Priessnitz left, but it is supposed to be nearly
£100,000. When it is considered how small, compared
to that given to other physicians, was the
remuneration he received from his patients, and
that thirty years ago, Priessnitz was a poor peasant,
this fortune gives some measure of his immense
success.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">George Dunbar</span></span>, the distinguished Professor of
Greek Literature in the University of Edinburgh,
died on the 6th of December, at his residence in
that city. The natural decay attending even an
otherwise green old age has been for some years
aggravated by a virulent internal malady, which
at the commencement of the present season compelled
him to relinquish his academic duties. He
was born at the village of Caldingham, in Berwickshire,
in 1774. In early life he labored as a
gardener, but an accidental lameness, which lasted
throughout his subsequent life, incapacitated him
from active bodily employment. His attention
was then devoted to literature. He soon became
a scholar, and in truth a ripe and good one. Going
to Edinburgh, he readily obtained, on proof of
his acquirements, a tutorship in the family of Lord
Provost Fettes. Having been shortly after selected
as assistant to Professor Dalziel, he was
appointed, on that professor's death, to the Greek
chair in the Edinburgh University, in 1805. The
duties of this responsible position he discharged
most zealously and ably. The published works
of Professor Dunbar are well known. The <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Collectanea
Minora</span></span>, the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Collectanea Majora</span></span>, and the
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Greek Grammar</span></span>, have all had great reputation.
His chief production—massive in every sense—the
main object of his life of learned toil, was
his Greek Lexicon, which was given to the world
with his name in 1840.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Henry Luttrell</span></span>, one of the ornaments of a
society of what may be termed conversational
wits, died on the 19th of December, at the advanced
age of eighty-six. He was the friend and companion,
<span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">hand impari passu</span></span>, of Jeckyll, Mackintosh,
Jeffrey, Alvanley, Sydney Smith, and others of
that brilliant school, and of which the Misses Berry,
Rogers, Moore, and but a few others, are still
left. A correspondent of the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Times</span></span> says: "He
charmed especially by the playfulness and elegance
of his wit, the appropriateness and felicity
of illustration, the shrewdness of his remarks, and
the epigrammatic point of his conversation. Liveliness
of fancy was tempered in him with good
breeding and great kindness of disposition; and
one of the wittiest men of his day, he could amuse
and delight by the keenness of playful yet pungent
sallies, without wounding the feelings of any
one by the indulgence of bitterness and ill-nature."</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">English journals notice with expressions of regret
the death in Philadelphia of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">R. C. Taylor</span></span>,
on the 26th of October, aged sixty-two. Mr.
Taylor emigrated in the year 1830, being previously
well known as a Fellow both of the Antiquarian
and of the Geological Societies. He had published
a work of great care and research while
resident in his native county, Norfolk, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Index Monasticus
for East Anglia</span></span>; and had made some
useful explorations into the fossil remains on the
coast of Norfolk. In America he wrote for various
philosophical societies, and published, in 1848, his
work on the Statistics of Coal, by which alone he
was much known to the public of this country.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Royal University of Berlin has lost by
death since Christmas, MM. Lachmann, Stuhr, Jacobi,
Erman, and Dr. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Charles Theodore Franz</span></span>,
who died at Breslaw early in January, at the untimely
age of forty-five. For eleven years Dr.
Franz occupied the chair of Classical Philology in
the University of Berlin. He is the author of a
variety of works: in the first rank of which stand
his Criticisms on the Greek Tragic Poets, and his
several collections of Greek and Latin inscriptions
before unpublished. The London Morning Chronicle
remarks that the continent never before lost
so many great scholars in one year as in 1851.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">William Jacob</span></span>, F.R.S., a profound writer on
science and agriculture, was born in 1762. His
work, <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">An Inquiry into the Precious Metals</span></span>, has
been held in high estimation. His other principal
productions were <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Considerations on the Price of
Corn</span></span>; <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Tracts on Corn-Laws</span></span>; and a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">View of Agriculture
in Germany</span></span>. Mr. Jacob, who was formerly
Comptroller of Corn Returns in the Board
of Trade, died on the 17th of December, at his
residence in London, aged eighty-eight.</p>
</div>

