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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 19:59:34 -0700 |
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diff --git a/33452-tei/33452-tei.tei b/33452-tei/33452-tei.tei new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c10acb1 --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/33452-tei.tei @@ -0,0 +1,21824 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" ?> + +<!DOCTYPE TEI.2 SYSTEM "http://www.gutenberg.org/tei/marcello/0.4/dtd/pgtei.dtd" [ + +<!ENTITY u5 "http://www.tei-c.org/Lite/"> + +]> + +<TEI.2 lang="en"> +<teiHeader> + <fileDesc> + <titleStmt> + <title>Harper's New Monthly Magazine, No. V, October, 1850, Volume I.</title> + </titleStmt> + <editionStmt> + <edition n="1">Edition 1</edition> + </editionStmt> + <publicationStmt> + <publisher>Project Gutenberg</publisher> + <date>August 17, 2010</date> + <idno type="etext-no">33452</idno> + <availability> + <p>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 online at www.gutenberg.org/license</p> + </availability> + </publicationStmt> + <sourceDesc> + <bibl> + Created electronically. + </bibl> + </sourceDesc> + </fileDesc> + <encodingDesc> + </encodingDesc> + <profileDesc> + <langUsage> + <language id="en"></language> + <language id="ru"></language> + <language id="la"></language> + <language id="fr"></language> + <language id="it"></language> + <language id="de"></language> + </langUsage> + </profileDesc> + <revisionDesc> + <change> + <date value="2010-08-17">August 17, 2010</date> + <respStmt> + <name> + Produced by David King and the Online + Distributed Proofreading Team at <http://www.pgdp.net/>. + </name> + </respStmt> + <item>Project Gutenberg TEI edition 1</item> + </change> + </revisionDesc> +</teiHeader> + +<pgExtensions> + <pgStyleSheet> + .boxed { x-class: boxed } + .shaded { x-class: shaded } + .rules { x-class: rules; rules: all } + .indent { margin-left: 2 } + .bold { font-weight: bold } + .italic { font-style: italic } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps } + </pgStyleSheet> + + <pgCharMap formats="txt.iso-8859-1"> + <char id="U0x2014"> + <charName>mdash</charName> + <desc>EM DASH</desc> + <mapping>--</mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2003"> + <charName>emsp</charName> + <desc>EM SPACE</desc> + <mapping> </mapping> + </char> + <char id="U0x2026"> + <charName>hellip</charName> + <desc>HORIZONTAL ELLIPSIS</desc> + <mapping>...</mapping> + </char> + </pgCharMap> +</pgExtensions> + +<text lang="en"> + <front> + <div> + <divGen type="pgheader" /> + </div> + <div> + <divGen type="encodingDesc" /> + </div> + + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">Harper's</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">New Monthly Magazine</p> + <p rend="font-size: xx-large; text-align: center">No. V.—October, 1850.—Vol. I.</p> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: always"> + <head>Contents</head> + <divGen type="toc" /> + </div> + + </front> +<body> + +<pb n='577'/><anchor id='Pg577'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Wordsworth—His Character +And Genius.</head> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p577.png' rend='width: 60%'> + <figDesc>Illustration: Wordsworth.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +In a late article on Southey, we alluded to +the solitary position of Wordsworth in that +lake country where he once shone the brightest +star in a large galaxy. Since then, the star of +Jove, so beautiful and large, has gone out in +darkness—the greatest laureate of England has +expired—the intensest, most unique, and most +pure-minded of our poets, with the single exceptions +of Milton and Cowper, is departed. +And it were lesemajesty against his mighty +shade not to pay it our tribute while yet his +memory, and the grass of his grave, are green. +</p> + +<p> +It is singular, that only a few months have +elapsed since the great antagonist of his literary +fame—Lord Jeffrey (who, we understand, persisted +to the last in his ungenerous and unjust +estimate), left the bench of human, to appear +at the bar of Divine justice. Seldom has the +death of a celebrated man produced a more +powerful impression in his own city and circle, +and a less powerful impression on the wide +horizon of the world. In truth, he had outlived +himself. It had been very different had he +passed away thirty years ago, when the <q>Edinburgh +Review</q> was in the plenitude of its influence. +As it was, he disappeared like a star at +midnight, whose descent is almost unnoticed +while the whole heavens are white with glory, +not like a sun going down, that night may come +over the earth. One of the acutest, most accomplished, +most warm-hearted, and generous +of men, Jeffrey wanted that stamp of universality, +<pb n='578'/><anchor id='Pg578'/> +that highest order of genius, that depth +of insight, and that simple directness of purpose, +not to speak of that moral and religious consecration, +which <q>give the world assurance of a +man.</q> He was the idol of Edinburgh, and the +pride of Scotland, because he condensed in himself +those qualities which the modern Athens +has long been accustomed to covet and admire—taste +and talent rather than genius—subtlety +of appreciation rather than power of origination—the +logical understanding rather than the inventive +insight—and because his name <emph>had</emph> sounded +out to the ends of the earth. But nature and +man, not Edinburgh Castle, or the Grampian +Hills merely, might be summoned to mourn in +Wordsworth's departure the loss of one of their +truest high-priests, who had gazed into some +of the deepest secrets of the one, and echoed +some of the loftiest aspirations of the other. +</p> + +<p> +To soften such grief, however, there comes +in the reflection, that the task of this great poet +had been nobly discharged. He <emph>had</emph> given the +world assurance, full, and heaped, and running +over, of what he meant, and of what was meant +by him. While the premature departure of a +Schiller, a Byron, or a Keats, gives us emotions +similar to those wherewith we would behold +the crescent moon, snatched away as by some +<q>insatiate archer,</q> up into the Infinite, ere it +grew into its full glory—Wordsworth, like Scott, +Goethe, and Southey, was permitted to fill his +full and broad sphere. +</p> + +<p> +What Wordsworth's mission was, may be, +perhaps, understood through some previous remarks +upon his great mistress—Nature, as a +poetical personage. +</p> + +<p> +There are three methods of contemplating +nature. These are the material, the shadowy, +and the mediatorial. The materialist looks upon +it as the great and only reality. It is a vast +solid fact, for ever burning and rolling around, +below and above him. The idealist, on the +contrary, regards it as a shadow—a mode of +mind—the infinite projection of his own thought. +The man who stands <emph>between</emph> the two extremes, +looks on nature as a great, but not ultimate or +everlasting scheme of mediation, or compromise, +between pure and absolute spirit and humanity—adumbrating +God to man, and bringing man +near to God. To the materialist, there is an +altar, star-lighted heaven-high, but no God. +To the idealist, there is a God, but no altar. +He who holds the theory of mediation, has the +Great Spirit as his God, and the universe as the +altar on which he presents the gift of his poetical +(we do not speak at present so much of his +theological) adoration. +</p> + +<p> +It must be obvious, at once, which of those +three views of nature is the most poetical. It +is surely that which keeps the two principles of +spirit and matter distinct and unconfounded—preserves +in their proper relations—the soul and +the body of things—God within, and without the +garment by which, in Goethe's grand thought, +<q>we see him by.</q> While one party deify, and +another destroy matter, the third impregnate, +without identifying it with the Divine presence. +</p> + +<p> +The notions suggested by this view, which is +that of Scripture, are exceedingly comprehensive +and magnificent. Nature becomes to the +poet's eye <q><emph>a great sheet let down from God out +of heaven</emph>,</q> and in which there is no object +<q>common or unclean.</q> The purpose and the +Being above cast such a grandeur over the pettiest +or barest objects, as did the fiery pillar +upon the sand, or the shrubs of the howling +desert of its march. Every thing becomes valuable +when looked upon as a communication +from God, imperfect only from the nature of the +material used. What otherwise might have +been concluded discords, now appear only stammerings +or whisperings in the Divine voice; +thorns and thistles spring above the primeval +curse, the <q>meanest flower that blows</q> gives +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +The creation is neither unduly exalted nor contemptuously +trampled under-foot, but maintains +its dignified position, as an embassador from +the Divine King. The glory of something far +beyond association—that of a divine and perpetual +presence—is shed over the landscape, +and its golden-drops are spilled upon the stars. +Objects the most diverse—the cradle of the +child, the wet hole of the centipede, the bed of +the corpse, and the lair of the earthquake, the +nest of the lark, and the crag on which sits, +half asleep, the dark vulture, digesting blood—are +all clothed in a light the same in kind, +though varying in degree— +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>A light which never was on sea or shore.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +In the poetry of the Hebrews, accordingly, +the locusts are God's <q>great army;</q>—the +winds are his messengers, the thunder his voice, +the lightning a <q>fiery stream going before him,</q> +the moon his witness in the heavens, the sun a +strong man rejoicing to run his race—all creation +is roused and startled into life through him—its +every beautiful, or dire, or strange shape in +the earth or the sky, is God's movable tent; the +place where, for a season, his honor, his beauty, +his strength, and his justice dwell—the tenant +not degraded, and inconceivable dignity being +added to the abode. +</p> + +<p> +His mere <q>tent,</q> however—for while the +great and the infinite are thus connected with +the little and the finite, the subordination of the +latter to the former is always maintained. The +most magnificent objects in nature are but the +mirrors to God's face—the scaffolding to his future +purposes; and, like mirrors, are to wax dim; +and, like scaffolding, to be removed. The great +sheet is to be <emph>received up</emph> again into heaven. +The heavens and the earth are to pass away, +and to be succeeded, if not by a purely mental +economy, yet by one of a more spiritual materialism, +compared to which the former shall no +more be remembered, neither come into mind. +Those frightful and fantastic forms of animated +life, through which God's glory seems to shine +<pb n='579'/><anchor id='Pg579'/> +with a struggle, and but faintly, shall disappear—nay, +the worlds which bore, and sheltered +them in their rugged dens and eaves, shall flee +from the face of the regenerator. <q>A milder +day</q> is to dawn on the universe—the refinement +of matter is to keep pace with the elevation +of mind. Evil and sin are to be eternally +banished to some Siberia of space. The word +of the poet is to be fulfilled, +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>And one eternal spring encircles all!</q> +</quote> + +<p> +The mediatorial purpose of creation, fully subserved, +is to be abandoned, that we may see +<q>eye to eye,</q> and that God may be <q>all in all.</q> +</p> + +<p> +That such views of matter—its present ministry—the +source of its beauty and glory—and +its future destiny, transferred from the pages of +both Testaments to those of our great moral +and religious poets, have deepened some of their +profoundest, and swelled some of their highest +strains, is unquestionable. Such prospects as +were in Milton's eye, when he sung, +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l rend='margin-left: 8'><q rend='pre'>Thy Saviour and thy Lord</q></l> +<l>Last in the clouds from heaven to be revealed,</l> +<l>In glory of the Father to dissolve</l> +<l>Satan with his perverted world; then raise</l> +<l>From the conflagrant mass, purged and refined,</l> +<l><q rend='post'>New heavens, new earth, ages of endless date,</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +may be found in Thomson, in his closing Hymn +to the Seasons, in Coleridge's <q>Religious Musings,</q> +(in Shelley's <q>Prometheus</q> even, but +perverted and disguised), in Bailey's <q>Festus</q> +(cumbered and entangled with his religious +theory); and more rootedly, although less theologically, +than in all the rest, in the poetry of +Wordsworth. +</p> + +<p> +The secret of Wordsworth's profound and +peculiar love for Nature, even in her meaner +and minuter forms, may lie, perhaps, here. +De Quincey seeks for it in a peculiar conformation +of the eye, as if he actually did see more in +the object than other men—in the rose a richer +red, in the sky a deeper azure, in the broom a +yellower gold, in the sun a more dazzling ray, +in the sea a finer foam, and in the star a more +sparkling splendor, than even Nature's own +<q>sweet and cunning</q> hand put on; but the +critic has not sought to explain the rationale of +this peculiarity. Mere acuteness of vision it +can not have been, else the eagle might have +<emph>felt</emph>, though not written, <q>The Excursion</q>—else +the fact is not accountable why many of +weak sight, such as Burke, have been rapturous +admirers of Nature; and so, till we learn that +Mr. De Quincey has looked through Wordsworth's +eyes, we must call this a mere fancy. +Hazlitt again, and others since, have accounted +for the phenomenon by association—but this +fails, we suspect, fully to explain the deep, +native, and brooding passion in question—a +passion which, instead of being swelled by the +associations of after life, rose to lull stature in +youth, as <q>Tintern Abbey</q> testifies. One +word of his own, perhaps, better solves the +mystery—it is the one word <q>consecration</q>— +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>The <emph>consecration</emph> and the poet's dream.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +His eye had been anointed with eye-salve, and +he saw, as his poet-predecessors had done, the +temple in which he was standing, heard in every +breeze and ocean billow the sound of a temple-service, +and felt that the grandeur of the ritual, +and of its recipient, threw the shadow of their +greatness upon every stone in the corners of the +edifice, and upon every eft crawling along its +floors. Reversing the miracle, he saw <q>trees +as men walking</q>—heard the speechless sins, +and, in the beautiful thought of <q>the Roman,</q> +caught on his ear the fragments of a <q>divine +soliloquy,</q> filling up the pauses in a universal +anthem. Hence the tumultuous, yet awful joy +of his youthful feelings to Nature. Hence his +estimation of its lowliest features; for does not +every bush and tree appear to him a <q>pillar in +the temple of his God?</q> The leaping fish +pleases him, because its <q>cheer</q> in the lonely +tarn is of praise. The dropping of the earth on +the coffin lid, is a slow and solemn psalm, mingling +in austere sympathy with the raven's +croak, and in his <q>Power of sound</q> he proceeds +elaborately to condense all those varied voices, +high or low, soft or harsh, united or discordant, +into one crushing chorus, like the choruses of +Haydn, or of heaven. Nature undergoes no +outward change to his <emph>eye</emph>, but undergoes a far +deeper transfiguration to his spirit—as she +stands up in the white robes, and with the +sounding psalmodies of her mediatorial office, +between him and the Infinite <hi rend='smallcaps'>i am</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Never must this feeling be confounded with +Pantheism. All does not seem to him to be +God, nor even (strictly speaking) divine; but +all seems to be immediately <emph>from</emph> God—rushing +out from him in being, to rush instantly back to +him in service and praise. Again the natal +dew of the first morning is seen lying on bud +and blade, and the low voice of the first evening's +song becomes audible again. Although +Coleridge in his youth was a Spinozist, Wordsworth +seems at once, and forever, to have recoiled +from even his friend's eloquent version +of that creedless creed, that baseless foundation, +that system, through the <emph>phenomenon</emph> of which +look not the bright eyes of Supreme Intelligence, +but the blind face of irresponsible and infinite +necessity. Shelley himself—with all the power +his critics attribute to him of painting night, +animating Atheism, and giving strange loveliness +to annihilation—has failed in redeeming +Spinoza's theory from the reproach of being as +hateful as it is false; and there is no axiom we +hold more strongly than this—that the theory +which can not be rendered poetical, can not be +true. <q>Beauty is truth, and truth is beauty,</q> +said poor Keats, to whom time, however, was +not granted to come down from the first glowing +generalization of his heart, to the particular +creeds which his ripened intellect would have, +according to <emph>it</emph>, rejected or received. +</p> + +<p> +Nor, although Wordsworth is a devoted lover +of Nature, down to what many consider the +very blots—or, at least, dashes and commas in +her page, is he blind to the fact of her transient +<pb n='580'/><anchor id='Pg580'/> +character. The power he worships has his +<q>dwelling in the light of setting suns,</q> but +that dwelling is not his everlasting abode. For +earth, and the universe, a <q><emph>milder day</emph></q> (words +certifying their truth by their simple beauty) is +in store when <q>the monuments</q> of human +weakness, folly, and evil, shall <q>all be over-grown.</q> +He sees afar off the great spectacle +of Nature retiring before God; the embassador +giving place to the King; the bright toys of +this nursery—sun, moon, earth, and stars—put +away, like childish things; the symbols of the +Infinite lost in the Infinite itself; and though he +could, on the Saturday evening, bow before the +midnight mountains, and midnight heavens, he +could also, on the Sabbath morn, in Rydal +church, bow as profoundly before the apostolic +word, <q>All these things shall be dissolved.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With Wordsworth, as with all great poets, +his poetical creed passes into his religious. It +is the same tune with variations. But we confess +that, in his case, we do not think the variations +equal. The mediation of Nature he understands, +and has beautifully represented in his +poetry; but that higher mediation of the Divine +Man between man and the Father, does not lie +fully or conspicuously on his page. A believer +in the mystery of godliness he unquestionably +was; but he seldom preached it. Christopher +North, many years ago, in <q>Blackwood,</q> +doubted if there were so much as a Bible in +poor Margaret's cottage (Excursion). We +doubt so, too, and have not found much of the +<q>true cross</q> among all his trees. The theologians +divide prayer into four parts—adoration, +thanksgiving, confession, and petition. Wordsworth +stops at the second. No where do +we find more solemn, sustained, habitual, and +worthy adoration, than in his writings. The +tone, too, of all his poems, is a calm thanksgiving, +like that of a long blue, cloudless sky, +coloring, at evening, into the hues of more fiery +praise. But he does not weep like a penitent, +nor supplicate like a child. Such feelings seem +suppressed and folded up as far-off storms, and +the traces of past tempests are succinctly inclosed +in the algebra of the silent evening air. And +hence, like Milton's, his poetry has rather tended +to foster the glow of devotion in the loftier +spirits of the race—previously taught to adore—than +like that of Cowper and Montgomery, to +send prodigals back to their forsaken homes; +Davids, to cry, <q>Against thee only have I +sinned;</q> and Peters, to shriek in agony, <q>Lord, +save us, we perish.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To pass from the essential poetic element in +a writer of genius, to his artistic skill, is a felt, +yet necessary descent—like the painter compelled, +after sketching the man's countenance, +to draw his dress. And yet, as of some men +and women, the very dress, by its simplicity, +elegance, and unity, seems fitted rather to garb +the soul than the body—seems the soul made +visible—so is it with the style and manner of +many great poets. Their speech and music +without are as inevitable as their genius, or as +the song forever sounding within their souls. +And why? The whole ever tends to beget a +whole—the large substance to cast its deep, yet +delicate shadow—the divine to be like itself in +the human, on which its seal is set. So it is +with Wordsworth. That profound simplicity—that +clear obscurity—that night-like noon—that +noon-like night—that one atmosphere of overhanging +Deity, seen weighing upon ocean and +pool, mountain and mole-hill, forest and flower—that +pellucid depth—that entireness of purpose +and fullness of power, connected with fragmentary, +willful, or even weak execution—that +humble, yet proud, precipitation of himself, +Antæus-like, upon the bosom of simple scenes +and simple sentiments, to regain primeval vigor—that +obscure, yet lofty isolation, like a tarn, +little in size, but elevated in site, with few visitors, +but with many stars—that Tory-Radicalism, +Popish-Protestantism, philosophical Christianity, +which have rendered him a glorious +riddle, and made Shelley, in despair of finding it +out, exclaim, +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>No Deist, and no Christian he,</q></l> +<l>No Whig, no Tory.</l> +<l>He got so subtle, that to be</l> +<l><q rend='post'><emph>Nothing</emph> was all his glory,</q>—</l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +all such apparent contradictions, but real unities, +in his poetical and moral creed and character, +are fully expressed in his lowly but aspiring +language, and the simple, elaborate architecture +of his verse—every stone of which is lifted up +by the strain of strong logic, and yet laid to +music; and, above all, in the choice of his subjects, +which range, with a free and easy motion, +up from a garden spade and a village drum, to +the <q>celestial visages</q> which darkened at the +tidings of man's fall, and to the <q>organ of eternity,</q> +which sung pæans over his recovery. +</p> + +<p> +We sum up what we have further to say of +Wordsworth, under the items of his works, his +life and character, his death; and shall close by +inquiring, Who is worthy to be his successor? +</p> + +<p> +His works, covering a large space, and +abounding in every variety of excellence and +style, assume, after all, a fragmentary aspect. +They are true, simple, scattered, and strong, as +blocks torn from the crags of Helvellyn, and +lying there <q>low, but mighty still.</q> Few even +of his ballads are wholes. They leave too +much untold. They are far too suggestive to +satisfy. From each poem, however rounded, +there streams off a long train of thought: like +the tail of a comet, which, while testifying its +power, mars its aspect of oneness. The <q>Excursion,</q> +avowedly a fragment, seems the splinter +of a larger splinter; like a piece of Pallas, +itself a piece of some split planet. Of all his +poems, perhaps, his sonnets, his <q>Laodamia,</q> +his <q>Intimations of Immortality,</q> and his verses +on the <q>Eclipse in Italy,</q> are the most complete +in execution, as certainly they are the +most classical in design. Dramatic power he +has none, nor does he regret the want. <q>I +hate,</q> he was wont to say to Hazlitt, <q>those +interlocutions between Caius and Lucius.