<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-variant: small-caps">Mr. Paul Barras</span></span>, died in Paris from wounds
received in the contests between the people and
the military, on the second day of the usurpation
of Louis Napoleon. M. Barras resided in New-York
about twenty years, and was engaged here
as a teacher of his native language, and as a correspondent
of one of the Parisian journals. He
was an amiable man, of considerable talents, and
enthusiastic in his attachment to Republicanism.
He wrote several articles on American subjects in
the <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Revue de Paris</span></span>.</p>
</div>

<span class="tei tei-pb" id="page288">[pg 288]</span><a name="Pg288" id="Pg288" class="tei tei-anchor"></a>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<a name="toc112" id="toc112"></a>
<a name="pdf113" id="pdf113"></a>
<h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Ladies' Fashions for February.</span></h1>

<a name="fig114" id="fig114"></a><div class="tei tei-figure" style="text-align: center"><img src="images/image16.png" width="640" height="742" alt="Illustration" /></div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In matters of fashion there have been very few
changes since our last publication. We are in
the midst of the gay season, but its modes, until
disturbed by the approach of spring, were fixed
before the holidays, and for the most part have
already been reported. The Paris journals, we
may remark, however, dwell much on the unusual
ascendency of black, in furs, velvets, cloths, and
other heavy stuffs, for walking and carriage dresses,
and on the greater demand than in recent winters
for every species of embroidery.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">In the first of the above figures, representing a
promenade costume, we have a high dress of rich
silk; the skirt has plaided tucks woven in the material;
it is long, and very full. Manteau of velvet,
very richly embroidered; a broad black lace
is set on round the shoulders in the style of a cape,
and the cloak is embroidered above it. Capote of
white silk, of a very elegant form, with deep bavolet
or curtain; a droop of small feathers on the left side.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The second figure, or visiting costume, of heavy
silk, with four flounces, and corresponding waistcoat.
The waistcoat now takes the first place in a
lady's toilette, and may be considered a triumph
of luxury and elegance, reviving every description
of embroidery, and forcing the jewellers to be constantly
bringing out some novelty in buttons, &amp;c.
It is made very simple or very richly ornamented:
for instance, those of the most simple description
are made either of black velvet, embroidered with
braid, and fastened with black jet buttons, or of
cachemire; and a pretty style, of straw color,
embroidered in the same colored silk, and closed
with fancy silk bell buttons, whilst a few may be
seen in white, quilted and embroidered with oak
leaves and rose-buds. The rich style of waistcoat
being covered with embroideries, and being closed
up the front with buttons of brilliants. As a general
rule, the waistcoat is made high up the
throat, round which is a fall of lace, or opens <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">en
cœur</span></span>, having a <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">fichu à plastron</span></span> of embroidery,
worn under. The waistcoat has also two pockets.</p>
</div>

</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-back" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 6.00em">
<div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">

  
  
      <div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em">
        <h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Footnotes</span></h1>
        <dl class="tei tei-list-footnotes"><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_1" name="note_1" href="#noteref_1">1.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The large outer porch of Cowley's house had chambers
above it and beneath the window in front a tablet was
affixed, upon which was inscribed the epitaph "upon the
living author" which Cowley had written for himself,
whilst living in retirement here, commencing</p>