</q> He +<pb n='581'/><anchor id='Pg008'/> +sees, as <q>from a tower, the end of all.</q> The +waving lights and shadows, the varied loopholes +of view, the shiftings and fluctuations of feeling, +the growing, broadening interest of the drama, +have no charm for him. His mind, from its +gigantic size, contracts a gigantic stiffness. It +<q>moveth altogether, if it move at all.</q> Hence, +some of his smaller poems remind you of the +dancing of an elephant, or of the <q>hills leaping +like lambs.</q> Many of the little poems which +he wrote upon a system, are exceedingly tame +and feeble. Yet often, even in his narrow bleak +vales, we find one <q>meek streamlet—only one</q>—beautifying +the desolation; and feel how +painful it is for him to become poor, and that, +when he sinks, it is with <q>compulsion and laborious +flight.</q> But, having subtracted such +faults, how much remains—of truth—of tenderness—of +sober, eve-like grandeur—of purged +beauties, white and clean as the lilies of Eden—of +calm, deep reflection, contained in lines +and sentences which have become proverbs—of +mild enthusiasm—of minute knowledge of +nature—of strong, yet unostentatious sympathy +with man—and of devout and breathless communion +with the Great Author of all! Apart +altogether from their intellectual pretensions +Wordsworth's poems possess a moral clearness, +beauty, transparency, and harmony, which connect +them immediately with those of Milton: +and beside the more popular poetry of the past +age—such as Byron's, and Moore's—they remind +us of that unplanted garden, where the +shadow of God united all trees of fruitfulness, +and all flowers of beauty, into one; where the +<q>large river,</q> which watered the whole, <q>ran +<pb n='582'/><anchor id='Pg582'/> +south,</q> toward the sun of heaven—when compared +with the gardens of the Hesperides, +where a dragon was the presiding deity, or +with those of Vauxhall or White Conduit-house, +where Comus and his rabble rout celebrate +their undisguised orgies of miscalled and miserable +pleasure. +</p> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p581.png' rend='width: 50%'> + <head>Wordsworth's Home at Rydal Mount.</head> + <figDesc>Illustration.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +To write a great poem demands years—to +write a great undying example, demands a lifetime. +Such a life, too, becomes a poem—higher +far than pen can inscribe, or metre make +musical. Such a life it was granted to Wordsworth +to live in severe harmony with his verse—as +it lowly, and as it aspiring, to live, too, +amid opposition, obloquy, and abuse—to live, +too, amid the glare of that watchful observation, +which has become to public men far more +keen and far more capacious in its powers and +opportunities, than in Milton's days. It was +not, unquestionably, a perfect life, even as a +man's, far less as a poet's. He did feel and +resent, more than beseemed a great man, the +pursuit and persecution of the hounds, whether +<q>gray</q> and swift-footed, or whether curs of +low degree, who dogged his steps. His voice +from his woods sounded at times rather like the +moan of wounded weakness, than the bellow +of masculine wrath. He should, simply, in reply +to his opponents, have written on at his +poems, and let his prefaces alone. <q>If they +receive your first book ill,</q> wrote Thomas Carlyle +to a new author, <q>write the second better—so +much better as to shame them.</q> When +will authors learn that to answer an unjust +attack, is, merely to give it a keener edge, and +that all injustice carries the seed of oblivion and +exposure in itself? To use the language of +the masculine spirit just quoted, <q>it is really a +truth, one never knows whether praise be really +good for one—or whether it be not, in very +fact, the worst poison that could be administered. +Blame, or even vituperation, I have +always found a safer article. In the long run, +a man <emph>has</emph>, and <emph>is</emph>, just what +he <emph>is</emph> and <emph>has</emph>—the +world's notion of him has not altered him at all, +except, indeed, if it have poisoned him with self-conceit, +and made a <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>caput mortuum</foreign> of him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The sensitiveness of authors—were it not +such a <emph>sore</emph> subject—might admit of some +curious reflections. One would sometimes fancy +that Apollo, in an angry hour, had done to his +sons, what fable records him to have done +to Marsyas—<emph>flayed</emph> them alive. Nothing has +brought more contempt upon authors than this—implying, +as it does, a lack of common courage +and manhood. The true son of genius +ought to rush before the public as the warrior +into battle, resolved to hack and hew his way to +eminence and power, not to whimper like a +schoolboy at every scratch—to acknowledge +only home thrusts—large, life-letting-out blows—determined +either to conquer or to die, and, +feeling that battles should be lost in the same +spirit in which they are won. If Wordsworth +did not fully answer this ideal, others have sunk +far more disgracefully and habitually below it. +</p> + +<p> +In private, Wordsworth, we understand, was +pure, mild, simple, and majestic—perhaps somewhat +austere in his judgments of the erring, +and, perhaps, somewhat narrow in his own +economics. In accordance, we suppose, with +that part of his poetic system, which magnified +mole-heaps to mountains, <emph>pennies</emph> assumed the +importance of <emph>pounds</emph>. It is ludicrous, yet +characteristic, to think of the great author of the +<q>Recluse,</q> squabbling with a porter about the +price of a parcel, or bidding down an old book +at a stall. He was one of the few poets who +were ever guilty of the crime of worldly prudence—that +ever could have fulfilled the old +parodox, <q>A poet has built a house.</q> In his +young days, according to Hazlitt, he said little +in society—sat generally lost in thought—threw +out a bold or an indifferent remark occasionally—and +relapsed into reverie again. In +latter years, he became more talkative and +oracular. His health and habits were always +regular, his temperament happy, and his heart +sound and pure. +</p> + +<p> +We have said that his life, <emph>as a poet</emph>, was far +from perfect. Our meaning is, that he did not +sufficiently, owing to temperament, or position, +or habits, sympathize with the on-goings of +society, the fullness of modern life, and the +varied passions, unbeliefs, sins, and miseries of +modern human nature. His soul dwelt apart. +He came, like the Baptist, <q>neither eating nor +drinking,</q> and men said, <q>he hath a demon.</q> +He saw at morning, from London bridge, <q>all +its mighty heart</q> lying still; but he did not at +noon plunge artistically into the thick of its +throbbing life; far less sound the depths of its +wild midnight heavings of revel and wretchedness, +of hopes and fears, of stifled fury and +eloquent despair. Nor, although he sung the +<q>mighty stream of tendency</q> of this wondrous +age, did he ever launch his poetic craft upon it, +nor seem to see the <emph>witherward</emph> of its swift and +awful stress. He has, on the whole, stood +aside from his time—not on a peak of the past—not +on an anticipated Alp of the future, but +on his own Cumberland highlands—hearing the +tumult and remaining still, lifting up his life as +a far-seen beacon-fire, studying the manners of +the humble dwellers in the vales below—<q>piping +a simple song to thinking hearts,</q> and +striving to waft to brother spirits, the fine infection +of his own enthusiasm, faith, hope, and +devotion. Perhaps, had he been less strict and +consistent in creed and in character, he might +have attained greater breadth, blood-warmth, and +wide-spread power, have presented on his page +a fuller reflection of our present state, and +drawn from his poetry a yet stronger moral, and +become the Shakspeare, instead of the Milton, +of the age. For himself, he did undoubtedly +choose the <q>better part;</q> nor do we mean to +insinuate that any man ought to contaminate +himself for the sake of his art, but that the poet +of a period will necessarily come so near to its +peculiar sins, sufferings, follies, and mistakes, +as to understand them, and even to feel the +<pb n='583'/><anchor id='Pg583'/> +force of their temptations, and though he should +never yield to, yet must have a <q>fellow-feeling</q> +of its prevailing infirmities. +</p> + +<p> +The death of this eminent man took few by +surprise. Many anxious eyes have for a while +been turned toward Rydal mount, where this +hermit stream was nearly sinking into the ocean +of the Infinite. And now, to use his own grand +word, used at the death of Scott, a <q>trouble</q> +hangs upon Helvellyn's brow, and over the +waters of Windermere. The last of the Lakers +has departed. That glorious country has become +a tomb for its more glorious children. +No more is Southey's tall form seen at his library +window, confronting Skiddaw—with a port as +stately as its own. No more does Coleridge's +dim eye look down into the dim tarn, heavy laden, +too, under the advancing thunder-storm. And +no more is Wordsworth's pale and lofty front +shaded into divine twilight, as he plunges at +noon-day amidst the quiet woods. A stiller, +sterner power than poetry has folded into its +strict, yet tender and yearning embrace, those +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>Serene creators of immortal things.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Alas! for the pride and the glory even of the +purest products of this strange world! Sin and +science, pleasure and poetry, the lowest vices, +and the highest aspirations, are equally unable +to rescue their votaries from the swift ruin +which is in chase of us all. +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>Golden lads and girls all must</q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>Like chimney-sweepers come to dust.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +But Wordsworth has left for himself an epitaph +almost superfluously rich—in the memory of his +private virtues—of the impulse he gave to our +declining poetry—of the sympathies he discovered +in all his strains with the poor, the neglected, +and the despised—of the version he furnished +of Nature, true and beautiful as if it +were Nature <emph>describing herself</emph>—of his lofty and +enacted ideal of his art and the artist—of the +<q>thoughts, too deep for tears,</q> he has given to +meditative and lonely hearts—and, above all, of +the support he has lent to the cause of the +<q>primal duties</q> and eldest instincts of man—to +his hope of immortality, and his fear of God. +And now we bid him farewell, in his own +words— +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>Blessings be with him, and eternal praise,</q></l> +<l>The <emph>poet</emph>, who on earth has made us heirs</l> +<l><q rend='post'>Of truth and pure delight, by heavenly lays.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +Although, as already remarked, not the poet of +the age—it has, in our view, been, on the +whole, fortunate for poetry and society, that for +seven years William Wordsworth has been +poet-laureate. We live in a transition state in +respect to both. The march and the music are +both changing—nor are they yet fully attuned +to each other—and, meanwhile, it was desirable +that a poet should preside, whose strains formed +a fine <q>musical confusion,</q> like that of old in +the <q>wood of Crete</q>—of the old and the new—of +the Conservative and the Democratic—of +the golden age, supposed by many to have existed +in the past, and of the millennium, expected +by more in the future—a compromise of the +two poetical styles besides—the one, which +clung to the hoary tradition of the elders, and +the other, which accepted innovation because it +was new, and boldness because it was daring, +and mysticism because it was dark—not truth, +<emph>though</emph> new; beauty, <emph>though</emph> bold; and insight, +<emph>though</emph> shadowy and shy. Nay, we heartily +wish, had it been for nothing else than this, that +his reign had lasted for many years longer, till, +perchance, the discordant elements in our creeds +and literature, had been somewhat harmonized. +As it is, there must now be great difficulty +in choosing his successor to the laureateship; +nor is there, we think, a single name in our +poetry whose elevation to the office would give +universal, or even general, satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Milman is a fine poet, but not a great one. +Croly is, or ought to have been, a great poet; +but is not sufficiently known, nor <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>en rapport</foreign> +with the spirit of the time. Bowles is dead—Moore +dying. Lockhart and Macaulay have +written clever ballads; but no shapely, continuous, +and masterly poem. John Wilson, <foreign rend='italic'>alias</foreign> +Christopher North, has more poetry in his eye, +brow, head, hair, figure, voice, talk, and the +prose of his <q>Noetes,</q> than any man living; +but his verse, on the whole, is mawkish—and +his being a Scotchman will be a stumbling-block +to many, though not to us; for, had +Campbell been alive, we should have said at +once, let him be laureate—if manly grace, classic +power, and genuine popularity, form qualifications +for the office. Tennyson, considering +all he has done, has received his full meed +already. Let him and Leigh Hunt repose under +the shadow of their pensions. Our gifted +friends, Bailey, of <q>Festus,</q> and Yendys, of the +<q>Roman,</q> are yet in blossom—though it is a +glorious blossom. Henry Taylor is rather in +the sere and yellow leaf—nor was his leaf ever, +in our judgment, very fresh or ample: a masterly +builder he is, certainly, but the materials +he brings are not highly poetical. When Dickens +is promoted to Scott's wizard throne, let +Browning succeed Wordsworth on the forked +Helvellyn! Landor is a vast monumental +name; but, while he has overawed the higher +intellects of the time, he has never touched the +general heart, nor <emph>told</emph> the world much, except +his great opinion of himself, the low opinion he +has of almost every body else, and the very +learned reasons and sufficient grounds he has +for supporting those twin opinions. Never was +such power so wasted and thrown away. The +proposition of a lady laureate is simply absurd, +without being witty. Why not as soon have +proposed the Infant Sappho? In short, if we +ask again, <emph>Where</emph> is the poet worthy to wear +the crown which has dropped from the solemn +brow of <q>old Pan,</q> <q>sole king of rocky +Cumberland?</q>—Echo, from Glaramara, or +the Langdale Pikes, might well answer, +<q>Where?</q> +</p> + +<pb n='584'/><anchor id='Pg584'/> + +<p> +We have, however, a notion of our own, +which we mean, as a close to the article, to +indicate. The laureateship was too long a sop +for parasites, whose politics and poetry were +equally tame. It seems now to have become +the late reward of veteran merit—the Popedom +of poetry. Why not, rather, hang it up as a +crown, to be won by our rising bards—either +as the reward of some special poem on an +appointed subject, or of general merit? Why +not delay for a season the bestowal of the +laurel, and give thus a national importance to +its decision? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Sidney Smith. By George Gilfillan.</head> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p584.png' rend='width: 50%'> + <head>Sidney Smith.</head> + <figDesc>Illustration.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +It is melancholy to observe how speedily, successively, +nay, almost simultaneously, our +literary luminaries are disappearing from the +sky. Every year another and another member +of the bright clusters which arose about the +close of the last, or at the beginning of this +century, is fading from our view. Within nineteen +years, what havoc, by the <q>insatiate archer,</q> +among the ruling spirits of the time! Since +1831, Robert Hall, Andrew Thomson, Goethe, +Cuvier, Mackintosh, Crabbe, Foster, Coleridge, +Edward Irving, Sir Walter Scott, Charles Lamb, +Southey, Thomas Campbell, &c., have entered +on the <q>silent land;</q> and latterly has dropped +down one of the wittiest and shrewdest of them +all—the projector of the <q>Edinburgh Review</q>—the +author of <q>Peter Plymley's Letters</q>—the +preacher—the politician—the brilliant converser—the +<q>mad-wag</q>—Sidney Smith. +</p> + +<p> +It was the praise of Dryden that he was the +best reasoner in verse who ever wrote; let it +be the encomium of our departed Sidney that, +he was one of the best reasoners in wit of whom +our country can boast. His intellect—strong, +sharp, clear, and decided—wrought and moved +in a rich medium of humor. Each thought, as +it came forth from his brain, issued as <q>in dance,</q> +and amid a flood of inextinguishable laughter. +The march of his mind through his subject +resembled the procession of Bacchus from the +conquest of India—joyous, splendid, straggling—to +the sound of flutes and hautboys—rather a +victory than a march—rather a revel than a +contest. His logic seemed always hurrying +into the arms of his wit. Some men argue in +mathematical formulæ; others, like Burke, in +the figures and flights of poetry; others in the +fire and fury of passion; Sidney Smith in exuberant +and riotous fun. And yet the matter of +his reasoning was solid, and its inner spirit earnest +and true. But though his steel was strong +and sharp, his hand steady, and his aim clear, +the management of the motions of his weapon +was always fantastic. He piled, indeed, like a +Titan, his Pelion on Ossa, but at the oddest of +angles; he lifted and carried his load bravely, +and like a man, but laughed as he did so; and +so carried it that beholders forgot the strength +of the arm in the strangeness of the attitude. +He thus sometimes disarmed anger; for his +adversaries could scarcely believe that they had +received a deadly wound while their foe was +roaring in their face. He thus did far greater +execution; for the flourishes of his weapon might +distract his opponents, but never himself, from +the direct and terrible line of the blow. His +laughter sometimes stunned, like the cachination +of the Cyclops, shaking the sides of his cave. +In this mood—and it was his common one—what +scorn was he wont to pour upon the opponents +of Catholic emancipation—upon the enemies +of all change in legislation—upon any +individual or party who sought to obstruct +measures which, in his judgment, were likely +to benefit the country. Under such, he could +at any moment spring a mine of laughter; and +what neither the fierce invective of Brougham, +nor the light and subtle raillery of Jeffrey could +do, his contemptuous explosion effected, and, +himself crying with mirth, saw them hoisted +toward heaven in ten thousand comical splinters. +Comparing him with other humorists of a similar +class, we might say, that while Swift's ridicule +resembles something between a sneer and +a spasm (half a sneer of mirth, half a spasm +of misery)—while Cobbett's is a grin—Fonblanque's +a light but deep and most significant +smile—Jeffrey's a sneer, just perceptible on his +fastidious lip—Wilson's a strong, healthy, hearty +laugh—Carlyle's a wild unearthly sound, like +the neighing of a homeless steed—Sidney Smith's +is a genuine guffaw, given forth with his whole +heart, and soul, and mind, and strength. Apart +from his matchless humor, strong, rough, instinctive, +and knotty sense was the leading feature of +his mind. Every thing like mystification, sophistry, +and humbug, fled before the first glance +of his piercing eye; every thing in the shape of +affectation excited in him a disgust <q>as implacable</q> +as even a Cowper could feel. If possible, +<pb n='585'/><anchor id='Pg585'/> +with still deeper aversion did his manly nature +regard cant in its various forms and disguises; +and his motto in reference to it was, <q>spare no +arrows.</q> But the mean, the low, the paltry, +the dishonorable, in nations or in individuals, +moved all the fountains of his bile, and awakened +all the energy of his invective. Always +lively, generally witty, he is never eloquent, +except when emptying out his vials of indignation +upon baseness in all its shapes. His is the +ire of a genuine <q>English gentleman, all of the +olden time.