<div class="tei tei-lg" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em">
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">"Hic, O Viator, sub lare parvulo,</div>
<div class="tei tei-l" style="text-align: left; margin-left: 2.00em">Couleius hic est conditus hic jacet."</div>
</div>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">It is represented in its original condition in the two views
we have engraved.</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_2" name="note_2" href="#noteref_2">2.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Some additional rooms have been added to the house
by the same occupant, who has, however, religiously preserved
all the old rooms, which still exhibit the "fittings"
that existed in Cowley's time. The bed-chambers are
wainscotted with oaken panels. The staircase is a very
solid structure, with ornamental balusters, leading toward
the small study in which the poet wrote,—a little back
room, about five feet wide, looking upon the garden. It
may be distinguished in our back view of the house, by a
figure placed at the window. Cowley ended his life in this
house at the early age of forty-nine.</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_3" name="note_3" href="#noteref_3">3.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Brayley, in his History of Surrey, states that Cowley
accompanied by his friend Dean Spratt, having been to see
a "friend," did not set out for his walk home until it was
too late, and had drunk so deep, that they both lay out in
the fields all night; this gave Cowley the fever that carried
him off. Brayley's authority for this slander (which is
not borne out by the poet's previous course of life), is
"Spence's Anecdotes."</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_4" name="note_4" href="#noteref_4">4.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Life and Letters of Joseph Story, Associate Justice of
the Supreme Court of the United States, and Dane professor
of law at Harvard University. Edited by his son, William
W. Story. Two vols. Boston: Little &amp; Brown, 1851.</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_5" name="note_5" href="#noteref_5">5.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">As an example of the gravity and formality with
which proceedings in matters of this nature were conducted,
even as late as the end of the sixteenth century,
take the subjoined palinode or recantation of a Flemish
ecclesiastic, who had been guilty of the offence of doubting
the evection, or bodily transport through the air, of witches
and wizards. The original may be found in Delrio, at the
end of the Appendix, in his 5th book:—</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"I Cornelius Loseus Gallidius, born in the town of
Gouda, in Holland, now, by the command of the renowned
and illustrious Lord Nuncio Apostolic, the Lord Octavius
Bishop of Tricaruis, arrested and detained in the Imperial
Monastery of St. Maximin, near Treves, on account of certain
tracts 'On True and False Witchcraft,' rashly and
presumptuously by me written, published, and sent to be
printed at Cologne, without the perusal or permission of
the superiors of this place: whereas I am informed for
certain that in the aforesaid books, and also in certain of
letters on the same subject, sent clandestinely to the
clergy and senate of Treves, and others, for the purpose of
impeding the course of justice against witches and magicians,
there are contained many articles which are not only
erroneous and scandalous, but also suspected of heresy,
and savoring of sedition: I therefore hereby revoke, condemn,
reject, and repudiate, as if they had never been said
or asserted by me, the said articles, as seditious and temerarious,
contrary to the common judgment of learned theologians,
to the decision and bulls of the supreme Pontiffs,
and to the practice, and statutes, and laws of the magistrates
and judges, as well as of this Archdiocese of Treves,
as of the other provinces and principalities, in the order in
which the same are hereunto annexed.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"1. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Imprimis.</span></span> I revoke, condemn, reject, and hold as
disproved, what both in words and writing I have often
and to many persons pertinaciously asserted; and what I
would have had taken as the head and chief ornament of
my disputations, to wit, that what is written touching the
corporeal evection or translation from place to place of
witches and magicians, is to be held as a vain superstition
and figment, as well because that opinion savors of heretical
pravity, as because it partakes of sedition, and so also
savors of the crimes of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">lese majesté</span></span>. 2. In the second
place, I revoke what I have pertinaciously, but without
solid reasons, alleged against the magistracy, in letters secretly
sent to several, that is to say, that the course of procedure
against witches is erroneous and fantastical: asserting,
moreover, that those witches were compelled by the
severity of torture to confess acts that they had never done;
that innocent blood was shed by a cruel judicature; and
that by a new alchemy gold and silver were extracted from
human blood. 3. Thereby, and by the like assertions,
partly diffused by private oral communications among the
vulgar, partly by various letters addressed to both branches
of the magistracy, imputing to superiors and judges the exercise
of tyranny towards the subjects. 4 And consequently,
inasmuch as the most reverend and illustrious
Archbishop and Prince Elector of Treves not only permits
witches and magicians to be subjected to deserved punishment
in his diocese, but has also ordained laws regulating
the mode and cost of the procedure against witches, thereby
with inconsiderate temerity tacitly insinuating the charge
of tyranny against the said Elector of Treves. 5. <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">Item.</span></span> I
revoke and condemn these following conclusions, to wit,
that there are no such beings as sorcerers, who renounce
God and worship the Devil, who bring on tempests, and do
the work of Satan and such like, but that all these things
are dreams. 6. Moreover that magic is not to be called
sorcery, nor its practisers to be deemed sorcerers, and that
that that place of Exod. xxii, ('Ye shall not suffer sorcerers to
live') is to be understood of those who slay with material
poison, naturally administered. 7. That no contract exists
or can exist between man and the demon. 8. That demons
do not assume bodies. 9. That the life of Hilary, written
by St. Jerome, is not authentic. 10. That the demon cannot
carnally know mankind. 11. That neither demons nor
witches can excite tempests, rain, hail, &amp;c., and that what
is alleged in that behalf is mere dreams. 12. That spirits
and forms can be seen by mankind separate from matter.
13. That it is rash to assert that whatever demons can do
magicians can also by the help of demons. 14. That the
assertion that the superior demon can expel the inferior is
erroneous and derogatory to Christ.—Luke xi. 15. That
the Popes in the bulls do not allege that magicians and
sorcerers perpetrate such acts as above mentioned.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"All these and the like, my assertions, with my many
calumnies, falsehoods, and sycophancies, petulantly, indecorously,
and mendaciously expressed against the magistracy, as well secular as ecclesiastical, wherewith my writings
on witchcraft abound, I hereby expressly and deliberately
condemn, recant, and reject, earnestly beseeching
pardon of God and my superiors, and faithfully promising
that henceforth I will not, either by word of mouth or by
writing, by myself or others, in any place where I shall
happen to be, teach, promulgate, or assert the same or any
of them. If I shall do to the contrary, I subject myself
thenceforth and henceforth to the pains of the law against
relapsed heretics, recusants, seditious misdemeanants, and
convicts of <span class="tei tei-hi"><span style="font-style: italic">lese majesté</span></span>, to the pains of libellous sycophants
publicly convicted, and also to those enacted against perjurers.
I submit myself also to arbitrary correction at the
pleasure of the Archbishop of Treves, and of the other
magistrates under whom I shall happen to live, and who
may be certified of my relapse or violated undertaking,
that they may punish me according to my deserts, in
name, fame, goods, and body.  In testimony of all which
I have, with my proper hand, subscribed this my recantation
of the aforesaid articles, in presence of the notary and
witnesses."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"(Signed,)   Cornelius Loseus Gallidius."</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Attestation.—These presents were done in the
Imperial Monastery of Saint Maximin Without, near
Treves, in the abbatial chamber, there being then
present the Venerable and Excellent Lord Peter
Binsfeldt, Bishop of Azof, Vicar-General of the Most
Reverend Lord Archbishop of Treves, our Most Gracious
Lord in matters spiritual; Reiner, Abbot of
the said monastery; Bartholomew Bodegem, Reader
of either Law in the Ecclesiastical Court of Treves;
George Helffenster, Doctor of Sacred Theology, Dean
of the Collegiate Church of St. Simon, in the city of
Treves; and John Golmann, Doctor of Laws, Canon
of the said Church, and Seal-Bearer of the Court of
Treves, &amp;c.; in the year of our Lord 1592, Treves
style, on Monday, the 15th day of the month of
March, in presence of me, the Notary underwritten,
and of Nicholas Dolent, and Daniel Major, the
Amanuensis and Secretary respectively of the Reverend
Lord Abbot, trustworthy witnesses specially
called and required hereto.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Subscribed, Adam Tecton, Notary.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">"Compared with the original and found to agree,
by me, the under-written Secretary of the town of
Antwerp.</p>