</q> It was in this spirit that he recently +explained, in his own way, the old distinctions +of Meum and Tuum to Brother Jonathan, +when the latter was lamentably inclined to forget +them. It was the same sting of generous +indignation which, in the midst of his character +of Mackintosh, prompted the memorable picture +of that extraordinary being who, by his transcendent +talents and his tortuous movements—his +head of gold, and his feet of miry clay—has +become the glory, the riddle, and the regret +of his country, his age, and his species. +</p> + +<p> +As a writer, Smith is little more than a very +clever, witty, and ingenious pamphleteer. He +has effected no permanent <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>chef d'oeuvre</foreign>; he has +founded no school; he has left little behind him +that the <q>world will not willingly let die;</q> he +has never drawn a tear from a human eye, nor +excited a thrill of grandeur in a human bosom. +His reviews are not preserved by the salt of +original genius, nor are they pregnant with +profound and comprehensive principle; they have +no resemblance to the sibylline leaves which +Burke tore out from the vast volume of his mind, +and scattered with imperial indifference among +the nations; they are not the illuminated indices +of universal history, like the papers of Macaulay; +they are not specimens of pure and perfect English, +set with modest but magnificent ornaments, +like the criticism of Jeffrey or of Hall; nor are +they the excerpts, rugged and rent away by +violence, from the dark and iron tablet of an +obscure and original mind, like the reviews of +Foster; but they are exquisite <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>jeux d'esprit</foreign>, +admirable occasional pamphlets, which, though +now they look to us like spent arrows, yet +assuredly have done execution, and have not +been spent in vain. And as, after the lapse of +a century and more, we can still read with +pleasure Addison's <q>Old Whig and Freeholder,</q> +for the sake of the exquisite humor and inimitable +style in which forgotten feuds and dead +logomachies are embalmed, so may it be, a century +still, with the articles on Bentham's Fallacies +and on the Game Laws, and with the letters +of the witty and ingenious Peter Plymley. There +is much at least in those singular productions—in +their clear and manly sense—in their broad +native fun—in their rapid, careless, energetic +style—and in their bold, honest, liberal, and thoroughly +English spirit—to interest several succeeding +generations, if not to secure the <q>rare +and regal</q> palm of immortality. +</p> + +<p> +Sidney Smith was a writer of sermons as well +as of political squibs. Is not their memory +eternized in one of John Foster's most ponderous +pieces of sarcasm? In an evil hour the +dexterous and witty critic came forth from behind +the fastnesses of the Edinburgh Review, +whence, in perfect security he had shot his +quick glancing shafts at Methodists and Missions, +at Christian Observers and Eclectic Reviews, +at Owens and Styles, and (what the more +wary Jeffrey, in the day of his power, always +avoided) became himself an author, and, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>mirabile +dictu</foreign>, an author of sermons. It was as if +he wished to give his opponents their revenge, +and no sooner did his head peep forth from beneath +the protection of its shell than the elephantine +foot of Foster was prepared to crush it in +the dust. It was the precise position of Saladin +with the Knight of the Leopard, in their memorable +contest near the Diamond of the Desert. +In the skirmish Smith had it all his own way; +but when it came to close quarters, and when +the heavy and mailed hand of the sturdy Baptist +had confirmed its grasp on his opponent, +the disparity was prodigious, and the discomfiture +of the light horseman complete. But +why recall the memory of an obsolete quarrel +and a forgotten field? The sermons—the +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>causa belli</foreign>—clever but dry, destitute of +earnestness and unction—are long since dead and +buried; and their review remains their only +monument. +</p> + +<p> +Even when, within his own stronghold, our +author intermeddled with theological topics, it +was seldom with felicity or credit to himself. +His onset on missions was a sad mistake; and +in attacking the Methodists, and poor, pompous +John Styles, he becomes as filthy and foul-mouthed +as Swift himself. His wit forsakes +him, and a rabid invective ill supplies its place; +instead of laughing, he raves and foams at the +mouth. Indeed, although an eloquent and popular +preacher, and in many respects an ornament +to his cloth, there was one radical evil +about Smith; <emph>he had mistaken his profession</emph>. +He was intended for a barrister, or a literary +man, or a member of parliament, or some occupation +into which he could have flung his whole +soul and strength. As it was, but half his heart +was in a profession which, of all others, would +require the whole. He became consequently a +rather awkward medley of buffoon, politician, +preacher, literateur, divine, and diner-out. Let +us grant, however, that the ordeal was severe, +and that, if a very few have weathered it better, +many more have ignominiously broken down. +No one coincides more fully than we do with +Coleridge in thinking that every literary man +should have a profession; but in the name of +common sense let it be one fitted for him, and +for which he is fitted—one suited to his tastes +as well as to his talents—to his habits as well +as to his powers—to his heart as well as to his +head. +</p> + +<p> +As a conversationist, Sidney Smith stood high +among the highest—a Saul among a tribe of +Titans. His jokes were not rare and refined, +like those of Rogers and Jekyll; they wanted +<pb n='586'/><anchor id='Pg586'/> +the slyness of Theodore Hook's inimitable equivoque; +they were not poured forth with the +prodigal profusion of Hood's breathless and +bickering puns; they were rich, fat, unctuous, +always bordering on farce, but always avoiding +it by a hair's-breadth. No finer cream, certes, +ever mantled at the feasts of Holland House +than his fertile brain supplied; and, to quote +himself, it would require a <q>forty-parson power</q> +of lungs and language to do justice to his convivial +merits. An acquaintance of ours sometimes +met him in the company of Jeffrey and +Macaulay—a fine concord of first-rate performers, +content, generally, to keep each within his +own part, except when, now and then, the +author of the <q>Lays</q> burst out irresistibly, and +changed the concert into a fine solo. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether <q>we could have better spared a +better man.</q> Did not his death <q>eclipse the +gayety of nations?</q> Did not a Fourth Estate +of Fun expire from the midst of us? Did not +even Brother Jonathan drop a tear when he +thought that the scourge that so mercilessly +lashed him was broken? And shall not now +all his admirers unite with us in inscribing upon +his grave—<q>Alas! poor Yorick!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Thomas Carlyle. By George Gilfillan.</head> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p586.png' rend='width: 50%'> + <head>Thomas Carlyle.</head> + <figDesc>Illustration.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +Thomas Carlyle was born at Ecclefechan, +Annandale. His parents were <q>good +farmer people,</q> his father an elder in the Secession +church there, and a man of strong native +sense, whose words were said to <q>nail a subject +to the wall.</q> His excellent mother still lives, +and we had the pleasure of meeting her lately +in the company of her illustrious son; and beautiful +it was to see his profound and tender regard, +and her motherly and yearning reverence—to +hear her fine old covenanting accents, concerting +with his transcendental tones. He studied +in Edinburgh. Previous to this, he had become +intimate with Edward Irving, an intimacy which +continued unimpaired to the close of the latter's +eccentric career. Like most Scottish students, +he had many struggles to encounter in the course +of his education; and had, we believe, to support +himself by private tuition, translations for +the booksellers, &c. The day star of German +literature arose early in his soul, and has been +his guide and genius ever since. He entered +into a correspondence with Goethe, which lasted, +at intervals, till the latter's death. Yet he has +never, we understand, visited Germany. He +was, originally, destined for the church. At +one period he taught an academy in Dysart, at +the same time that Irving was teaching in Kirkaldy. +After his marriage, he resided partly at +Comely Bank, Edinburgh; and, for a year or +two in Craigenputtock, a wild and solitary +farm-house in the upper part of Dumfriesshire. +Here, however, far from society, save that, of +the <q>great dumb monsters of mountains,</q> he +wearied out his very heart. A ludicrous story +is told of Lord Jeffrey visiting him in this out-of-the-way +region, when they were unapprized +of his coming—had nothing in the house fit for +the palate of the critic, and had, in dire haste +and pother, to send off for the wherewithal to +a market town about fifteen miles off. Here, +<pb n='587'/><anchor id='Pg587'/> +too, as we may see hereafter, Emerson, on his +way home from Italy, dropped in like a spirit, +spent precisely twenty-four hours, and then +<q>forth uprose that lone, wayfaring man,</q> to return +to his native woods. He has, for several +years of late, resided in Chelsea, London, where +he lives in a plain, simple fashion; occasionally, +but seldom, appearing at the splendid soirées of +Lady Blessington, but listened to, when he goes, +as an oracle; receiving, at his tea-table, visitors +from every part of the world; forming an amicable +centre for men of the most opposite opinions +and professions, Poets and Preachers, Pantheists +and Puritans, Tennysons and Scotts, +Cavanaighs and Erskines, Sterlings and Robertsons, +smoking his perpetual pipe, and pouring +out, in copious stream, his rich and quaint philosophy. +His appearance is fine, without being +ostentatiously singular—his hair dark—his brow +marked, though neither very broad nor very +lofty—his cheek tinged with a healthy red—his +eye, the truest index of his genius, flashing out, +at times, a wild and mystic fire from its dark +and quiet surface. He is above the middle size, +stoops slightly, dresses carefully, but without +any approach to foppery. His address, somewhat +high and distant at first, softens into simplicity +and cordial kindness. His conversation +is abundant, inartificial, flowing on, and warbling +as it flows, more practical than you would +expect from the cast of his writings—picturesque +and graphic in a high measure—full of the results +of extensive and minute observation—often +terribly direct and strong, garnished with French +and German phrase, rendered racy by the accompaniment +of the purest Annandale accent, +and coming to its climaxes, ever and anon, in +long, deep, chest-shaking bursts of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Altogether, in an age of singularities, Thomas +Carlyle stands peculiarly alone. Generally known, +and warmly appreciated, he has of late become—popular, +in the strict sense, he is not, and may +never be. His works may never climb the family +library, nor his name become a household word; +but while the Thomsons and the Campbells shed +their gentle genius, like light, into the hall and +the hovel—the shop of the artisan and the sheiling +of the shepherd, Carlyle, like the Landors +and Lambs of this age, and the Brownes and +Burtons of a past, will exert a more limited but +profounder power—cast a dimmer but more +gorgeous radiance—attract fewer but more devoted +admirers, and obtain an equal, and perhaps +more enviable immortality. +</p> + +<p> +To the foregoing sketch of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Carlyle</hi>, which is +from the eloquent critical description of Gilfillan, +we append the following, which is from a letter +recently published in the Dumfries and Galloway +Courier. The writer, after remarking at some +length upon the <q>Latter Day Pamphlets,</q> which +are Carlyle's latest productions, proceeds to give +this graphic and interesting sketch of his personal +appearance and conversation: +</p> + +<p> +<q>Passing from the political phase of these +productions (the <q>Latter Day Pamphlets</q>), which +is not my vocation to discuss, I found for myself +one very peculiar charm in the perusal of +them—they seemed such perfect transcripts of +the conversation of Thomas Carlyle. With +something more of set continuity—of composition—but +essentially the same thing, the Latter +Day Pamphlets' are in their own way a +<q>Boswell's Life</q> of Carlyle. As I read and +read, I was gradually transported from my club-room, +with its newspaper-clad tables, and my +dozing fellow-loungers, only kept half awake by +periodical titillations of snuff, and carried in +spirit to the grave and quiet sanctum in Chelsea, +where Carlyle dispenses wisdom and hospitality +with equally unstinted hand. The long, tall, +spare figure is before me—wiry, though, and +elastic, and quite capable of taking a long, +tough spell through the moors of Ecclefechan, +or elsewhere—stretched at careless, homely +ease in his elbow-chair, yet ever with strong +natural motions and starts, as the inward spirit +stirs. The face, too, is before me—long and +thin, with a certain tinge of paleness, but no +sickness or attenuation, form muscular and vigorously +marked, and not wanting some glow of +former rustic color—pensive, almost solemn, yet +open, and cordial, and tender, very tender. The +eye, as generally happens, is the chief outward +index of the soul—an eye is not easy to describe, +but <emph>felt</emph> ever after one has looked thereon and +therein. It is dark and full, shadowed over by +a compact, prominent forehead. But the depth, +the expression, the far inner play of it—who +could transfer that even to the eloquent canvas, +far less to this very <emph>in</emph>-eloquent paper? It is +not brightness, it is not flash, it is not power +even—something beyond all these. The expression +is, so to speak, heavy laden—as if be-tokening +untold burdens of thought, and long, +long fiery struggles, resolutely endured—endured +until they had been in some practical +manner overcome; to adopt his own fond epithet, +and it comes nearest to the thing, his is the +heroic eye, but of a hero who has done hard +battle against Paynim hosts. This is no dream +of mine—I have often heard this peculiarity +remarked. The whole form and expression +of the face remind me of Dante—it wants the +classic element, and the mature and matchless +harmony which distinguish the countenance +of the great Florentine; but something in the +cast and in the look, especially the heavy laden, +but dauntless eye, is very much alike. But he +speaks to me. The tongue has the <emph>sough</emph> of +Annandale—an echo of the Solway, with its compliments +to old Father Thames. A keen, sharp, +ringing voice, in the genuine Border key, but +tranquil and sedate withal—neighborly and +frank, and always in unison with what is uttered. +Thus does the presence of Thomas Carlyle +rise before me—a <q>true man</q> in all his +bearings and in all his sayings. And in this +same guise do I seem to hear from him all those +<q>Latter Day Pamphlets.</q> Even such in his +conversation—he sees the very thing he speaks +of; it breathes and moves palpable to him, and +hence his words form a picture. When you +<pb n='588'/><anchor id='Pg588'/> +come from him, the impression is like having +seen a great brilliant panorama; every thing +had been made visible and naked to your sight. +But more and better far than that; you bear +home with you an indelible feeling of love for +the man—deep at the heart, long as life. No +man has ever inspired more of this personal +affection. Not to love Carlyle when you know +him is something unnatural, as if one should say +they did not love the breeze that fans their +cheek, or the vine-tree which has refreshed them +both with its leafy shade and its exuberant +juices. He abounds, himself, in love and in +good works. His life, not only as a <q>writer of +books,</q> but as a man among his fellows, has +been a continued shower of benefits. The young +men, more especially, to whom he has been the +good Samaritan, pouring oil upon their wounds, +and binding up their bruised limbs, and putting +them on the way of recovery of health and useful +energy—the number of such can scarcely +be told, and will never be known till the great +day of accounts. One of these, who in his orisons +will ever remember him, has just read to +me, with tears of grateful attachment in his +eyes, portions of a letter of counsel and encouragement +which he received from him in +the hour of darkness, and which was but the +prelude to a thousand acts of substantial kindness +and of graceful attention. As the letter +contains no secret, and may fall as a fructifying +seed into some youthful bosom that may be entering +upon its trials and struggles, a quotation +from it will form an appropriate <foreign rend='italic'>finale</foreign> at this +time. He thus writes: <q>It will be good news, +in all times coming, to learn that such a life as +yours unfolds itself according to its promise, +and <emph>becomes</emph> in some tolerable degree what it is +capable of being. The problem is your own, to +make or to mar—a great problem for you, as +the like is for every man born into this world. +You have my entire sympathy in your denunciation +of the <q>explosive</q> character. It is frequent +in these times, and deplorable wherever +met with. Explosions are ever wasteful, woeful; +central fire should not explode itself, but +lie silent, far down at the centre; and make all +good fruits <emph>grow</emph>! We can not too often repeat +to ourselves, <q>Strength is seen, not in spasms, +but in stout bearing of burdens.</q> You can take +comfort in the meanwhile, if you need it, by the +experience of all wise men, that a right heavy +burden is precisely the thing wanted for a young +strong man. Grievous to be borne; but bear +it well, you will find it one day to have been +verily blessed. <q>I would not, for any money,</q> +says the brave Jean Paul, in his quaint way. +<q>I would not, for any money, have had money +in my youth!</q> He speaks a truth there, singular +as it may seem to many. These young +obscure years ought to be incessantly employed +in gaining knowledge of things worth knowing, +especially of heroic human souls worth knowing. +And you may believe me, the obscurer such +years are, it is apt to be the better. Books are +needful; but yet not many books; a few well +read. An open, true, patient, and valiant soul +is needed; that is the one thing needful.</q></q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Gentleman Beggar. An Attorney's Story. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +One morning, about five years ago, I called +by appointment on Mr. John Balance, the +fashionable pawnbroker, to accompany him to +Liverpool, in pursuit for a Levanting customer—for +Balance, in addition to pawning, does +a little business in the sixty per cent. line. It +rained in torrents when the cab stopped at the +passage which leads past the pawning boxes to +his private door. The cabman rang twice, and +at length Balance appeared, looming through +the mist and rain in the entry, illuminated by +his perpetual cigar. As I eyed him rather impatiently, +remembering that trains wait for no +man, something like a hairy dog, or a bundle +of rags, rose up at his feet, and barred his passage +for a moment. Then Balance cried out +with an exclamation, in answer apparently to a +something I could not hear, <q>What, man alive!—slept +in the passage!—there, take that, and +get some breakfast, for Heaven's sake!</q> So +saying, he jumped into the <q>Hansom,</q> and we +bowled away at ten miles an hour, just catching +the Express as the doors of the station were +closing. My curiosity was full set—for although +Balance can be free with his money, it is not +exactly to beggars that his generosity is usually +displayed; so when comfortably ensconced in a +<foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>coupé</foreign>, I finished with— +</p> + +<p> +<q>You are liberal with your money this morning: +pray, how often do you give silver to street +cadgers?—because I shall know now what walk +to take when flats and sharps leave off buying +law.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Balance, who would have made an excellent +parson if he had not been bred to a case-hardening +trade, and has still a soft bit left in his heart +that is always fighting with his hard head, did +not smile at all, but looked as grim as if squeezing +a lemon into his Saturday night's punch. +He answered slowly, <q>A cadger—yes; a beggar—a +miserable wretch, he is now; but let me +tell you, Master David, that that miserable bundle +of rags was born and bred a gentleman; the +son of a nobleman, the husband of an heiress, +and has sat and dined at tables where you and +I, Master David, are only allowed to view the +plate by favor of the butler. I have lent him +thousands, and been well paid. The last thing +I had from him was his court suit; and I hold +now his bill for one hundred pounds that will be +paid, I expect, when he dies.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, what nonsense you are talking! you +must be dreaming this morning. However, we +are alone, I'll light a weed, in defiance of Railway +law, you shall spin that yarn; for, true +or untrue, it will fill up the time to Liverpool.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>As for yarn,</q> replied Balance, <q>the whole +story is short enough; and as for truth, that you +<pb n='589'/><anchor id='Pg589'/> +may easily find out if you like to take the trouble. +I thought the poor wretch was dead, and I own +it put me out meeting him this morning, for I +had a curious dream last night.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, hang your dreams! Tell us about this +gentleman beggar that bleeds you of half-crowns—that +melts the heart even of a pawnbroker!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>Well, then, that beggar is the illegitimate +son of the late Marquis of Hoopborough by a +Spanish lady of rank. He received a first-rate +education, and was brought up in his father's +house. At a very early age he obtained an +appointment in a public office, was presented +by the marquis at court, and received into the +first society, where his handsome person and +agreeable manners made him a great favorite. +Soon after coming of age, he married the +daughter of Sir E. Bumper, who brought him a +very handsome fortune, which was strictly settled +on herself. They lived in splendid style, kept +several carriages, a house in town, and a place +in the country. For some reason or other, +idleness, or to please his lady's pride, he resigned +his appointment. His father died and +left him nothing; indeed, he seemed at that +time very handsomely provided for.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>Very soon Mr. and Mrs. Molinos Fitz-Roy +began to disagree. She was cold, correct—he +was hot and random. He was quite dependent +on her, and she made him feel it. When he +began to get into debt, he came to me. At +length some shocking quarrel occurred; some +case of jealousy on the wife's side, not without +reason, I believe; and the end of it was, Mr. +Fitz-Roy was turned out of doors. The house +was his wife's, the furniture was his wife's, +and the fortune was his wife's—he was, in fact, +her pensioner. He left with a few hundred +pounds ready money, and some personal jewelry, +and went to an hotel. On these and credit he +lived. Being illegitimate, he had no relations; +being a fool, when he spent his money he lost +his friends. The world took his wife's part, +when they found she had the fortune, and the +only parties who interfered were her relatives, +who did their best to make the quarrel incurable. +To crown all, one night he was run over +by a cab, was carried to a hospital, and lay there +for months, and was during several weeks of +the time unconscious. A message to the wife, +by the hands of one of his debauched companions, +sent by a humane surgeon, obtained an +intimation that <q>if he died, Mr. Croak, the undertaker +to the family, had orders to see to the +funeral,</q> and that Mrs. Molinos was on the point +of starting for the Continent, not to return for +some years. When Fitz-Roy was discharged, +he came to me limping on two sticks, to pawn +his court suit, and told me his story. I was +really sorry for the fellow, such a handsome, +thoroughbred-looking man. He was going then +into the west somewhere, to try to hunt out a +friend. <q>What to do, Balance,</q> he said, <q>I don't +know. I can't dig, and unless somebody will +make me their gamekeeper, I must starve, or +beg, as my Jezebel bade me when we parted!</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I lost sight of Molinos for a long time, and +when I next came upon him it was in the Rookery +of Westminster, in a low lodging-house, +where I was searching with an officer for stolen +goods. He was pointed out to me as the <q>gentleman +cadger,</q> because he was so free with his +money when <q>in luck.</q> He recognized me, but +turned away then. I have since seen him, and +relieved him more than once, although he never +asks for any thing. How he lives, Heaven +knows. Without money, without friends, without +useful education of any kind, he tramps the +country, as you saw him, perhaps doing a little +hop-picking or hay-making, in season, only happy +when he obtains the means to get drunk. I +have heard through the kitchen whispers, that +you know come to me, that he is entitled to +some property; and I expect if he were to die +his wife would pay the hundred pound bill I +hold; at any rate, what I have told you I know +to be true, and the bundle of rags I relieved +just now is known in every thieves' lodging in +England as the <q>gentleman cadger.</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +This story produced an impression on me—I +am fond of speculation, and like the excitement +of a legal hunt as much as some do a fox-chase: +A gentleman a beggar, a wife rolling in wealth, +rumors of unknown property due to the husband: +it seemed as if there were pickings for +me amidst this carrion of pauperism. +</p> + +<p> +Before returning from Liverpool, I had purchased +the gentleman beggar's acceptance from +Balance. I then inserted in the <q>Times</q> the +following advertisement: <q><hi rend='italic'>Horatio Molinos Fitz-Roy</hi>.