<p class="tei tei-p" style="text-align: right; margin-bottom: 1.00em">S. Kieffel."</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_6" name="note_6" href="#noteref_6">6.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Lockhart's Spanish Ballads.</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_7" name="note_7" href="#noteref_7">7.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Continued from page 109.</p></dd><dt class="tei tei-notelabel"><a id="note_8" name="note_8" href="#noteref_8">8.</a></dt><dd class="tei tei-notetext"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">We are indebted to Dr. Francis for a revised copy, with
additions, of his very interesting address here printed, which
was delivered at the Printers' Banquet in New-York on the
16th of January.</p></dd></dl>
      </div>
  

</div>

<hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 5.00em; margin-top: 5.00em">
<div id="pgfooter" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 4.00em; margin-top: 4.00em"><pre class="pre tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE - VOLUME V - NO II***
</pre><hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em"><a name="rightpageheader115" id="rightpageheader115"></a><a name="pgtoc116" id="pgtoc116"></a><a name="pdf117" id="pdf117"></a><h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">Credits</span></h1><table summary="This is a list." class="tei tei-list" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em"><tbody><tr><th class="tei tei-label tei-label-gloss">December 13, 2006  </th></tr><tr><td class="tei tei-item"><table summary="This is a list." class="tei tei-list" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em"><tbody><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item">Project Gutenberg Edition</td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item"><span class="tei tei-respStmt">
  <span class="tei tei-name">Joshua Hutchinson<br /></span>
  <span class="tei tei-name">Online Distributed Proofreading Team</span>
  <span class="tei tei-name">This file was produced from images generously made available by Cornell University Digital Collections</span>
  </span></td></tr></tbody></table></td></tr></tbody></table></div><hr class="doublepage" /><div class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em"><a name="rightpageheader118" id="rightpageheader118"></a><a name="pgtoc119" id="pgtoc119"></a><a name="pdf120" id="pdf120"></a><h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h1><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This file should be named 
          20102-h.html or 
          20102-h.zip.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This and all associated files of various formats will be found
          in: 

            <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/1/0/20102/" class="block tei tei-xref" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em"><span style="font-size: 90%">http://www.gutenberg.org</span><span style="font-size: 90%">/dirs/2/0/1/0/20102/</span></a></p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Updated editions will replace the previous one — the old
          editions will be renamed.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Creating the works from public domain print editions means that
          no one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the
          Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United
          States without permission and without paying copyright royalties.
          Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this
          license, apply to copying and distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works
          to protect the Project Gutenberg™ concept and trademark. Project Gutenberg is a registered
          trademark, and may not be used if you charge for the eBooks,
          unless you receive specific permission. If you do not charge
          anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is
          very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose such as
          creation of derivative works, reports, performances and research.
          They may be modified and printed and given away — you may do
          practically <em class="tei tei-emph"><span style="font-style: italic">anything</span></em> with public domain eBooks.
          Redistribution is subject to the trademark license, especially
          commercial redistribution.</p></div><hr class="page" /><div id="pglicense" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 3.00em; margin-top: 3.00em"><a name="rightpageheader121" id="rightpageheader121"></a><a name="pgtoc122" id="pgtoc122"></a><a name="pdf123" id="pdf123"></a><h1 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 3.46em; margin-top: 3.46em"><span style="font-size: 173%">The Full Project Gutenberg License</span></h1><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><em class="tei tei-emph"><span style="font-style: italic">Please read this before you distribute or use this
          work.</span></em></p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">To protect the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting the free
          distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing
          this work (or any other work associated in any way with the
          phrase <span class="tei tei-q">“Project Gutenberg”</span>), you agree to comply with all the terms
          of the Full Project Gutenberg™ License (<a href="#pglicense" class="tei tei-ref">available with this file</a> or online
          at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>).</p><div id="pglicense1" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Section 1.</span></h2><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">General Terms of Use &amp; Redistributing Project Gutenberg™
            electronic works</span></h2><div id="pglicense1A" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.A.</span></h3><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg™ electronic
              work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
              and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual
              property (trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree
              to abide by all the terms of this agreement, you must cease
              using and return or destroy all copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic
              works in your possession. If you paid a fee for obtaining a
              copy of or access to a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work and you do not
              agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement, you may
              obtain a refund from the person or entity to whom you paid the
              fee as set forth in paragraph <a href="#pglicense1E8" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.8.</a></p></div><div id="pglicense1B" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.B.</span></h3><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-q">“Project Gutenberg”</span> is a registered trademark. It may only be used on or
              associated in any way with an electronic work by people who agree to be
              bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few things that you
              can do with most Project Gutenberg™ electronic works even without complying with the
              full terms of this agreement. See paragraph <a href="#pglicense1C" class="tei tei-ref">1.C</a> below. There are a lot of things you can
              do with Project Gutenberg™ electronic works if you follow the terms of this
              agreement and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg™ electronic
              works. See paragraph <a href="#pglicense1E" class="tei tei-ref">1.E</a> below.</p></div><div id="pglicense1C" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.C.</span></h3><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (<span class="tei tei-q">“the Foundation”</span> or PGLAF), owns a compilation
              copyright in the collection of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works. Nearly all the
              individual works in the collection are in the public domain in the
              United States. If an individual work is in the public domain in the
              United States and you are located in the United States, we do not claim
              a right to prevent you from copying, distributing, performing,
              displaying or creating derivative works based on the work as long as all
              references to Project Gutenberg are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support
              the Project Gutenberg™ mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
              freely sharing Project Gutenberg™ works in compliance with the terms of this
              agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg™ name associated with the work. You can
              easily comply with the terms of this agreement by keeping this work in
              the same format with its attached full Project Gutenberg™ License when you share it
              without charge with others.</p></div><div id="pglicense1D" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.D.</span></h3><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
              what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
              a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
              the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
              before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
              creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project Gutenberg™ work.
              The Foundation makes no representations concerning the copyright status
              of any work in any country outside the United States.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.E.</span></h3><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:</p><div id="pglicense1E1" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.1.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
                access to, the full Project Gutenberg™ License must appear prominently whenever any
                copy of a Project Gutenberg™ work (any work on which the phrase <span class="tei tei-q">“Project Gutenberg”</span>
                appears, or with which the phrase <span class="tei tei-q">“Project Gutenberg”</span> is associated) is
                accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, copied or distributed:

                    </p><div class="block tei tei-q" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 0.90em"><span style="font-size: 90%">This eBook is for the use of
                    anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no
                    restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it
                    away or re-use it under the terms of the Project
                    Gutenberg License included with this eBook or
                    online at </span><a href="http://www.gutenberg.org" class="tei tei-xref"><span style="font-size: 90%">http://www.gutenberg.org</span></a></p></div></div><div id="pglicense1E2" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.2.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is derived from the public
                domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is posted with
                permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied and
                distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees or
                charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work with
                the phrase <span class="tei tei-q">“Project Gutenberg”</span> associated with or appearing on the work, you
                must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs <a href="#pglicense1E1" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.1</a> through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for
                the use of the work and the Project Gutenberg™ trademark as set forth in paragraphs
                <a href="#pglicense1E8" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.8</a> or 1.E.9.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E3" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.3.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If an individual Project Gutenberg™ electronic work is posted with the permission
                of the copyright holder, your use and distribution must comply with both
                paragraphs <a href="#pglicense1E1" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.1</a> through 1.E.7 and any
                additional terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will
                be linked to the Project Gutenberg™ License for all works posted with the permission
                of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E4" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.4.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg™ License terms from
                this work, or any files containing a part of this work or any other work
                associated with Project Gutenberg™.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E5" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.5.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
                electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
                prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph <a href="#pglicense1E1" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.1</a> with active links or immediate access
                to the full terms of the Project Gutenberg™ License.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E6" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.6.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
                compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including
                any word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access
                to or distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg™ work in a format other than
                <span class="tei tei-q">“Plain Vanilla ASCII”</span> or other format used in the official
                version posted on the official Project Gutenberg™ web site (http://www.gutenberg.org), you must, at
                no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a copy, a
                means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
                request, of the work in its original <span class="tei tei-q">“Plain Vanilla ASCII”</span> or
                other form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg™ License
                as specified in paragraph <a href="#pglicense1E1" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.1.</a></p></div><div id="pglicense1E7" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.7.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, performing,
                copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg™ works unless you comply with
                paragraph <a href="#pglicense1E8" class="tei tei-ref">1.E.8</a> or 1.E.9.</p></div><div id="pglicense1E8" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.8.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing access to
                or distributing Project Gutenberg™ electronic works provided that</p><table summary="This is a list." class="tei tei-list" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em; margin-top: 1.00em"><tbody><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label">•  </th><td class="tei tei-item"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
                  the use of Project Gutenberg™ works calculated using the method you already use to
                  calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is owed to the owner of the
                  Project Gutenberg™ trademark, but he has agreed to donate royalties under this
                  paragraph to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments must be paid within 60 days
                  following each date on which you prepare (or are legally required to
                  prepare) your periodic tax returns. Royalty payments should be clearly
                  marked as such and sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the address specified in <a href="#pglicense4" class="tei tei-ref">Section 4, <span class="tei tei-q">“Information about donations to the
                  Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.”</span></a></p></td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
                  you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he does
                  not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg™ License. You must require such
                  a user to return or destroy all copies of the works possessed in a
                  physical medium and discontinue all use of and all access to other
                  copies of Project Gutenberg™ works.</p></td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You provide, in accordance with paragraph <a href="#pglicense1F3" class="tei tei-ref">1.F.3</a>, a full refund of any money paid for a
                  work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the electronic work is
                  discovered and reported to you within 90 days of receipt of the
                  work.</p></td></tr><tr class="tei tei-labelitem"><th class="tei tei-label"></th><td class="tei tei-item"><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
                  distribution of Project Gutenberg™ works.</p></td></tr></tbody></table></div><div id="pglicense1E9" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.E.9.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work or
                group of works on different terms than are set forth in this agreement,
                you must obtain permission in writing from both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
                Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark. Contact the Foundation as set
                forth in <a href="#pglicense3" class="tei tei-ref">Section 3</a> below.</p></div></div><div id="pglicense1F" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h3 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">1.F.</span></h3><div id="pglicense1F1" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.1.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable effort to identify,