—If +this gentleman will apply to David Discount, +Esq., Solicitor, St. James's, he will hear +of something to his advantage. Any person +furnishing Mr. F.'s correct address, shall receive +1£. 1<hi rend='italic'>s.</hi> reward. He was last seen,</q> &c. Within +twenty-four hours I had ample proof of the +wide circulation of the <q>Times.</q> My office +was besieged with beggars of every degree, +men and women, lame and blind, Irish, Scotch, +and English, some on crutches, some in bowls, +some in go-carts. They all knew him as the +<q>gentleman,</q> and I must do the regular fraternity +of tramps the justice to say, that not one +would answer a question until he made certain +that I meant the <q>gentleman</q> no harm. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, about three weeks after the +appearance of the advertisement, my clerk announced +<q>another beggar.</q> There came in +an old man leaning upon a staff, clad in a soldier's +great coat all patched and torn, with a +battered hat, from under which a mass of tangled +hair fell over his shoulders and half concealed +his face. The beggar, in a weak, +wheezy, hesitating tone, said, <q>You have advertised +for Molinos Fitz-Roy. I hope you +don't mean him any harm; he is sunk, I think, +too low for enmity now; and surely no one +would sport with such misery as his.</q> These +last words were uttered in a sort of piteous +whisper. +</p> + +<pb n='590'/><anchor id='Pg590'/> + +<p> +I answered quickly, <q>Heaven forbid I should +sport with misery: I mean and hope to do him +good, as well as myself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then, sir, I am Molinos Fitz-Roy!</q> +</p> + +<p> +While we were conversing candles had been +brought in. I have not very tender nerves—my +head would not agree with them—but I +own I started and shuddered when I saw and +knew that the wretched creature before me was +under thirty years of age and once a gentleman. +Sharp, aquiline features, reduced to literal skin +and bone, were begrimed and covered with dry +fair hair; the white teeth of the half-open mouth +shattered with eagerness, and made more hideous +the foul pallor of the rest of the countenance. +As he stood leaning on a staff half bent, his +long, yellow bony fingers clasped over the +crutch-head of his stick, he was indeed a picture +of misery, famine, squalor, and premature +age, too horrible to dwell upon. I made him +sit down, and sent for some refreshment which +he devoured like a ghoul, and set to work to +unravel his story. It was difficult to keep him +to the point; but with pains I learned what +convinced me that he was entitled to some +property, whether great or small there was no +evidence. On parting, I said, <q>Now, Mr. F., +you must stay in town while I make proper +inquiries. What allowance will be enough to +keep you comfortably?</q> +</p> + +<p> +He answered humbly, after much pressing, +<q>Would you think ten shillings too much?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I don't like, if I do those things at all, to do +them shabbily, so I said, <q>Come every Saturday +and you shall have a pound.</q> He was profuse +in thanks, of course, as all such men are as long +as distress lasts. +</p> + +<p> +I had previously learned that my ragged +client's wife was in England, living in a splendid +house in Hyde Park Gardens, under her +maiden name. On the following day the Earl +of Owing called upon me, wanting five thousand +pounds by five o'clock the same evening. It +was a case of life or death with him, so I made +my terms, and took advantage of his pressure to +execute a <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>coup de main</foreign>. I proposed that he +should drive me home to receive the money, +calling at Mrs. Molinos in Hyde Park Gardens, +on our way. I knew that the coronet and liveries +of his father, the marquis, would insure me +an audience with Mrs. Molinos Fitz-Roy. +</p> + +<p> +My scheme answered. I was introduced into +the lady's presence. She was, and probably is, +a very stately, handsome woman, with a pale +complexion, high solid forehead, regular features, +thin, pinched, self-satisfied mouth. My +interview was very short, I plunged into the +middle of the affair, but had scarcely mentioned +the word husband, when she interrupted me +with, <q>I presume you have lent this profligate +person money, and want me to pay you.</q> She +paused, and then said, <q>He shall not have a +farthing.</q> As she spoke, her white face became +scarlet. +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, madam, the man is starving. I have +strong reasons for believing he is entitled to +property, and if you refuse any assistance, I +must take other measures.</q> She rang the bell, +wrote something rapidly on a card; and, as the +footman appeared, pushed it toward me across +the table, with the air of touching a toad, saying, +<q>There, sir, is the address of my solicitors; +apply to them if you think you have any claim. +Robert, show the person out, and take care he +is not admitted again.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So far I had effected nothing; and, to tell the +truth, felt rather crest-fallen under the influence +of that grand manner peculiar to certain great +ladies and to all great actresses. +</p> + +<p> +My next visit was to the attorneys, Messrs. +Leasem and Fashun, of Lincoln's Inn Square, +and there I was at home. I had had dealings +with the firm before. They are agents for half +the aristocracy, who always run in crowds like +sheep after the same wine-merchants, the same +architects, the same horse-dealers, and the same +law-agents. It may be doubted whether the +quality of law and land management they get +on this principle is quite equal to their wine +and horses. At any rate, my friends of Lincoln's +Inn, like others of the same class, are +distinguished by their courteous manners, deliberate +proceedings, innocence of legal technicalities, +long credit, and heavy charges. Leasem, +the elder partner, wears powder and a huge +bunch of seals, lives in Queen-square, drives a +brougham, gives the dinners and does the cordial +department. He is so strict in performing +the latter duty, that he once addressed a poacher +who had shot a duke's keeper, as <q>my dear +creature,</q> although he afterward hung him. +</p> + +<p> +Fashun has chambers in St. James-street, +drives a cab, wears a tip, and does the grand +haha style. +</p> + +<p> +My business lay with Leasem. The interviews +and letters passing were numerous. However, +it came at last to the following dialogue: +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, my dear Mr. Discount,</q> began Mr. +Leasem, who hates me like poison. <q>I'm +really very sorry for that poor dear Molinos—knew +his father well; a great man, a perfect +gentleman; but you know what women are, +eh, Mr. Discount? My client won't advance a +shilling; she knows it would only be wasted in +low dissipation. Now, don't you think (this +was said very insinuatingly)—don't you think +he had better be sent to the workhouse; very +comfortable accommodations there, I can assure +you—meat twice a week, and excellent soup; +and then, Mr. D., we might consider about +allowing you something for that bill.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Mr. Leasem, can you reconcile it to your +conscience to make such an arrangement? +Here's a wife rolling in luxury, and a husband +starving!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, Mr. Discount, not starving; there is +the workhouse, as I observed before; besides, +allow me to suggest that these appeals to feeling +are quite unprofessional—quite unprofessional.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, Mr. Leasem, touching this property +which the poor man is entitled to.</q> +</p> + +<pb n='591'/><anchor id='Pg591'/> + +<p> +<q>Why, there again, Mr. D., you must excuse +me; you really must. I don't say he is; I don't +say he is not. If you know he is entitled to +property, I am sure you know how to proceed; +the law is open to you, Mr. Discount—the law +is open; and a man of your talent will know +how to use it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then, Mr. Leasem, you mean that I must, +in order to right this starving man, file a bill of +discovery, to extract from you the particulars +of his rights. You have the marriage settlement, +and all the information, and you decline +to allow a pension, or afford any information; +the man is to starve, or go to the workhouse.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, Mr. D., you are so quick and violent, +it really is not professional; but you see (here +a subdued smile of triumph), it has been decided +that a solicitor is not bound to afford such information +as you ask, to the injury of his client.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then you mean that this poor Molinos may +rot and starve, while you keep secret from him, +at his wife's request, his title to an income, and +that the Court of Chancery will back you in this +iniquity?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I kept repeating the word <q>starve,</q> because +I saw it made my respectable opponent wince. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, then, just listen to me. I know that +in the happy state of your equity law, chancery +can't help my client; but I have another plan: +I shall go hence to my office, issue a writ, and +take your client's husband in execution—as +soon as he is lodged in jail, I shall file his +schedule in the Insolvent Court, and when he +comes up for his discharge, I shall put you in +the witness-box, and examine you on oath, +<q>touching any property of which you know the +insolvent to be possessed,</q> and where will be +your privileged communications then?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The respectable Leasem's face lengthened in +a twinkling, his comfortable confident air vanished, +he ceased twiddling his gold chain, and, +at length, he muttered, +</p> + +<p> +<q>Suppose we pay the debt?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, then, I'll arrest him the day after for +another.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, my dear Mr. Discount, surely such +conduct would not be quite respectable.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That's my business; my client has been +wronged, I am determined to right him, and +when the aristocratic firm, of Leasem and +Fashun takes refuge according to the custom of +respectable repudiators, in the cool arbors of +the Court of Chancery, why, a mere bill-discounting +attorney like David Discount need not +hesitate about cutting a bludgeon out of the +Insolvent Court.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, well, Mr. D., you are so warm—so +fiery; we must deliberate—we must consult. +You will give me until the day after to-morrow, +and then we'll write you our final determination; +in the meantime, send us a copy +of your authority to act for Mr. Molinos Fitz-Roy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Of course, I lost no time in getting the gentleman +beggar to sign a proper letter. +</p> + +<p> +On the appointed day came a communication +with the L. and F. seal, which I opened, not +without unprofessional eagerness. It was as +follows: +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'><hi rend='italic'>In re Molinos Fitz-Roy and Another.</hi></q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir—In answer to your application on behalf +of Mr. Molinos Fitz-Roy, we beg to inform +you that under the administration of a paternal +aunt who died intestate, your client is entitled +to two thousand five hundred pounds eight shillings +and sixpence, Three per Cents.; one thousand +five hundred pounds nineteen shillings and +fourpence, Three per Cents. Reduced; one +thousand pounds, Long Annuities; five hundred +pounds, Bank Stock; three thousand five hundred +pounds, India Stock; besides other securities, +making up about ten thousand pounds, +which we are prepared to transfer over to Mr. +Molinos Fitz-Roy's direction forthwith.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Here was a windfall! It quite took away +my breath. +</p> + +<p> +At dusk came my gentleman beggar, and +what puzzled me was, how to break the news +to him. Being very much overwhelmed with +business that day, I had not much time for consideration. +He came in rather better dressed +than when I first saw him, with only a week's +beard on his chin; but, as usual, not quite +sober. Six weeks had elapsed since our first +interview. He was still the humble, trembling, +low-voiced creature, I first knew him. +</p> + +<p> +After a prelude, I said, <q>I find, Mr. F., you +are entitled to something; pray, what do you +mean to give me in addition to my bill, for obtaining +it?</q> He answered rapidly, <q>Oh, take +half; if there is one hundred pounds, take +half; if there is five hundred pounds, take +half.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, no; Mr. F., I don't do business in that +way, I shall be satisfied with ten per cent.</q> +</p> + +<p> +It was so settled. I then led him out into +the street, impelled to tell him the news, yet +dreading the effect; not daring to make the +revelation in my office, for fear of a scene. +</p> + +<p> +I began hesitatingly, <q>Mr. Fitz-Roy, I am +happy to say, that I find you are entitled to +.....ten thousand pounds!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ten thousand pounds!</q> he echoed. <q>Ten +thousand pounds!</q> he shrieked. <q>Ten thousand +pounds!</q> he yelled, seizing my arm violently. +<q>You are a brick. Here, cab! cab!</q> +Several drove up—the shout might have been +heard a mile off. He jumped in the first. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Where to?</q> said the driver. +</p> + +<p> +<q>To a tailor's, you rascal!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ten thousand pounds! ha, ha, ha!</q> he +repeated hysterically, when in the cab; and +every moment grasping my arm. Presently he +subsided, looked me straight in the face, and +muttered with agonizing fervor, +</p> + +<p> +<q>What a jolly brick you are!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The tailor, the hosier, the bootmaker, the +hair-dresser, were in turn visited by this poor +pagan of externals. As, by degrees, under +their hands, he emerged from the beggar to the +<pb n='592'/><anchor id='Pg592'/> +gentleman, his spirits rose; his eyes brightened; +he walked erect, but always nervously grasping +my arm; fearing, apparently, to lose sight of +me for a moment, lest his fortune should vanish +with me. The impatient pride with which he +gave his orders to the astonished tradesmen for +the finest and best of every thing, and the +amazed air of the fashionable hairdresser when +he presented his matted locks and stubble chin, +to be <q>cut and shaved,</q> may be <emph>acted</emph>—it can +not be described. +</p> + +<p> +By the time the external transformation was +complete, and I sat down in a <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>Café</foreign> in the +Haymarket, opposite a haggard but handsome, +thoroughbred-looking man, whose air, with the +exception of the wild eyes and deeply browned +face, did not differ from the stereotyped men +about town sitting around us, Mr. Molinos Fitz-Roy +had already almost forgotten the past; he +bullied the waiter, and criticised the wine, as if +he had done nothing else but dine and drink and +scold there all the days of his life. +</p> + +<p> +Once he wished to drink my health, and +would have proclaimed his whole story to the +coffee-room assembly, in a raving style. When +I left he almost wept in terror at the idea of +losing sight of me. But, allowing for these +ebullitions—the natural result of such a whirl +of events—he was wonderfully calm and self-possessed. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, his first care was to distribute +fifty pounds among his friends the cadgers, at a +house of call in Westminster, and formally to +dissolve his connection with them; those present +undertaking for the <q>fraternity,</q> that, for the +future, he should never be noticed by them in +public or private. +</p> + +<p> +I can not follow his career much further. +Adversity had taught him nothing. He was +soon again surrounded by the well-bred vampires +who had forgotten him when penniless; +but they amused him, and that was enough. +The ten thousand pounds were rapidly melting +when he invited me to a grand dinner at Richmond, +which included a dozen of the most +agreeable, good-looking, well-dressed dandies +of London, interspersed with a display of pretty +butterfly bonnets. We dined deliciously, and +drank as men do of iced wines in the dog-days—looking +down from Richmond Hill. +</p> + +<p> +One of the pink bonnets crowned Fitz-Roy +with a wreath of flowers; he looked—less the +intellect—as handsome as Alcibiades. Intensely +excited and flushed, he rose with a champagne +glass in his hand to propose my health. +</p> + +<p> +The oratorical powers of his father had not +descended on him. Jerking out sentences by +spasms, at length he said, <q>I was a beggar—I +am a gentleman—thanks to this—</q> +</p> + +<p> +Here he leaned on my shoulder heavily a +moment, and then fell back. We raised him, +loosened his neckcloth— +</p> + +<p> +<q>Fainted!</q> said the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Drunk!</q> said the gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +He was <emph>dead!</emph> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Singular Proceedings Of The +Sand Wasp. (From Howitt's Country Year-Book.)</head> + +<p> +In all my observations of the habits of living +things, I have never seen any thing more curious +than the doings of one species of these ammophilæ—lovers +of sand. I have watched them day +after day, and hour after hour, in my garden, +and also on the sandy banks on the wastes +about Esher, in Surrey, and always with unabated +wonder. They are about an inch long, +with orange-colored bodies, and black heads and +wings. They are slender and most active. +You see them on the warm borders of your garden, +or on warm, dry banks, in summer, when +the sun shines hotly. They are incessantly +and most actively hunting about. They are in +pursuit of a particular gray spider with a large +abdomen. For these they pursue their chase +with a fiery quickness and avidity. The spiders +are on the watch to seize flies; but here we +have the tables turned, and these are flies on +the watch to discover and kill the spiders. +These singular insects seem all velocity and +fire. They come flying at a most rapid rate, +light down on the dry soil, and commence an +active search. The spiders lie under the leaves +of plants, and in little dens under the dry little +clods. Into all these places the sand-wasp pops +his head. He bustles along here and there, +flirting his wings, and his whole body all life +and fire. And now he moves off to a distance, +hunts about there, then back to his first place, +beats the old ground carefully over, as a pointer +beats a field. He searches carefully round every +little knob of earth, and pops his head into every +crevice. Ever and anon, he crouches close +among the little clods as a tiger would crouch +for his prey. He seems to be listening, or +smelling down into the earth, as if to discover +his prey by every sense which he possesses, +He goes round every stalk, and descends into +every hollow about them. When he finds the +spider, he dispatches him in a moment, and +seizing him by the centre of his chest, commences +dragging him off backward. +</p> + +<p> +He conveys his prey to a place of safety. +Frequently he carries it up some inches into a +plant, and lodges it among the green leaves. +Seeing him do this, I poked his spider down +with a stick after he had left it; but he speedily +returned, and finding it fallen down, he immediately +carried it up again to the same place. +</p> + +<p> +Having thus secured his spider, he selects a +particular spot of earth, the most sunny and +warm, and begins to dig a pit. He works with +all his might, digging up the earth with his +formidable mandibles, and throwing it out with +his feet, as a dog throws out the earth when +scratching after a rabbit. Every few seconds +he ascends, tail first, out of his hole, clears +away the earth about its mouth with his legs, +and spreads it to a distance on the surface. +When he has dug the hole, perhaps two inches +deep, he comes forth eagerly, goes off for his +<pb n='593'/><anchor id='Pg593'/> +spider, drags it down from its lodgment, and +brings it to the mouth of his hole. He now lets +himself down the hole, tail first, and then, putting +forth his head, takes the spider, and turns +it into the most suitable position for dragging it +in. +</p> + +<p> +It must be observed that this hole is made +carefully of only about the width of his body, +and therefore the spider can not be got into it +except lengthwise, and then by stout pulling. +Well, he turns it lengthwise, and seizing it, +commences dragging it in. At first, you would +imagine this impossible; but the sand-wasp is +strong, and the body of the spider is pliable. +You soon see it disappear. Down into the cylindrical +hole it goes, and anon you perceive the +sand-wasp pushing up its black head beside it; +and having made his way out he again sets to +work, and pushes the spider with all his force +to the bottom of the den. +</p> + +<p> +And what is all this for? Is the spider laid +up in his larder for himself? No; it is food +for his children? It is their birth-place, and +their supply of provision while they are in the +larva state. +</p> + +<p> +We have been all along calling this creature +he, for it has a most masculine look; but it is in +reality a she; it is the female sand-wasp, and +all this preparation is for the purpose of laying +her eggs. For this she has sought and killed +the spider, and buried it here. She has done it +all wittingly. She has chosen one particular +spider, and that only, for that is the one peculiarly +adapted to nourish her young. +</p> + +<p> +So here it is safely stored away in her den; +and she now descends, tail first, and piercing +the pulpy abdomen of the spider, she deposits +her egg or eggs. That being done, she carefully +begins filling in the hole with earth. She +rakes it up with her legs and mandibles, and fills +in the hole, every now and then turning round +and going backward into the hole to stamp down +the earth with her feet, and to ram it down +with her body as a rammer. When the hole is +filled, it is curious to observe with what care +she levels the surface, and removes the surrounding +lumps of earth, laying some first over +the tomb of the spider, and others about, so as +to make that place look as much as possible +like the surface all round. And before she has +done with it—and she works often for ten minutes +at this leveling and disguising before she is +perfectly satisfied—she makes the place so exactly +like all the rest of the surface, that it will +require good eyes and close observation to recognize +it. +</p> + +<p> +She has now done her part, and Nature must +do the rest. She has deposited her eggs in the +body of the spider, and laid that body in the +earth in the most sunny spot she can find. She +has laid it so near the surface that the sun will +act on it powerfully, yet deep enough to conceal +it from view. She has, with great art and +anxiety, destroyed all traces of the hole, and +the effect will soon commence. The heat of +the sun will hatch the egg. The larva, or +young grub of the sand-wasp, will become +alive, and begin to feed on the pulpy body of +the spider in which it is enveloped. This food +will suffice it till it is ready to emerge to daylight, +and pass through the different stages of +its existence. Like the ostrich, the sand-wasp +thus leaves her egg in the sand till the sun +hatches it, and having once buried it, most +probably never knows herself where it is deposited. +It is left to Nature and Providence +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>What Horses Think Of Men. +From The Raven In The Happy Family. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +I suppose you thought I was dead? No such +thing. Don't flatter yourselves that I haven't +got my eye upon you. I am wide awake, and +you give me plenty to look at. +</p> + +<p> +I have begun my great work about you, I +have been collecting materials from the Horse, +to begin with. You are glad to hear it, ain't +you? Very likely. Oh, he gives you a nice +character! He makes you out a charming set +of fellows. +</p> + +<p> +He informs me by-the-by, that he is a distant +relation of the pony that was taken up in a balloon +a few weeks ago; and that the pony's +account of your going to see him at Vauxhall +Gardens, is an amazing thing. The pony says +that when he looked round on the assembled +crowd, come to see the realization of the wood-cut +in the bill, he found it impossible to discover +which was the real Mister Green—there +were so many Mister Greens—and they were +all so very green! +</p> + +<p> +But that's the way with you. You know it +is. Don't tell me! You'd go to see any thing +that other people went to see. And don't flatter +yourselves that I am referring to <q>the vulgar +curiosity,</q> as you choose to call it, when +you mean some curiosity in which you don't +participate yourselves. The polite curiosity in +this country is as vulgar as any curiosity in the +world. +</p> + +<p> +Of course you'll tell me, no it isn't; but I +say, yes it is. What have you got to say for +yourselves about the Nepaulese princes, I should +like to know? Why, there has been more +crowding, and pressing, and pushing, and jostling, +and struggling, and striving, in genteel +houses this last season, on account of those Nepaulese +princes, than would have taken place in +vulgar Cremorne Gardens and Greenwich Park, +at Easter time and Whitsuntide! And what +for? Do you know any thing about 'em? +Have you any idea why they came here? Can +you put your finger on their country in the +map? Have you ever asked yourselves a dozen +common questions about its climate, natural +history, government, productions, customs, religion, +manners? Not you! Here are a couple +of swarthy princes very much out of their +element, walking about in wide muslin trowsers, +and sprinkled all over with gems (like the clockwork +figure on the old round platform in the +<pb n='594'/><anchor id='Pg594'/> +street, grown-up), and they're fashionable outlandish +monsters, and it's a new excitement for +you to get a stare at 'em. As to asking 'em +to dinner, and seeing 'em sit at table without +eating in your company (unclean animals as +you are!), you fall into raptures at that. Quite +delicious, isn't it? Ugh, you dunder-headed +boobies! +</p> + +<p> +I wonder what there is, new and strange, +that you <emph>wouldn't</emph> lionize, as you call it. Can +you suggest any thing! It's not a hippopotamus, +I suppose. I hear from my brother-in-law +in the Zoological Gardens, that you are +always pelting away into the Regent's Park, +by thousands, to see the hippopotamus. Oh, +you're very fond of hippopotami, ain't you? +You study one attentively, when you <emph>do</emph> see +one, don't you? You come away so much +wiser than when you went, reflecting so profoundly +on the wonders of the creation—eh? +</p> + +<p> +Bah! You follow one another like wild +geese; but you are not so good to eat! +</p> + +<p> +These, however, are not the observations of +my friend the Horse. <emph>He</emph> takes you, in another +point of view. Would you like to read his contribution +to my Natural History of you? No? +You shall then. +</p> + +<p> +He is a cab-horse now. He wasn't always, +but he is now, and his usual stand is close to +our proprietor's usual stand. That's the way +we have come into communication, we <q>dumb +animals.</q> Ha, ha! Dumb, too! Oh, the conceit +of you men, because you can bother the +community out of their five wits, by making +speeches! +</p> + +<p> +Well. I mentioned to this Horse that I +should be glad to have his opinions and experiences +of you. Here they are: +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>At the request of my honorable friend the +Raven, I proceed to offer a few remarks in +reference to the animal called Man. I have +had varied experience of this strange creature +for fifteen years, and am now driven by a Man, +in the hackney cabriolet, number twelve thousand +four hundred and fifty-two.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>The sense Man entertains of his own inferiority +to the nobler animals—and I am now +more particularly referring to the Horse—has +impressed me forcibly, in the course of my +career. If a man knows a horse well, he is +prouder of it than of any knowledge of himself, +within the range of his limited capacity. He +regards it as the sum of all human acquisition. +If he is learned in a horse, he has nothing else +to learn. And the same remark applies, with +some little abatement, to his acquaintance with +dogs. I have seen a good deal of man in my time, +but I think I have never met a man who didn't +feel it necessary to his reputation to pretend, on +occasion, that he knew something of horses and +dogs, though he really knew nothing. As to +making us a subject of conversation, my opinion +is that we are more talked about than history, +philosophy, literature, art, and science, all put +together. I have encountered innumerable gentlemen +in the country, who were totally incapable +of interest in any thing but horses and dogs—except +cattle. And I have always been given +to understand that they were the flower of the +civilized world.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>It is very doubtful to me, whether there is, +upon the whole, any thing man is so ambitious +to imitate as an ostler, jockey, a stage coachman, +a horse-dealer, or dog-fancier. There +may be some other character which I do not +immediately remember, that fires him with emulation; +but if there be, I am sure it is connected +with horses or dogs, or both. This is +an unconscious compliment, on the part of the +tyrant, to the nobler animals, which I consider +to be very remarkable. I have known lords +and baronets, and members of parliament, out +of number, who have deserted every other calling +to become but indifferent stablemen or kennelmen, +and be cheated on all hands, by the real +aristocracy of those pursuits who were regularly +born to the business.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>All this, I say, is a tribute to our superiority, +which I consider to be very remarkable. +Yet, still I can't quite understand it. Man can +hardly devote himself to us, in admiration of +our virtues, because he never imitates them. +We horses are as honest, though I say it, as +animals can be. If, under the pressure of circumstances, +we submit to act at a circus, for +instance, we always show that we are acting. +We never deceive any body. We would scorn +to do it. If we are called upon to do any thing +in earnest, we do our best. If we are required +to run a race falsely, and to lose when we could +win, we are not to be relied upon to commit a +fraud; man must come in at that point, and +force us to it. And the extraordinary circumstance +to me is, that man (whom I take to be a +powerful species of monkey) is always making +us nobler animals the instruments of his meanness +and cupidity. The very name of our kind +has become a byword for all sorts of trickery +and cheating. We are as innocent as counters +at a game—and yet this creature <hi rend='smallcaps'>will</hi> play +falsely with us!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>Man's opinion, good or bad, is not worth +much, as any rational horse knows. But justice +is justice; and what I complain of is, that mankind +talks of us as if we had something to do +with all this. They say that such a man was +<q>ruined by horses.</q> Ruined by horses! They +can't be open, even in that, and say he was +ruined by men; but they lay it at <emph>our</emph> stable-door! +As if we ever ruined any body, or were +ever doing any thing but being ruined ourselves, +in our generous desire to fulfill the useful purposes +of our existence!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>In the same way, we get a bad name, as if +we were profligate company. <q>So and so got +among horses, and it was all up with him.</q> +Why, <emph>we</emph> would have reclaimed him—<emph>we</emph> would +have made him temperate, industrious, punctual, +steady, sensible—what harm would he +ever have got from <emph>us</emph>, I should wish to ask?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>Upon the whole, speaking of him as I have +<pb n='595'/><anchor id='Pg595'/> +found him, I should describe man as an unmeaning +and conceited creature, very seldom to +be trusted, and not likely to make advances +toward the honesty of the nobler animals. I +should say that his power of warping the nobler +animals to bad purposes, and damaging their +reputation by his companionship, is, next to the +art of growing oats, hay, carrots, and clover, +one of his principal attributes. He is very unintelligible +in his caprices; seldom expressing +with distinctness what he wants of us; and relying +greatly on our better judgment to find out. +He is cruel, and fond of blood—particularly at +a steeple-chase—and is very ungrateful.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>And yet, so far as I can understand, he +worships us, too. He sets up images of us +(not particularly like, but meant to be) in the +streets and calls upon his fellows to admire +them, and believe in them. As well as I can +make out, it is not of the least importance what +images of men are put astride upon these images +of horses, for I don't find any famous personage +among them—except one, and <emph>his</emph> image seems +to have been contracted for by the gross. The +jockeys who ride our statues are very queer +jockeys, it appears to me, but it is something +to find man even posthumously sensible of what +he owes to us. I believe that when he has +done any great wrong to any very distinguished +horse, deceased, he gets up a subscription to +have an awkward likeness of him made, and +erects it in a public place, to be generally venerated. +I can find no other reason for the +statues of us that abound.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>It must be regarded as a part of the inconsistency +of man, that he erects no statues to +the donkeys—who, though far inferior animals +to ourselves, have great claims upon him. I +should think a donkey opposite the horse at +Hyde Park, another in Trafalgar-square, and a +group of donkeys, in brass, outside the Guild-hall +of the city of London (for I believe the +common-council chamber is inside that building) +would be pleasant and appropriate memorials.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am not aware that I can suggest any +thing more to my honorable friend the Raven, +which will not already have occurred to his +fine intellect. Like myself, he is the victim of +brute force, and must bear it until the present +state of things is changed—as it possibly may +be in the good time which I understand is coming, +if I wait a little longer.</q> +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +There! How do you like that? That's the +Horse! You shall have another animal's +sentiments, soon. I have communicated with +plenty of 'em, and they are all down upon you. +It's not I alone who have found you out. You +are generally detected, I am happy to say, and +shall be covered with confusion. +</p> + +<p> +Talking about the horse, are you going to +set up any more horses? Eh? Think a bit. +Come! You haven't got horses enough yet, +surely? Couldn't you put somebody else on +horseback, and stick him up, at the cost of a +few thousands? You have already statues to +most of the <q>benefactors of mankind</q> (<hi rend='smallcaps'>see +Advertisement</hi>) in your principal cities. You +walk through groves of great inventors, instructors, +discoverers, assuagers of pain, preventers +of disease, suggesters of purifying +thoughts, doers of noble deeds. Finish the list. +Come! +</p> + +<p> +Whom will you hoist into the saddle? Let's +have a cardinal virtue! Shall it be Faith? +Hope? Charity? Ay, Charity's the virtue to +ride on horseback! Let's have Charity! +</p> + +<p> +How shall we represent it? Eh? What +do you think? Royal? Certainly. Duke? +Of course. Charity always was typified in that +way, from the time of a certain widow downward. +And there's nothing less left to put up; +all the commoners who were <q>benefactors of +mankind</q> having had their statues in the public +places, long ago. +</p> + +<p> +How shall we dress it? Rags? Low. Drapery? +Commonplace. Field-Marshal's uniform? +The very thing! Charity in a Field-Marshal's +uniform (none the worse for wear) +with thirty thousand pounds a year, public +money, in its pocket, and fifteen thousand more, +public money, up behind, will be a piece of plain, +uncompromising truth in the highways, and an +honor to the country and the time. +</p> + +<p> +Ha, ha, ha! You can't leave the memory of +an unassuming, honest, good-natured, amiable +old duke alone, without bespattering it with +your flunkeyism, can't you? That's right—and +like you! Here are three brass buttons in +my crop. I'll subscribe 'em all. One, to the +statue of Charity; one, to a statue of Hope; +one, to a statue of Faith. For Faith, we'll +have the Nepaulese Embassador on horseback—being +a prince. And for Hope, we'll put the +Hippopotamus on horseback, and so make a +group. +</p> + +<p> +Let's have a meeting about it! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Quakers During The American +War. (From Howitt's Country Year-Book.)</head> + +<p> +George Dilwyn was an American, a +remarkable preacher among the Quakers. +About fifty years ago he came over to this +country, on what we have already said is termed +a <q>Religious Visit,</q> and being in Cornwall, when +I was there, and at George Fox's, in Falmouth—our +aged relative still narrates—soon became +an object of great attraction, not only from his +powerful preaching, but from his extraordinary +gift in conversation, which he made singularly +interesting from the introduction of curious passages +in his own life and experience. +</p> + +<p> +His company was so much sought after, that +a general invitation was given, by his hospitable +and wealthy entertainer, to all the Friends of +the town and neighborhood to come, and hear, +and see him; and evening by evening, their +rooms were crowded by visitors, who sat on +seats, side by side, as in a public lecture-room. +</p> + +<p> +Among other things, he related, that during +<pb n='596'/><anchor id='Pg596'/> +the time of the revolutionary war, one of the +armies passing through a district in which a +great number of Friends resided, food was demanded +from the inhabitants, which was given +to them. The following day the adverse army +came up in pursuit, and stripped them of every +kind of provision that remained; and so great +was the strait to which they were reduced, that +absolute famine was before them. Their sufferings +were extreme, as day after day went +on, and no prospect of relief was afforded them. +Death seemed to stare them in the face, and +many a one was ready to despair. The forests +around them were in possession of the soldiers, +and the game, which otherwise might have +yielded them subsistence, was killed or driven +away. +</p> + +<p> +After several days of great distress, they retired +at night, still without hope or prospect of +succor. How great, then, was their surprise +and cause of thankfulness when, on the following +morning, immense herds of wild deer were +seen standing around their inclosures, as if driven +there for their benefit! From whence they +came none could tell, nor the cause of their +coming, but they suffered themselves to be taken +without resistance; and thus the whole people +were saved, and had great store of provisions +laid up for many weeks. +</p> + +<p> +Again, a similar circumstance occurred near +the sea-shore, when the flying and pursuing +armies had stripped the inhabitants, and when, +apparently to add to their distress, the wind set +in with such unusual violence, and the sea drove +the tide so far inland, that the people near the +shore were obliged to abandon their houses, and +those in the town retreat to their upper rooms. +This also being during the night, greatly added +to their distress; and, like the others, they were +ready to despair. Next morning, however, they +found that God had not been unmindful of them; +for the tide had brought up with it a most extraordinary +shoal of mackerel, so that every place +was filled with them, where they remained ready +taken, without net or skill of man—a bountiful +provision for the wants of the people, till other +relief could be obtained. +</p> + +<p> +Another incident he related, which occurred +in one of the back settlements, when the Indians +had been employed to burn the dwellings of the +settlers, and cruelly to murder the people. One +of these solitary habitations was in the possession +of a Friend's family. They lived in such secure +simplicity, that they had hitherto had no apprehension +of danger, and used neither bar nor bolt +to their door, having no other means of securing +their dwelling from intrusion than by drawing +in the leathern thong by which the wooden +latch inside was lifted from without. +</p> + +<p> +The Indians had committed frightful ravages +all around, burning and murdering without mercy. +Every evening brought forth tidings of horror, +and every night the unhappy settlers surrounded +themselves with such defenses as they could +muster—even then, for dread, scarcely being +able to sleep. The Friend and his family, who +had hitherto put no trust in the arm of flesh, +but had left all in the keeping of God, believing +that man often ran in his own strength to his +own injury, had used so little precaution, that +they slept without even withdrawing the string, +and were as yet uninjured. Alarmed, however, +at length, by the fears of others, and by the +dreadful rumors that surrounded them, they +yielded to their fears on one particular night, +and, before retiring to rest, drew in the string, +and thus secured themselves as well as they +were able. +</p> + +<p> +In the dead of the night, the Friend, who had +not been able to sleep, asked his wife if she +slept; and she replied that she could not, for +her mind was uneasy. Upon this, he confessed +that the same was his case, and that he believed +it would be the safest for him to rise and put +out the string of the latch as usual. On her +approving of this, it was done, and the two lay +down again, commending themselves to the +keeping of God. +</p> + +<p> +This had not occurred above ten minutes, +when the dismal sound of the war-whoop echoed +through the forest, filling every heart with dread, +and almost immediately afterward, they counted +the footsteps of seven men pass the window of +their chamber, which was on the ground-floor, +and the next moment the door-string was pulled, +the latch lifted, and the door opened. A debate +of a few minutes took place, the purport of +which, as it was spoken in the Indian language, +was unintelligible to the inhabitants; but that +it was favorable to them was proved by the door +being again closed, and the Indians retiring +without having crossed the threshold. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning they saw the smoke rising +from burning habitations all around them; parents +were weeping for their children who were carried +off, and children lamenting over their parents +who had been cruelly slain. +</p> + +<p> +Some years afterward, when peace was +restored, and the colonists had occasion to hold +conferences with the Indians, this Friend was +appointed as one for that purpose, and speaking +in favor of the Indians, he related the above +incident; in reply to which, an Indian observed, +that, by the simple circumstance of putting out +the latch-string, which proved confidence rather +than fear, their lives and their property had +been saved; for that he himself was one of that +marauding party, and that, on finding the door +open, it was said—<q>These people shall live; +they will do us no harm, for they put their trust +in the <hi rend='smallcaps'>Great Spirit</hi>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +During the whole American revolution, +indeed, the Indians, though incited by the +whites to kill and scalp the enemy, never +molested the Friends, as the people of Father +Onas, or William Penn, and as the avowed +opponents of all violence. Through the whole +war, there were but two instances to the contrary, +and they were occasioned by the two +Friends themselves. The one was a young +man, a tanner, who went to his tan-yard and +back daily unmolested, while devastation spread +<pb n='597'/><anchor id='Pg597'/> +on all sides; but at length, thoughtlessly carrying +a gun to shoot some birds, the Indians, in +ambush, believed that he had deserted his principles, +and shot him. The other was a woman, +who, when the dwellings of her neighbors were +nightly fired, and the people themselves murdered, +was importuned by the officers of a +neighboring fort to take refuge there till the +danger was over. For some time she refused, +and remained unharmed amid general destruction; +but, at length, letting in fear, she went +for one night to the fort, but was so uneasy, +that the next morning she quitted it to return +to her home. The Indians, however, believed +that she too had abandoned her principles, and +joined the fighting part of the community, and +before she reached home she was shot by them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>A Shilling's Worth Of Science. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +Dr. Paris has already shown, in a charming +little book treating scientifically of children's +toys, how easy even <q>philosophy in sport can +be made science in earnest.</q> An earlier genius +cut out the whole alphabet into the figures of +uncouth animals, and inclosed them in a toy-box +representing Noah's Ark, for the purpose +of teaching children their letters. Europe, +Asia, Africa, and America, have been decimated; +<q>yea, the great globe itself,</q> has been +parceled into little wooden sections, that their +readjustment into a continuous map might teach +the infant conqueror of the world the relative +positions of distant countries. Archimedes +might have discovered the principle of the lever +and the fundamental principles of gravity upon +a rocking-horse. In like manner he might have +ascertained the laws of hydrostatics, by observing +the impetus of many natural and artificial +fountains, which must occasionally have come +beneath his eye. So also the principles of +acoustics might even now be taught by the aid +of a penny whistle, and there is no knowing +how much children's nursery games may yet be +rendered subservient to the advancement of +science. The famous Dr. Cornelius Scriblerus +had excellent notions on these subjects. He +determined that his son Martinus should be the +most learned and universally well-informed man +of his age, and had recourse to all sorts of devices +in order to inspire him even unthinkingly +with knowledge. He determined that every +thing should contribute to the improvement of +his mind—even his very dress. He therefore, +his biographer informs us, invented for him a +geographical suit of clothes, which might give +him some hints of that science, and also of the +commerce of different nations. His son's disposition +to mathematics—for he was a remarkable +child—was discovered very early by his +drawing parallel lines on his bread and butter, +and intersecting them at equal angles, so as to +form the whole superficies into squares. His +father also wisely resolved that he should acquire +the learned languages, especially Greek—and +remarking, curiously enough, that young +Martinus Scriblerus was remarkably fond of +gingerbread, the happy idea came into his +parental head that his pieces of gingerbread +should be stamped with the letters of the Greek +alphabet; and such was the child's avidity for +knowledge, that the very first day he eat down +to <emph>iota</emph>. +</p> + +<p> +When Sir Isaac Newton changed his residence +and went to live in Leicester-place, his +next door neighbor was a widow lady, who was +much puzzled by the little she observed of the +habits of the philosopher. One of the Fellows +of the Royal Society called upon her one day, +when, among other domestic news, she mentioned +that some one had come to reside in the +adjoining house, who she felt certain was a +poor mad gentleman. <q>And why so?</q> asked +her friend. <q>Because,</q> said she, <q>he diverts +himself in the oddest way imaginable. Every +morning when the sun shines so brightly that +we are obliged to draw down the window-blinds, +he takes his seat on a little stool before a tub of +soap-suds, and occupies himself for hours blowing +soap-bubbles through a common clay-pipe, +which he intently watches floating about until +they burst. He is doubtless,</q> she added, <q>now +at his favorite diversion, for it is a fine day; do +come and look at him.</q> The gentleman smiled; +and they went up-stairs, when after looking +through the stair-case window into the adjoining +court-yard, he turned round and said, <q>My +dear lady, the person whom you suppose to be +a poor lunatic, is no other than the great Sir +Isaac Newton studying the refraction of light +upon thin plates, a phenomenon which is beautifully +exhibited upon the surface of a common +soap-bubble.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The principle, illustrated by the examples we +have given, has been efficiently followed by the +Directors of the Royal Polytechnic Institution +in Regent-street, London. Even the simplest +models and objects they exhibit in their extensive +halls and galleries, expound—like Sir Isaac +Newton's soap-bubble—some important principle +of Science or Art. +</p> + +<p> +On entering the Hall of Manufactures (as we +did the other day) it was impossible not to be +impressed with the conviction that we are in an +utilitarian age in which the science of Mechanics +advances with marvelous rapidity. Here we +observed steam-engines, hand-looms, and machines +in active operation, surrounding us with +that peculiar din which makes the air +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>Murmur, as with the sound of summer-flies.</q> +</quote> + +<p> +Passing into the <q>Gallery in the Great Hall,</q> +we did not fail to derive a momentary amusement, +from observing the very different objects +which seemed most to excite the attention, and +interest of the different sight-seers. Here, stood +obviously a country farmer examining the model +of a steam-plow; there, a Manchester or Birmingham +manufacturer looking into a curious +and complicated weaving machine; here, we +noticed a group of ladies admiring specimens of +<pb n='598'/><anchor id='Pg598'/> +elaborate carving in ivory, and personal ornaments +esteemed highly fashionable at the antipodes; +and there, the smiling faces of youth +watching with eager eyes the little boats and +steamers paddling along the Water Reservoir +in the central counter. But we had scarcely +looked around us, when a bell rang to announce +a lecture on Voltaic Electricity by Dr. Bachhoffner; +and moving with a stream of people +up a short stair-case, we soon found ourselves +in a very commodious and well-arranged theatre. +There are many universities and public +institutions that have not better lecture rooms +than this theatre in the Royal Polytechnic Institution. +The lecture was elementary and exceedingly +instructive, pointing out and showing +by experiments, the identity between Magnetism +and Electricity—light and heat; but notwithstanding +the extreme perspicuity of the Professor, +it was our fate to sit next two old ladies +who seemed to be very incredulous about the +whole business. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If heat and light are the same thing,</q> +asked one, <q>why don't a flame come out at the +spout of a boiling tea-kettle?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The steam,</q> answered the other, <q>may +account for that.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hush!</q> cried somebody behind them; and +the ladies were silent: but it was plain they +thought Voltaic Electricity had something to do +with conjuring, and that the lecturer might be +a professor of Magic. The lecture over, we +returned to the Gallery, where we found the +Diving Bell just about to be put in operation. +It is made of cast iron, and weighs three tons; +the interior being provided with seats, and +lighted by openings in the crown, upon which a +plate of thick glass is secured. The weighty +instrument suspended by a massive chain to a +large swing crane, was soon in motion, when +we observed our skeptical lady-friends join a +party and enter, in order, we presume, to make +themselves more sure of the truth of the diving-bell +than they could do of the identity between +light and heat. The bell was soon swung round +and lowered into a tank, which holds nearly ten +thousand gallons of water; but we confess our +fears for the safety of its inmates were greatly +appeased, when we learned that the whole of +this reservoir of water could be emptied in less +than one minute. Slowly and steadily was the +bell drawn up again, and we had the satisfaction +of seeing the enterprising ladies and their companions +alight on <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>terra firma</foreign>, nothing injured +excepting that they were greatly flushed in the +face. A man, clad in a water-tight dress and +surmounted with a diving-helmet, next performed +a variety of sub-aqueous feats, much to the +amusement and astonishment of the younger +part of the audience, one of whom shouted as +he came up above the surface of the water, +<q>Oh! ma'a! Don't he look like an Ogre!</q> +and certainly the shining brass helmet and staring +large plate-glass eyes fairly warranted such +a suggestion. The principles of the diving-bell +and of the diving-helmet are too well known to +require explanation: but the practical utility of +these machines is daily proved. Even while +we now write, it has been ascertained that the +foundations of Blackfriars Bridge are giving +way. The bed of the river, owing to the constant +ebb and flow of its waters, has sunk some +six or seven feet below its level since the bridge +was built, thus undermining its foundation; and +this effect, it is presumed, has been greatly +augmented by the removal of the old London +Bridge, the works surrounding which operated +as a dam in checking the force of the current. +These machines, also, are constantly used in +repairing the bottom of docks, landing-piers, +and in the construction of breakwater works, +such as those which are at present being raised +at Dover Harbor. +</p> + +<p> +Among other remarkable objects in the museum +of natural history we recognized, swimming +upon his shingly bed under a glass case, +our old friend the Gymnotus Electricus, or +Electrical Eel. Truly, he is a marvelous fish. +The power which animals of every description +possess in adapting themselves to external and +adventitious circumstances, is here marvelously +illustrated, for, notwithstanding this creature is +surrounded by the greatest possible amount of +artificial circumstances, inasmuch as instead of +sporting in his own pellucid and sparkling +waters of the river Amazon, he is here confined +in a glass prison, in water artificially heated; +instead of his natural food, he is here supplied +with fish not indigenous to his native country, +and denied access to fresh air, with sunlight +sparkling upon the surface of the waves—he is +here surrounded by an impure and obscure atmosphere, +with crowds of people constantly +moving to and fro and gazing upon him; yet, +notwithstanding all these disadvantageous circumstances, +he has continued to thrive; nay, +since we saw him ten years ago, he has increased +in size and is apparently very healthy, +notwithstanding that he is obviously quite blind. +</p> + +<p> +This specimen of the Gymnotus Electricus +was caught in the river Amazon, and was +brought over to this country by Mr. Potter, +where it arrived on the 12th of August, 1838, +when he displayed it to the proprietors of the +Adelaide Gallery. In the first instance, there +was some difficulty in keeping him alive, for, +whether from sickness, or sulkiness, he refused +food of every description, and is said to have +eaten nothing from the day he was taken, in +March, 1838, to the 19th of the following October. +He was confided upon his arrival to the +care of Mr. Bradley, who placed him in an +apartment the temperature of which could be +maintained at about seventy-five degrees Fahrenheit, +and acting upon the suggestions of +Baron Humboldt, he endeavored to feed him +with bits of boiled meat, worms, frogs, fish, and +bread, which were all tried in succession. But +the animal would not touch these. The plan +adopted by the London fishmongers for fattening +the common eel was then had recourse to; a +quantity of bullock's blood was put into the +<pb n='599'/><anchor id='Pg599'/> +water, care being taken that it should be changed +daily, and this was attended with some beneficial +effects, as the animal gradually improved in +health. In the month of October it occurred +to Mr. Bradley to tempt him with some small +fish, and the first gudgeon thrown into the +water he darted at and swallowed with avidity. +From that period the same diet has been continued, +and he is now fed three times a day, +and upon each occasion is given two or three +carp, or perch, or gudgeon, each weighing from +two to three ounces. In watching his movements +we observed, that in swimming about he +seems to delight in rubbing himself against the +gravel which forms the bed above which he +floats, and the water immediately becomes +clouded with the mucus from which he thus +relieves the surface of his body. +</p> + +<p> +When this species of fish was first discovered, +marvelous accounts respecting them were transmitted +to the Royal Society: it was even said +that in the river Surinam, in the western province +of Guiana, some existed twenty feet long. +The present specimen is forty inches in length; +and measures eighteen inches round the body; +and his physiognomy justifies the description +given by one of the early narrators, who remarked, +that the Gymnotus <q>resembles one of +our common eels, except that its head is flat, +and its mouth wide, like that of a cat-fish, without +teeth.</q> It is certainly ugly enough. On +its first arrival in England, the proprietors offered +Professor Faraday (to whom this country +may possibly discover, within the next five +hundred years, that it owes something) the +privilege of experimenting upon him for scientific +purposes, and the result of a great number +of experiments, ingeniously devised, and executed +with great nicety, clearly proved the +identity between the electricity of the fish and +the common electricity. The shock, the circuit, +the spark, were distinctly obtained: the +galvanometer was sensibly affected; chemical +decompositions were obtained; an annealed +steel needle became magnetic, and the direction +of its polarity indicated a current from the anterior +to the posterior parts of the fish, through +the conductors used. The force with which +the electric discharge is made is also very considerable, +for this philosopher tells us we may +conclude that a single medium discharge of the +fish is at least equal to the electricity of a +Leyden Battery of fifteen jars, containing three +thousand five hundred square inches of glass, +coated upon both sides, charged to its highest +degree. But great as is the force of a single +discharge, the Gymnotus will sometimes give a +double, and even a triple shock, with scarcely +any interval. Nor is this all. The instinctive +action it has recourse to in order to augment +the force of the shock, is very remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +The professor one day dropped a live fish, +five inches long, into the tub; upon which the +Gymnotus turned round in such a manner as to +form a coil inclosing the fish, the latter representing +a diameter across it, and the fish +was struck motionless, as if lightning had +passed through the water. The Gymnotus then +made a turn to look for his prey, which having +found, he bolted it, and then went about seeking +for more. A second smaller fish was then +given him, which being hurt, showed little signs +of life; and this he swallowed apparently without +<q>shocking it.</q> We are informed by Dr. +Williamson, in a paper he communicated some +years ago to the Royal Society, that a fish already +struck motionless gave signs of returning +animation, which the Gymnotus observing, he +instantly discharged another shock, which killed +it. Another curious circumstance was observed +by Professor Faraday—the Gymnotus appeared +conscious of the difference of giving a shock to +an animate and an inanimate body, and would +not be provoked to discharge its powers upon +the latter. When tormented by a glass rod, +the creature in the first instance threw out a +shock, but as if he perceived his mistake, he +could not be stimulated afterward to repeat it, +although the moment the professor touched him +with his hands, he discharged shock after shock. +He refused, in like manner, to gratify the curiosity +of the philosophers, when they touched +him with metallic conductors, which he permitted +them to do with indifference. It is +worthy of observation, that this is the only specimen +of the Gymnotus Electricus ever brought +over alive into this country. The great secret +of preserving his life would appear to consist in +keeping the water at an even temperature—summer +and winter—of seventy-five degrees of +Fahrenheit. After having been subjected to a +great variety of experiments, the creature is +now permitted to enjoy the remainder of its days +in honorable peace, and the only occasion upon +which he is now disturbed, is when it is found +necessary to take him out of his shallow reservoir +to have it cleaned, when he discharges +angrily enough shock after shock, which the +attendants describe to be very smart, even +though he be held in several thick and well +wetted cloths, for they do not at all relish the +job. +</p> + +<p> +The Gymnotus Electricus is not the only +animal endowed with this very singular power; +there are other fish, especially the Torpedo and +Silurus, which are equally remarkable, and +equally well known. The peculiar structure +which enters into the formation of their electrical +organs, was first examined by the eminent +anatomist John Hunter, in the Torpedo; and, +very recently, Rudolphi has described their +structure with great exactness in the Gymnotus +Electricus. +</p> + +<p> +Without entering into minute details, the +peculiarity of the organic apparatus of the +Electrical Eel seems to consist in this, that +it is composed of numerous <foreign rend='italic'>laminæ</foreign> or thin +tendinous partitions, between which exists an +infinite number of small cells filled with a thickish +gelatinous fluid. These strata and cells are +supplied with nerves of unusual size, and the +intensity of the electrical power is presumed to +<pb n='600'/><anchor id='Pg600'/> +depend on the amount of nervous energy accumulated +in these cells, whence it can be +voluntarily discharged, just as a muscle may be +voluntarily contracted. Furthermore, there are, +it would appear, good reasons to believe that +nervous power (in whatever it may consist) and +electricity are identical. The progress of science +has already shown the identity between heat, +electricity, and magnetism; that heat may be +concentrated into electricity, and this electricity +reconverted into heat; that electric force may +be converted into magnetic force, and Professor +Faraday himself discovered how, by reacting +back again, the magnetic force can be reconverted +into the electric force, and <hi rend='italic'>vice versâ</hi>; +and should the identity between electricity and +nervous power be as clearly established, one of +the most important and interesting problems in +physiology will be solved. +</p> + +<p> +Every new discovery in science, and all improvements +in industrial art, the principles of +which are capable of being rendered in the +least degree interesting, are in this Exhibition +forthwith popularized, and become, as it were, +public property. Every individual of the great +public can at the very small cost of one shilling, +claim his or her share in the property thus attractively +collected, and a small amount of previous +knowledge or natural intelligence will put +the visitor in actual possession of treasures which +previously <q>he wot not of,</q> in so amusing a +manner that they will be beguiled rather than +bored into his mind. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>A Tuscan Vintage.</head> + +<p> +All Tuscany had been busy with the vintage. +The vintage! Is there a word more rich +to the untraveled Englishman in picturesque +significance and poetical associations? All that +the bright south has of glowing coloring, harmonious +forms, teeming abundance, and Saturnian +facility, mixed up in the imagination with +certain vague visions of bright black eyes and +bewitching ankles—all this, and more, goes to +the making up of the Englishman's notion of the +vintage. Alas! that it should be needful to +dissipate such charming illusions. And yet it +is well to warn those who cherish these <foreign rend='italic'>couleur-de-rose</foreign> +imaginings, and who would fain shun a +disagreeable <foreign rend='italic'>désenchantement</foreign>, that they will do +wisely in continuing to receive their impressions +of Italian ruralities from the presentations of our +theatres, and the description of Mrs. Radcliffe. +To those inquirers, however, of sterner mould, +who would find truth, be it ever so disagreeable +when found, it must be told that a Devonshire +harvesting is twice as pretty, and a Kentish +hop-picking thrice as pretty a scene as any +<q>vindemia</q> that the vineyards of Italy can show. +The vine, indeed, as grown in Italy—especially +when the fruit is ripe, and the leaves begin to +be tinted with crimson and yellow—is an exceedingly +pretty object, rich in coloring, and +elegant in its forms. Nothing but the most +obsolete and backward agriculture, however, +preserves these beauties. If good wine and not +pretty crops be the object in view, the vine +should be grown as in France—a low dwarf +plant closely pruned, and raised only two or +three feet from the ground; and than such a +vineyard nothing can be more ugly. Classic +Italy, however, still cultivates her vines as she +did when the Georgics were written; <q>marries</q> +them most becomingly and picturesquely +to elms or mulberries, &c, and makes of them +lovely festoons and very acrid wine. Again, it +must be admitted that a yoke of huge dove-colored +oxen, with their heavy unwieldy tumbril, +is a more picturesque object than an English +wagon and a team of horses. Occasionally, too, +may be seen bearing not ungracefully a blushing +burden of huge bunches, a figure, male or female, +who might have sat for a model to Leopold +Robert. But despite all this, the process of +gathering the vintage is any thing but a pleasing +sight. In one of the heavy tumbrils I have mentioned, +are placed some twelve or fifteen large +pails, some three feet deep, and a foot or so in +diameter. Into these are thrown pell-mell the +bunches of fruit, ripe and unripe, clean and dirty, +stalks and all, white and red indiscriminately. +The cart thus laden, the fifteen pails of unsightly, +dirty-looking slush, are driven to the <q>fattoria,</q> +there to be emptied into vats, which appear, +both to nose and eye, never to have been cleansed +since they were made. In performing this operation +much is of course spilt over the men employed, +over the cart, over the ground; and +nothing can look less agreeable than the effect +thus produced. Sometimes one large tub occupies +the whole tumbril, the contents of which, +on reaching the <q>fattoria,</q> have to be ladled +out with buckets. Often the contents of the +vat, trodden in one place—a most unsightly +process—have to be transported in huge barrels, +like water-carts, to another place to undergo +fermentation. And then the thick muddy stream, +laden with filth and impurities of all sorts, which +is seen when these barrels discharge their cargo, +is as little calculated to give one a pleasing idea +of the <q>ruby wine</q> which is to be the result of +all this filthy squash, as can well be imagined. +Add to this an exceedingly unpleasant smell in +and about all the buildings in which any part +of the wine-making process takes place, and the +constant recurrence of rotting heaps of the refuse +matter of the pressed grape under every wall +and hedge in the neighborhood of each <q>fattoria</q>—and +the notions connected with the so be-poetized +vintage, will be easily understood to be none +of the pleasantest in the minds of those acquainted +with its sights and smells.—<hi rend='italic'>Trollope's Impressions +of a Wanderer.</hi> +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='601'/><anchor id='Pg601'/> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>How To Make Home Unhealthy. +By Harriet Martineau.