                do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread public domain works
                in creating the Project Gutenberg™ collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg™
                electronic works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may
                contain <span class="tei tei-q">“Defects,”</span> such as, but not limited to, incomplete,
                inaccurate or corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
                intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other
                medium, a computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be
                read by your equipment.</p></div><div id="pglicense1F2" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.2.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES — Except for the <span class="tei tei-q">“Right of
                Replacement or Refund”</span> described in <a href="#pglicense1F3" class="tei tei-ref">paragraph
                1.F.3</a>, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project Gutenberg™ trademark, and any
                other party distributing a Project Gutenberg™ electronic work under this agreement,
                disclaim all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
                legal fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
                LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
                PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE TRADEMARK
                OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE LIABLE TO
                YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR INCIDENTAL
                DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.</p></div><div id="pglicense1F3" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.3.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND — If you discover a defect in
                this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can receive a
                refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a written
                explanation to the person you received the work from. If you received
                the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with your
                written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with the
                defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
                refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
                providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
                receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
                is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
                opportunities to fix the problem.</p></div><div id="pglicense1F4" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.4.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in
                <a href="#pglicense1F3" class="tei tei-ref">paragraph 1.F.3</a>, this work is provided
                to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
                IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR
                FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.</p></div><div id="pglicense1F5" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.5.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied warranties or
                the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. If any
                disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the law of
                the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
                interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
                the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
                provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.</p></div><div id="pglicense1F6" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h4 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em">1.F.6.</h4><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">INDEMNITY — You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
                trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
                providing copies of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works in accordance with this
                agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, promotion
                and distribution of Project Gutenberg™ electronic works, harmless from all
                liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, that arise directly
                or indirectly from any of the following which you do or cause to occur:
                (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg™ work, (b) alteration,
                modification, or additions or deletions to any Project Gutenberg™ work, and (c) any
                Defect you cause.</p></div></div></div><div id="pglicense2" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Section  2.</span></h2><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg™</span></h2><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Project Gutenberg™ is synonymous with the free distribution of electronic works
            in formats readable by the widest variety of computers including
            obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists because of the
            efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks
            of life.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
            assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg™'s goals and
            ensuring that the Project Gutenberg™ collection will remain freely available for
            generations to come. In 2001, the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a
            secure and permanent future for Project Gutenberg™ and future generations. To learn
            more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and how your efforts and donations can help, see
            Sections <a href="#pglicense3" class="tei tei-ref">3</a> and <a href="#pglicense4" class="tei tei-ref">4</a> and the Foundation web page at <a href="http://www.pglaf.org" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.pglaf.org</a>.</p></div><div id="pglicense3" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Section 3.</span></h2><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h2><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit 501(c)(3) educational corporation
            organized under the laws of the state of Mississippi and granted tax
            exempt status by the Internal Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or
            federal tax identification number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter
            is posted at <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf</a>. Contributions
            to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent permitted by U.S.
            federal laws and your state's laws.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr.
            S. Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are
            scattered throughout numerous locations. Its business office is
            located at 809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801)
            596-1887, email business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date
            contact information can be found at the Foundation's web site and
            official page at <a href="http://www.pglaf.org" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.pglaf.org</a></p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">For additional contact information:

              </p><div class="block tei tei-address" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em"><span class="tei tei-addrLine"><span style="font-size: 90%">Dr. Gregory B. Newby</span></span><br /><span class="tei tei-addrLine"><span style="font-size: 90%">Chief Executive and Director</span></span><br /><span class="tei tei-addrLine"><span style="font-size: 90%">gbnewby@pglaf.org</span></span><br /></div></div><div id="pglicense4" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Section 4.</span></h2><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation</span></h2><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Project Gutenberg™ depends upon and cannot survive without wide spread public
            support and donations to carry out its mission of increasing the number
            of public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed in
            machine readable form accessible by the widest array of equipment
            including outdated equipment. Many small donations ($1 to $5,000) are
            particularly important to maintaining tax exempt status with the
            IRS.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
            charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
            States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
            considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
            with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations where
            we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To SEND
            DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any particular state
            visit <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
            have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
            against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
            approach us with offers to donate.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
            any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
            outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation methods and
            addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other ways including
            checks, online payments and credit card donations. To donate, please
            visit: <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate" class="tei tei-xref">http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate</a></p></div><div id="pglicense5" class="tei tei-div" style="margin-bottom: 2.00em; margin-top: 2.00em"><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: left; margin-bottom: 2.88em; margin-top: 2.88em"><span style="font-size: 144%">Section 5.</span></h2><h2 class="tei tei-head" style="text-align: center; margin-bottom: 2.40em; margin-top: 2.40em"><span style="font-size: 120%">General Information About Project Gutenberg™ electronic
            works.</span></h2><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em"><span class="tei tei-name">Professor Michael S. Hart</span> is the
            originator of the Project Gutenberg™ concept of a library of electronic works that
            could be freely shared with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and
            distributed Project Gutenberg™ eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer
            support.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Project Gutenberg™ eBooks are often created from several printed editions, all of
            which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. unless a copyright
            notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily keep eBooks in
            compliance with any particular paper edition.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's
            eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII,
            compressed (zipped), HTML and others.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Corrected <em class="tei tei-emph"><span style="font-style: italic">editions</span></em> of our eBooks replace the old file
            and take over the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file
            is renamed. <em class="tei tei-emph"><span style="font-style: italic">Versions</span></em> based on separate sources are treated
            as new eBooks receiving new filenames and etext numbers.</p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search
            facility: 
            
              <a href="http://www.gutenberg.org" class="block tei tei-xref" style="margin-bottom: 1.80em; margin-left: 3.60em; margin-top: 1.80em; margin-right: 3.60em"><span style="font-size: 90%">http://www.gutenberg.org</span></a></p><p class="tei tei-p" style="margin-bottom: 1.00em">This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg™, including how to
            make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and
            how to subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</p></div></div></div>
</div>

</div>

    </div>
</body></html>
generated by cgit v1.2.3 (git 2.25.1) at 2026-04-15 04:47:40 +0000