</head> + +<p> +Emperor Yao (very many years B.C.) +established a certain custom, which was +followed, we are told, by his successors on the +throne of China. The custom was this. Outside +the hall-door of his palace, he suspended a +tablet and a gong; and if one among his subjects +felt himself able to suggest a good idea to his +ruler, or wished to admonish him of any error +in his ways, the critic paid a visit to the palace, +wrote what he had to say upon the tablet, battered +at the gong, and ran away. The Emperor +came out; and then, unless it happened that +some scapegrace of a schoolboy had annoyed +him by superadding a fly-away knock to a contemptuous +hieroglyphic, he gravely profited by +any hint the tablets might convey. Not unlike +honest, patriarchal Yao is our British Public. It +is summoned out to read inscriptions at its door, +left there by all who have advice to give or +faults to deprecate. The successors of Yao, +finding upon their score so many conflicting +tales, soon substituted for the gong five instruments +of music. It was required, then, that +the monitor should distinguish, by the instrument +upon which he performed his summons, what +particular department of imperial duties it might +be to which he desired to call attention. Now +not five but fifty voices summon <emph>our</emph> royal public. +One man courts attention with a dulcet strain, +one brays, one harps upon a string, another +drums. And among those who have of late been +busiest in pointing errors out, and drumming at +the public's door to have them rectified, are they +who profess concern about the Public Health. +</p> + +<p> +For the writer who now proposes to address +to you, O excellent Public, through these pages, +a Series of Practical Hints as to How to make +Home Unhealthy, we would not have you +think that he means to be in any respect so +troublesome as those Sanitary Instructors. The +lion on your knocker gives him confidence; he +will leave no disconcerting messages; he will +seek to come into your parlor as a friend. A +friend he is; for, with a polite sincerity, he will +maintain in all his arguments that what you do +is what ought always to be done. He knows +well that you are not foolish, and perceives, +therefore, what end you have in view. He sees +that you are impressed deeply with a conviction +of the vanity of life; that you desire, accordingly, +to prove your wisdom by exhibiting contempt +for that which philosopher after philosopher forbids +a thoughtful man to cherish. You would +be proud to have Unhealthy Homes. Lusty +carcases, they are for coarse folk and for the +heathen; civilization forbids us to promote animal +development. How can a man look spiritual, +if he be not sickly? How can a woman—Is +not Paris the mode? Go, weigh an elegant +Parisienne against a peasant girl from Normandy. +It is here proposed, therefore, to honor +your discretion by demonstrating publicly how +right you are. Some of the many methods by +which one may succeed in making Home Unhealthy +will be here detailed to you, in order +that, as we go on, you may congratulate yourself +on feeling how extremely clever you already +are in your arrangements. Here is a plain purpose. +If any citizen, listening to such lessons, +think himself wise, and yet is one who, like good +M. Jourdain in the comedy, <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>n'applaudit qu'à +contresens</foreign>—to such a citizen it is enough to say. +May much good come of his perversity! +</p> + +<div> +<head>I. Hints To Hang Up In The Nursery.</head> + +<p> +In laying a foundation of ill health, it is a +great point to be able to begin at the beginning. +You have the future man at excellent advantage +when he is between your fingers as a baby. +One of Hoffman's heroines, a clever housewife, +discarded and abhorred her lover from the moment +of his cutting a yeast dumpling. There +are some little enormities of that kind which +really can not be forgiven, and one such is, to +miss the opportunity of physicking a baby. Now +I will tell you how to treat the future pale-face +at his first entrance into life. +</p> + +<p> +A little while before the birth of any child, +have a little something ready in a spoon; and, +after birth, be ready at the first opportunity, to +thrust this down his throat. Let his first gift +from his fellow-creatures be a dose of physic—honey +and calomel, or something of that kind: +but you had better ask the nurse for a prescription. +Have ready also, before birth, an abundant +stock of pins; for it is a great point, in +putting the first dress upon the little naked body, +to contrive that it shall contain as many pins as +possible. The prick of a sly pin is excellent +for making children cry; and since it may lead +nurses, mothers, now and then even doctors, to +administer physic for the cure of imaginary gripings +in the bowels, it may be twice blessed. +Sanitary enthusiasts are apt to say that strings, +not pins, are the right fastening for infants' +clothes. Be not misled. Is not the pincushion +an ancient institution? What is to say, <q>Welcome, +little stranger,</q> if pins cease to do so? +Resist this innovation. It is the small end of +the wedge. The next thing that a child would +do, if let alone, would be to sleep. I would not +suffer that. The poor thing must want feeding; +therefore waken it and make it eat a sop, for +that will be a pleasant joke at the expense of +nature. It will be like wakening a gentleman +after midnight to put into his mouth some pickled +herring; only the baby can not thank you for +your kindness as the gentleman might do. +</p> + +<p> +This is a golden rule concerning babies: to +procure sickly growth, let the child always suckle. +Attempt no regularity in nursing. It is true +that if an infant be fed at the breast every four +hours, it will fall into the habit of desiring food +only so often, and will sleep very tranquilly +during the interval. This may save trouble, +but it is a device for rearing healthy children: +we discard it. Our infants shall be nursed in +no new-fangled way. As for the child's crying, +<pb n='602'/><anchor id='Pg602'/> +quiet costs eighteen-pence a bottle; so that argument +is very soon disposed of. +</p> + +<p> +Never be without a flask of Godfrey's Cordial, +or Daffy, in the nursery; but the fact is, that +you ought to keep a medicine-chest. A good +deal of curious information may be obtained by +watching the effects of various medicines upon +your children. +</p> + +<p> +Never be guided by the child's teeth in weaning +it. Wean it before the first teeth are cut, +or after they have learned to bite. Wean all at +once, with bitter aloes or some similar devices; +and change the diet suddenly. It is a foolish +thing to ask a medical attendant how to regulate +the food of children; he is sure to be over-run +with bookish prejudices; but nurses are +practical women, who understand thoroughly +matters of this kind. +</p> + +<p> +Do not use a cot for infants, or presume beyond +the time-honored institution of the cradle. +Active rocking sends a child to sleep by causing +giddiness. Giddiness is a disturbance of the +blood's usual way of circulation; obviously, +therefore, it is a thing to aim at in our nurseries. +For elder children, swinging is an excellent +amusement, if they become giddy on the swing. +</p> + +<p> +In your nursery, a maid and two or three +children may conveniently be quartered for the +night, by all means carefully secured from +draughts. Never omit to use at night a chimney +board. The nursery window ought not to +be much opened; and the door should be kept +always shut, in order that the clamor of the +children may not annoy others in your house. +</p> + +<p> +When the children walk out for an airing, of +course they are to be little ladies and gentlemen. +They are not to scamper to and fro; a little +gentle amble with a hoop ought to be their +severest exercise. In sending them to walk +abroad, it is a good thing to let their legs be +bare. The gentleman papa, probably, would +find bare legs rather cold walking in the streets +of London; but the gentleman son, of course, +has quite another constitution. Besides, how +can a boy, not predisposed that way, hope to +grow up consumptive, if some pains are not +taken with him in his childhood? +</p> + +<p> +It is said that of old time children in the +Balearic Islands were not allowed to eat their +dinner, until, by adroitness in the shooting of +stones out of a sling, they had dislodged it from +a rafter in the house. Children in the British +Islands should be better treated. Let them not +only have their meals unfailingly, but let them +be at all other times tempted and bribed to eat. +Cakes and sweetmeats of alluring shape and +color, fruits, and palatable messes, should, without +any regularity, be added to the diet of a +child. The stomach, we know, requires three +or four hours to digest a meal, expects a moderate +routine of tasks, and between each task +looks for a little period of rest. Now, as we +hope to create a weak digestion, what is more +obvious than that we must use artifice to circumvent +the stomach? In one hour we must +come upon it unexpectedly with a dose of fruit +and sugar; then, if the regular dinner have +been taken, astonish the digestion, while at work +upon it, with the appearance of an extra lump +of cake, and presently some gooseberries. In +this way we soon triumph over Nature, who, to +speak truth, does not permit to us an easy victory, +and does try to accommodate her working +to our whims. We triumph, and obtain our +reward in children pale and polite, children with +appetites already formed, that will become our +good allies against their health in after life. +</p> + +<p> +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Principiis obsta.</foreign> Let us subdue mere nature +at her first start, and make her civilized in her +beginnings. Let us wipe the rose-tint out of +the child's cheek, in good hope that the man +will not be able to recover it. White, yellow, +and purple—let us make them to be his future +tricolor. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>II. The Londoner's Garden.</head> + +<p> +Brick walls do not secrete air. It comes in +through your doors and windows, from the streets +and alleys in your neighborhood; it comes in +without scraping its feet, and goes down your +throat, unwashed, with small respect for your +gentility. You must look abroad, therefore, for +some elements of an unwholesome home: and +when, sitting at home, you do so, it is a good +thing if you can see a burial-ground—one of +<q>God's gardens,</q> which our city cherishes. +</p> + +<p> +Now, do not look up with a dolorous face, +saying, <q>Alas! these gardens are to be taken +from us!</q> Let agitators write and let Commissioners +report, let Government nod its good-will, +and although all the world may think that +our London burial-grounds are about to be incontinently +jacketed in asphalte, and that we +ourselves, when dead, are to be steamed off to +Erith—we are content: at present this is only +gossip.<note place='foot'>Now it is fate. <hi rend='italic'>July</hi>, +1850.</note> On one of the lowest terraces of hell, +says Dante, he found a Cordelier, who had been +dragged thither by a logical demon, in defiance +of the expostulations of St. Francis. The sin +of that monk was a sentence of advice for which +absolution had been received before he gave it: +<q>Promise much, and perform little.</q> In the +hair of any Minister's head, and of every Commissioner's +head, we know not what <q>black +cherubim</q> may have entwined their claws. +There is hope, while there is life, for the old +cause. But if those who have authority to do +so really have determined to abolish intramural +burial, let us call upon them solemnly to reconsider +their verdict. Let them ponder what follows. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three years ago, a book, promulgating +notions upon spiritual life, was published in +London by the Chancellor of a certain place +across the Channel. It was a clever book; and, +among other matter, broached a theory. <q><emph>Our +souls,</emph></q> the Rev. Chancellor informed us, <q><emph>consist +of the essence, extract, or gas contained in +the human body</emph>;</q> and, that he might not be +<pb n='603'/><anchor id='Pg603'/> +vague, he made special application to a chemist, +who <q>added some important observations of his +own respecting the corpse after death.</q> But +we must decorate a great speculation with the +ornamental words of its propounder. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The gases into which the animal body is +resolved by putrefaction are ammonia, carbonic +acid, carbonic oxide, cyanogen, and sulphureted, +phosphureted, and carbureted hydrogen. The +first, and the two last-named gases, are most +abundant.</q> We omit here some details as to +the time a body takes in rotting. <q>From which +it appears, that these noble elements and rich +essences of humanity are too subtle and volatile +to continue long with the corpse; but soon disengage +themselves, and escape from it. After +which nothing remains but the foul refuse in the +vat; the mere <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>caput mortuum</foreign> in the crucible; +the vile dust and ashes of the tomb. Nor does +inhumation, however deep in the ground, nor +drowning in the lowest depths and darkest caverns +of the fathomless abyss, prevent those subtle +essences, rare attenuate spirits, or gases, from +escaping; or chain down to dust those better, +nobler elements of the human body. No bars +can imprison them; no vessels detain them from +their kindred element, confine them from their +native home.</q> +</p> + +<p> +We are all of us familiar with the more noticeable +of these <q>essences,</q> by smell, if not by +name. Metaphysicians tell us that perceptions +and ideas <emph>will</emph> follow in a train: perhaps that +may account for the sudden recollection of an +old-fashioned story—may the moderns pardon it. +A young Cambridge student, airing his wisdom +at a dinner-party, was ingenious upon the Theory +of Winds. He was most eloquent concerning +heat and cold; radiation, rarefaction; polar and +equatorial currents; he had brought his peroration +to a close, when he turned round upon a +grave Professor of his College, saying, <q>And +what, sir, do you believe to be the cause of +wind?</q> The learned man replied, <q>Pea-soup—pea-soup!</q> +In the group of friends around +a social soup-tureen, must we in future recognize +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>The feast of reason, and—the flow of soul!</q> +</quote> + +<p> +How gladly shall we fight the fight of life, hoping +that, after death, we shall meet in a world +of sulphureted hydrogen and other gases! And +where do the Sanitary Reformers suppose that, +after death, <emph>their</emph> gases will go—they who, in +life, with asphalte and paving-stones, would have +restrained the souls of their own fathers from +ascending into upper air? +</p> + +<p> +Against us let there be no such reproach. +Freely let us breathe into our bosoms some portion +of the spirit of the dead. If we live near +no church-yard, let us visit one—Mesmerically, +if you please. Now we are on the way. We +see narrow streets and many people; most of +the faces that we meet are pale. Here is a +walking funeral; we follow with it to the church-yard. +A corner is turned, and there is another +funeral to be perceived at no great distance in +advance. Our walkers trot. The other party, +finding itself almost overtaken, sets off with a +decent run. Our party runs. There is a race +for prior attention when they reach the ground. +We become interested. We perceive that one +undertaker wears gaiters, and the other straps. +We trot behind them, betting with each other, +you on Gaiters, I on Straps. I win; a <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>Deus ex +machinâ</foreign> saves me, or I should have lost. An +over-goaded ox rushes bewildered round a +corner, charges and overthrows the foremost +coffin; it is broken, and the body is exposed—its +white shroud flaps upon the mud. This has +occurred once, I know; and how much oftener, +I know not. So Gaiters pioneers his party to +the nearest undertaker for repairs, and we follow +the triumphant procession to the church-yard. +The minister there meets it, holding his +white handkerchief most closely to his nose: the +mourners imitate him, sick and sorrowful. Your +toe sticks in a bit of carrion, as we pass near the +grave and seek the sexton. He is a pimpled man, +who moralizes much; but his morality is maudlin. +He is drunk. He is accustomed to antagonize +the <q>spirits</q> of the dead with spirits from the +<q>Pig and Whistle.</q> Here let the <foreign rend='italic'>séance</foreign> end. +</p> + +<p> +At home again, let us remark upon a striking +fact. Those poor creatures whom we saw in sorrow +by the grave, believed that they were sowing +flesh to immortality—and so they were. +They did not know that they were also sowing +coffee. By a trustworthy informant, I am taught +that of the old coffin-wood dug up out of the +crowded church-yards, a large quantity that +is not burned, is dried and ground; and that +ground coffee is therewith adulterated in a +wholesale manner. It communicates to cheap +coffee a good color; and puts Body into it, there +can be no doubt of that. It will be a severe +blow to the trade in British coffees if intramural +interment be forbidden. We shall be driven to +depend upon distant planters for what now can +be produced in any quantity at home. +</p> + +<p> +Remember the largeness of the interests involved. +Within the last thirty years, a million +and a half of corpses have been hidden under +ground, in patches, here and there, among the +streets of London. This pasturage we have +enjoyed from our youth up, and it is threatened +now to put us off our feed. +</p> + +<p> +I say no more, for better arguments than these +can not be urged on behalf of the maintenance +of City grave-yards. Possibly these may not +prevail. Yet never droop. Nevertheless, without +despairing, take a house in the vicinity of +such a garden of the dead. If our lawgivers +should fear the becoming neighborly with Dante's +Cordelier, and therefore absolutely interdict more +burials in London, still you are safe. They shall +not trample on the graves that are. We can +agitate, and we will agitate successfully against +their asphalte. Let the City be mindful of its old +renown; let Vestries rally round Sir Peter Laurie, +and there may be yet secured to you, for +seven years to come, an atmosphere which shall +assist in making Home Unhealthy. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='604'/><anchor id='Pg604'/> + +<div> +<head>III. Spending A Very Pleasant Evening.</head> + +<p> +By the consent of antiquity, it is determined +that Pain shall be doorkeeper to the house of +Pleasure. In Europe Purgatory led to Paradise; +and, had St. Symeon lived among us now, he +would have earned heaven, if the police permitted, +by praying for it, during thirty years, upon +the summit of a lamp-post. In India the Fakir +was beatified by standing on his head, under a +hot sun, beset with roasting bonfires. In Greenland +the soul expected to reach bliss by sliding +for five days down a rugged rock, wounding +itself, and shivering with cold. The American +Indians sought happiness through castigation, +and considered vomits the most expeditious +mode of enforcing self-denial on the stomach. +Some tribes of Africans believe, that on the +way to heaven every man's head is knocked +against a wall. By consent of mankind, therefore, +it is granted that we must pass Pain on +the way to Pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +What Pleasure is, when reached, none but +the dogmatical can venture to determine. To +Greenlanders, a spacious fish-kettle, forever simmering, +in which boiled seals forever swim, is +the delight of heaven. And remember that, in +the opinion of M. Bailly, Adam and Eve gardened +in Nova Zembla. +</p> + +<p> +You will not be surprised, therefore, if I call +upon you to prepare for your domestic pleasures +with a little suffering; nor, when I tell you what +such pleasures are, must you exclaim against +them as absurd. Having the sanction of our +forefathers, they are what is fashionable now, +and consequently they are what is fit. +</p> + +<p> +I propose, then, that you should give, for the +entertainment of your friends, an Evening Party; +and as this is a scene in which young ladies prominently +figure, I will, if you please, on this occasion, +pay particular attention to your daughter. +</p> + +<p> +O mystery of preparation!—Pardon, sir. You +err if you suppose me to insinuate that ladies +are more careful over personal adornment than +the gentlemen. When men made a display of +manhood, wearing beards, it is recorded that +they packed them, when they went to bed, in +pasteboard cases, lest they might be tumbled in +the night. Man at his grimmest is as vain as +woman, even when he stalks about bearded and +battle-axed. This is the mystery of preparation +in your daughter's case: How does she breathe? +You have prepared her from childhood for the +part she is to play to-night, by training her form +into the only shape which can be looked at with +complacency in any ball-room. A machine, called +stays, introduced long since into England +by the Normans, has had her in its grip from +early girlhood. She has become pale, and—only +the least bit—liable to be blue about the +nose and fingers. +</p> + +<p> +Stays are an excellent contrivance; they give +a material support to the old cause, Unhealthiness +at Home. This is the secret of their excellence. +A woman's ribs are narrow at the +top, and as they approach the waist they widen, +to allow room for the lungs to play within them. +If you can prevent the ribs from widening, you +can prevent the lungs from playing, which they +have no right to do, and make them work. This +you accomplish by the agency of stays. It fortunately +happens that these lungs have work to +do—the putting of the breath of life into the +blood—which they are unable to do properly +when cramped for space; it becomes about as +difficult to them as it would be to you to play +the trombone in a china closet. By this compression +of the chest, ladies are made nervous, +and become unfit for much exertion; they do +not, however, allow us to suppose that they have +lost flesh. There is a fiction of attire which +would induce, in a speculative critic, the belief +that some internal flame had caused their waists +to gutter, and that the ribs had all run down +into a lump which protrudes behind under the +waistband. This appearance is, I think, a fiction; +and for my opinion I have newspaper +authority. In the papers it was written, one +day last year, that the hump alluded to was +tested with a pin, upon the person of a lady, +coming from the Isle of Man, and it was found +not to be sensitive. Brandy exuded from the +wound; for in that case the projection was a +bladder, in which the prudent housewife was +smuggling comfort in a quiet way. The touch +of a pin changed all into discomfort, when she +found that she was converted into a peripatetic +watering-can—brandying-can, I should have said. +</p> + +<p> +Your daughter comes down stairs dressed, with +a bouquet, at a time when the dull seeker of +Health and Strength would have her to go up +stairs with a bed-candlestick. Your guests arrive. +Young ladies, thinly clad and packed in +carriages, emerge, half-stifled; put a cold foot, +protected by a filmy shoe, upon the pavement, +and run, shivering, into your house. Well, sir, +we'll warm them presently. But suffer me to +leave you now, while you receive your guests. +</p> + +<p> +I know a Phyllis, fresh from the country, who +gets up at six and goes to bed at ten; who knows +no perfume but a flower-garden, and has worn +no bandage to her waist except a sash. She is +now in London, and desires to do as others do. +She is invited to your party, but is not yet come; +it may be well for me to call upon her. Why, +in the name of Newgate, what is going on? +She is shrieking <q>Murder!</q> on the second floor. +Up to the rescue! A judicious maid directs me +to the drawing-room: <q>It's only miss a-trying +on her stays.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Here we are, sir; Phyllis and I. You find +the room oppressive—'tis with perfume, Phyllis. +With foul air? ah, your nice country nose detects +it; yes, there is foul air: not nasty, of +course, my dear, mixed, as it here is, with eau-de-Cologne +and patchouli. Pills are not nasty, +sugared. A grain or two of arsenic in each +might be not quite exactly neutralized by sugar, +but there is nothing like faith in a good digestion. +Why do the gentlemen cuddle the ladies, and +spin about the room with them, like tee-totums? +<pb n='605'/><anchor id='Pg605'/> +Oh, Phyllis! Phyllis! let me waltz with you. +There, do you not see how it is? Faint, are +you—giddy—will you fall? An ice will refresh +you. Spasms next! Phyllis, let me take +you home. +</p> + +<p> +Now then, sir, Phyllis has been put to bed; +allow me to dance a polka with your daughter. +Frail, elegant creature that she is! A glass of +wine—a macaroon: good. Sontag, yes; and +that dear novel. That was a delightful dance; +now let us promenade. The room is close; a +glass of wine, an ice, and let us get to the delicious +draught in the conservatory, or by that door. +Is it not beautiful? The next quadrille—I look +slily at my watch, and Auber's grim chorus +rumbles within me, <q><foreign rend='italic'>Voici minuit! voici minuit</foreign>!</q> +Another dance. How fond she seems +to be of macaroons! Supper. My dear sir, I +will take good care of your daughter. One +sandwich. Champagne. Blanc-mange. Tipsey-cake. +Brandy cherries. Glass of wine. A +macaroon. Trifle. Jelly. Champagne. Custard. +Macaroon. The ladies are being taken +care of—Yes, now in their absence we will +drink their health, and wink at each other: +their and our Bad Healths. This is the happiest +moment of our lives; at two in the morning, +with a dose of indigestion in the stomach, +and three hours more to come before we +get to bed. You, my dear sir, hope that on +many occasions like the present you may see +your friends around you, looking as glassy-eyed +as you have made them to look now. We will +rejoin the ladies. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing but Champagne could have enabled +us to keep up the evening so well. We were +getting weary before supper—but we have had +some wine, have dug the spur into our sides, +and on we go again. At length, even the bottle +stimulates our worn-out company no more; +and then we separate. Good-night, dear sir; +we have spent a Very Pleasant Evening under +your roof. +</p> + +<p> +To-morrow, when you depart from a late +breakfast, having seen your daughter's face, and +her boiled-mackerel eye, knowing that your +wife is bilious, and that your son has just gone +out for soda-water, you will feel yourself to be +a Briton who has done his duty, a man who has +paid something on account of his great debt to +civilized society. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>IV. The Light Nuisance.</head> + +<p> +Tieck tells us, in his <q>History of the Schildbürger,</q> +that the town council of that spirited +community was very wise. It had been noticed +that many worthy aldermen and common-councilors +were in the habit of looking out of window +when they ought to be attending to their duties. +A vote was therefore, on one occasion, passed +by a large majority, to this effect, namely—Whereas +the windows of the Town-hall are a +great impediment to the dispatch of public business, +it is ordered that before the next day of +meeting they be all bricked up. When the +next day of meeting came, the worthy representatives +of Schildbürg were surprised to find +themselves assembling in the dark. Presently, +accepting the unlooked-for fact, they settled +down into an edifying discussion of the question, +whether darkness was not more convenient for +their purposes than daylight. Had you and I +been there, my friend, our votes in the division +would have been, like the vote in our own +House of Commons a few days ago, for keeping +out the Light Nuisance as much as possible. +Darkness is better than daylight, certainly. +</p> + +<p> +Now this admits of proof. For, let me ask, +where do you find the best part of a lettuce?—not +in the outside leaves. Which are the choice +parts of celery?—of course, the white shoots in +the middle. Why, sir? Because light has +never come to them. They become white and +luxurious by tying up, by earthing up, by any +contrivance which has kept the sun at bay. It +is the same with man: while we obstruct the +light by putting brick and board where glass +suggests itself, and mock the light by picturing +impracticable windows on our outside walls—so +that our houses stare about like blind men with +glass eyes—while this is done, we sit at home +and blanch, we become in our dim apartments +pale and delicate, we grow to look refined, as +gentlemen and ladies ought to look. Let the +sanitary doctor, at whose head we have thrown +lettuces, go to the botanist and ask him, How, +is this? Let him come back and tell us, Oh, +gentlemen, in these vegetables the natural juices +are not formed when you exclude the light. The +natural juices in the lettuce or in celery are flavored +much more strongly than our tastes would +relish, and therefore we induce in these plants +an imperfect development, in order to make them +eatable. Very well. The natural juices in a +man are stronger than good taste can tolerate. +Man requires horticulture to be fit to come to +table. To rear the finer sorts of human kind, +one great operation necessary is to banish light +as much as possible. +</p> + +<p> +Ladies know that. To keep their faces pale, +they pull the blinds down in their drawing-rooms, +they put a vail between their countenances +and the sun when they go out, and carry, like +good soldiers, a great shield on high, by name +a Parasol, to ward his darts off. They know +better than to let the old god kiss them into +color, as he does the peaches. They choose to +remain green fruit: and we all know that to be +a delicacy. +</p> + +<p> +Yet there are men among us daring to propose +that there shall no longer be protection +against light; men who would tax a house by +its capaciousness, and let the sun shine into it unhindered. +The so-called sanitary people really +seem to look upon their fellow-creatures as so +many cucumbers. But we have not yet fallen +so far back in our development. Disease is a +privilege. Those only who know the tender +touch of a wife's hand, the quiet kiss, the soothing +whisper, can appreciate its worth. All who +are not dead to the tenderest emotions will lament +<pb n='606'/><anchor id='Pg606'/> +the day when light is turned on without +limit in our houses. We have no wish to be +blazed upon. Frequently pestilence itself avoids +the sunny side of any street, and prefers walking +in the shade. Nay, even in one building, as in +the case of a great barrack at St. Petersburg, +there will be three calls made by disease upon +the shady side of the establishment for every +one visit that it pays to the side brightened by +the sun; and this is known to happen uniformly, +for a series of years. Let us be warned, then. +There must be no increase of windows in our +houses; let us curtain those we have, and keep +our blinds well down. Let morning sun or +afternoon sun fire no volleys in upon us. Faded +curtains, faded carpets, all ye blinds forbid! But +faded faces are desirable. It is a cheering spectacle +on summer afternoons to see the bright +rays beating on a row of windows, all the way +down a street, and failing to find entrance any +where. Who wants more windows? Is it not +obvious that, when daylight really comes, every +window we possess is counted one too many? +If we could send up a large balloon into the sky, +with Mr. Braidwood and a fire-engine, to get the +flames of the sun under, just a little bit, that +would be something rational. More light, indeed! +More water next, no doubt! As if it +were not perfectly notorious that in the articles +of light, water, and air, Nature outran the constable. +We have to keep out light with blinds +and vails, and various machinery, as we would +keep out cockroaches with wafers; we keep out +air with pads and curtains; and still there are +impertinent reformers clamoring to increase our +difficulty, by giving us more windows to protect +against the inroads of those household nuisances. +</p> + +<p> +I call upon consistent Englishmen to make a +stand against these innovators. There is need +of all our vigor. In 1848, the repeal of the +window-tax was scouted from the Commons by +a sensible majority of ninety-four. In 1850, the +good cause has triumphed only by a precarious +majority of three. The exertions of right-thinking +men will not be wanting, when the +value and importance of a little energetic labor +is once clearly perceived. +</p> + +<p> +What is it that the sanitary agitators want? +To tan and freckle all their countrywomen, and +to make Britons apple-faced? The Persian +hero, Rustum, when a baby, exhausted seven +nurses, and was weaned upon seven sheep a +day, when he was of age for spoon-meat. Are +English babies to be Rustums? When Rustum's +mother, Roubadah, from a high tower +first saw and admired her future husband Zal, +she let her ringlets fall, and they were long, +and reached unto the ground; and Zal climbed +up by them, and knelt down at her feet, and +asked to marry her. Are British ladies to be +strengthened into Roubadahs, with hair like a +ship's cable, up which husbands may clamber? +In the present state of the mania for public +health, it is quite time that every patriotic man +should put these questions seriously to his conscience. +</p> + +<p> +One topic more. Let it clearly be understood, +that against artificial light we can make +no objection. Between sun and candle there +are more contrasts than the mere difference in +brilliancy. The light which comes down from +the sky not only eats no air out of our mouths, +but it comes charged with mysterious and subtle +principles which have a purifying, vivifying +power. It is a powerful ally of health, and we +make war against it. But artificial light contains +no sanitary marvels. When the gas +streams through half a dozen jets into your +room, and burns there and gives light; when +candles become shorter and shorter, until they +are <q>burnt out</q> and seen no more; you know +what happens. Nothing in Nature ceases to +exist. Your camphine has left the lamp, but it +has not vanished out of being. Nor has it +been converted into light. Light is a visible +action; and candles are no more converted into +light when they are burning, than breath is converted +into speech when you are talking. The +breath, having produced speech, mixes with the +atmosphere; gas, camphine, candles, having +produced light, do the same. If you saw fifty +wax-lights shrink to their sockets last week in +an unventilated ball-room, yet, though invisible, +they had not left you; for their elements were +in the room, and you were breathing them. +Their light had been a sign that they were +combining chemically with the air; in so combining +they were changed, but they became a +poison. Every artificial light is, of necessity, a +little workshop for the conversion of gas, oil, +spirit, or candle into respirable poison. Let no +sanitary tongue persuade you that the more we +have of such a process, the more need we have +of ventilation. Ventilation is a catchword for +the use of agitators, in which it does not become +any person of refinement to exhibit interest. +</p> + +<p> +The following hint will be received thankfully +by gentlemen who would be glad to merit +spectacles. To make your eyes weak, use a +fluctuating light; nothing can be better adapted +for your purpose than what are called <q>mould</q> +candles. The joke of them consists in this, +they begin with giving you sufficient light; but, +as the wick grows, the radiance lessens, and +your eye gradually accommodates itself to the +decrease: suddenly they are snuffed, and your +eye leaps back to its original adjustment, there +begins another slide, and then leaps back again. +Much practice of this kind serves very well as +a familiar introduction to the use of glasses. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>V. Passing The Bottle.</head> + +<p> +A brass button from the coat of Saint Peter, +was at one time shown to visitors among the +treasures of a certain church in Nassau; possibly +some traveler of more experience may have +met with a false collar from the wardrobe of +Saint Paul. The intellect displayed of old by +holy saints and martyrs, we may reasonably +believe to have surpassed the measure of a +bishop's understanding in the present day; for +<pb n='607'/><anchor id='Pg607'/> +we have the authority of eyesight and tradition +in asserting that the meanest of those ancient +worthies possessed not less than three skulls, +and that a great saint must have had so very +many heads, that it would have built the fortune +of a man to be his hatter. Perhaps some of +these relics are fictitious; nevertheless, they +are the boast of their possessors; they are exhibited +as genuine, and thoroughly believed to +be so. Sir, did your stomach never suggest to +you that doctored elder-berry of a recent brew +had been uncorked with veneration at some +dinner-table as a bottle of old port? Have you +experience of any festive friend, who can commit +himself to doubt about the age and genuineness +of his wine? The cellar is the social +relic-chamber; every bin rejoices in a most +veracious legend; and, whether it be over wine +or over relics that we wonder, equal difficulties +start up to obstruct our faith. +</p> + +<p> +Our prejudices, for example, run so much in +favor of one-headed men, that we can scarcely +entertain the notion of a saint who had six +night-caps to put on when he went to bed, and +when he got up in the morning had six beards +to shave. Knowing that the Russians, by +themselves, drink more Champagne than France +exports, and that it must rain grapes at Hockheim +before that place can yield all the wine we +English label Hock, and haunted as we are by +the same difficulty when we look to other kinds +of foreign wine, we feel a justified suspicion that +the same glass of <q>genuine old port</q> can not +be indulged in simultaneously by ten people. +If only one man of the number drinks it, what +is that eidolon which delights the other nine? +</p> + +<p> +When George the Fourth was Regent, he +possessed a small store of the choicest wine, and +never called for it. There were some gentlemen +in his establishment acquainted with its +merits; these took upon themselves to rescue +it from undeserved neglect. Then the prince +talked about his treasure—when little remained +thereof except the bottles; and it was to be produced +at a forthcoming dinner-party. The gentlemen, +who knew its flavor, visited the vaults +of an extensive wine-merchant, and there they +vainly sought to look upon its like again. <q>In +those dim solitudes and awful cells</q> they, +groaning in spirit, made a confessor of the merchant, +who, for a fee, engaged to save them from +the wrath to come. As an artist in wine, having +obtained a sample of the stuff required, this +dealer undertook to furnish a successful imitation. +So he did; for, having filled those bottles +with a wondrous compound, he sent them to the +palace just before the fateful dinner-hour, exhorting +the conspirators to take heed how they +suffered any to be left. The compound would +become a tell-tale after twelve hours' keeping. +The prince that evening enjoyed his wine. +</p> + +<p> +The ordinary manufacture of choice wine for +people who are not princes, requires the following +ingredients: for the original fluid, cider, or +Common cape, raisin, grape, parsnip, or elder +wine; a wine made of rhubarb (for Champagne); +to these may be added water. A fit stock having +been chosen, strength, color, and flavor may +be grafted on it. Use is made of these materials: +for color-burnt sugar, logwood, cochineal, +red sanders wood, or elder-berries. Plain +spirit or brandy for strength. For nutty flavor, +bitter almonds. For fruitiness, Dantzic spruce. +For fullness or smoothness, honey. For port-wine +flavor, tincture of the seeds of raisins. For +bouquet, orris root or ambergris. For roughness +or dryness, alum, oak sawdust, rhatany or +kino. It is not necessary that an imitation +should contain one drop of the wine whose name +it bears; but a skillful combination of the true +and false is desirable, if price permit. Every +pint of the pure wine thus added to a mixture +is, of course, so much abstracted from the stock +of unadulterated juice. +</p> + +<p> +You will perceive, therefore, that a free use +of wine, not highly priced, is likely to assist us +very much in our endeavors to establish an unhealthy +home. Fill your cellar with bargains; +be a genuine John Bull; invite your friends, +and pass the bottle. +</p> + +<p> +There is hope for us also in the recollection, +that if chance force upon us a small stock of +wine that has not been, in England, under the +doctor's hands, we know not what may have +been done to it abroad. The botanist, Robert +Fortune, was in China when the Americans +deluged the Chinese market with their orders +for Young Hyson tea. The Chinese very +promptly met the whole demand; and Fortune +in his <q>Wanderings</q> has told us how. He +found his way to a Young Hyson manufactory, +where coarse old Congou leaves were being +chopped, and carefully manipulated by those +ingenious merchants the Chinese. But it is in +human nature for other folks than the Chinese +to be ingenious in such matters. We may, +therefore, make up our minds that, since the +demand for wine from certain celebrated vineyards, +largely exceeds all possibility of genuine +supply, since, also, every man who asks is satisfied, +it is inevitable that the great majority of +wine-drinkers are satisfied with a factitious +article. The chances are against our very often +meeting with a glass of port that has not taken +physic. So, let us never drink dear wine, nor +ask a chemist what is in our bottles. Enough +that they contain for us delightful poison. +</p> + +<p> +That name for wine, <q>delightful poison,</q> is +not new. It is as old as the foundation of Persepolis. +Jemsheed was fond of grapes, Ferdusi +tells, and once, when grapes went out of season, +stored up for himself some jars of grape-juice. +After a while he went to seek for a refreshing +draught; then fermentation was in progress; +and he found his juice abominably nasty. A +severe stomach-ache induced him to believe that +the liquor had acquired, in some way, dangerous +qualities, and, therefore, to avoid accidents, he +labeled each jar, <q>Poison.</q> More time elapsed, +and then one of his wives, in trouble of soul, +weary of life, resolved to put an end to her existence. +Poison was handy: but a draught +<pb n='608'/><anchor id='Pg608'/> +transformed her trouble into joy; more of it +stupefied, but did not kill her. That woman +kept a secret: she alone exhausted all the jars. +Jemsheed then found them to be empty. Explanations +followed. The experiment was tried +once more, and wine, being so discovered, was +thereafter entitled <q>the delightful poison.</q> +What Jemsheed would have said to a bottle of +port out of our friend Hoggin's cellar—but I +tread on sacred ground. +</p> + +<p> +Of good wine health requires none, though it +will tolerate a little. Our prospect, therefore, +when the bottle passes briskly, is encouraging. +Is the wine good, we may expect some indigestion; +is it bad, who can tell what disorders we +may not expect? Hoggins, I know, drinks +more than a quart without disordering his +stomach. He has long been a supporter of the +cause we are now advocating, and therein finds +one of his rewards. It is not safe to pinch a +tiger's tail; yet, when the animal is sick, perhaps +he will not bite although you tread upon +it heavily. Healthy men and healthy stomachs +tolerate no oppression. +</p> + +<p> +London is full now; elsewhere country folks +come out of doors, invited by fine weather. +Walk where you will, in country or in town, +and look at all the faces that you meet. Traverse +the Strand, and Regent-street, and Holborn, +and Cheapside; get into a boat at London +bridge, steam to Gravesend, and look at your +fellow-passengers: examine where you will, +the stamp of our civilization, sickliness, is upon +nine people in any ten. There are good reasons +why this should be so, and so let it continue. +We have excluded sanitary calculations from +our social life; we have had hitherto unhealthy +homes, and we will keep them. Bede tells of a +Mercian noble on his death-bed, to whom a +ghost exhibited a scrap of paper, upon which +were written his good deeds; then the door +opened, and an interminable file of ghosts +brought in a mile or two of scroll, whereon his +misdeeds were all registered, and made him +read them. Our wars against brute health are +glorious, and we rejoice to feel that of such sins +we have no scanty catalogue; we are content +with our few items of mere sanitary virtue. +As for sanitary reformers, they are a company +of Danaids; they may get some of us into their +sieve, but we shall soon slip out again. When +a traveler proposed, at Ghadames in the Sahara, +to put up a lantern here and there of nights +among the pitch-dark streets, the people said +his notion might be good, but that, as such +things never had been tried before, it would be +presumptuous to make the trial of them now. +The traveler, a Briton, must have felt quite at +home when he heard that objection. Amen, +then; with the Ghadamese, we say, Let us +have no New Lights. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>VI. Art Against Appetite.</head> + +<p> +The object of food is, to support the body in +its natural development that it may reach a +reasonable age without becoming too robust. +Civilization can instruct us so to manage, that +a gentle dissolution tread upon the heels of +growth, that, as Metastasio hath it, +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l rend='margin-left: 16'>—<q rend='pre'>dalle fasce,</q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>Si comincia a morir quando si nasce.</q><note place='foot'>——From +swaddling-clothes,<lb/> +Dying begins at birth.</note></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +An infant's appetite is all for milk; but art +suggests a few additions to that lamentably +simple diet. A lady not long since complacently +informed her medical attendant that, for +the use of a baby, then about eight months old +she had spent nine pounds in <q>Infant's Preservative.</q> +Of this, or of some like preparation, +the advertisements tells us that it compels Nature +to be orderly, and that all infants take it with +greediness. So we have even justice to the child. +Pet drinks Preservative; papa drinks Port. +</p> + +<p> +Then there is <q>farinaceous food.</q> Here, +for a purpose, we must interpolate a bit of +science. There is a division of food into two +great classes, nourishment and fuel. Nourishment +is said to exist chiefly in animal flesh and +blood, and in vegetable compounds which exactly +correspond thereto, called vegetable fibrine, +albumen, and caseine. Fuel exists in whatever +contains much carbon: fat and starchy vegetables, +potatoes, gum, sugar, alcoholic liquors. If +a person take more nourishment than he wants, +it is said to be wasted; if he take more fuel than +he wants, part of it is wasted, and part of it the +body stacks away as fat. These men of science +furthermore assert, that the correct diet of a +healthy man must contain eight parts of fuel +food to one of nourishment. This preserves +equilibrium, they say—suits, therefore, an adult; +the child which has to become bigger as it lives +has use for an excess of nourishment. And so +one of the doctors, Dr. R.D. Thomson, gives +this table; it has been often copied. The proportion +of nourishment to fuel is in +</p> + +<table rend="latexcolumns: 'p{2cm} p{2cm}'; tblcolumns: 'lw(20) lw(10)'"> +<row><cell>Milk (food for a growing animal)</cell><cell>1 to 2.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Beans</cell><cell>1 to 2-1/2.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Oatmeal</cell><cell>1 to 5.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Barley</cell><cell>1 to 7.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Wheat flour (food for an animal at rest)</cell><cell>1 to 8.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Potatoes</cell><cell>1 to 9.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Rice</cell><cell>1 to 10.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Turnips</cell><cell>1 to 11.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Arrow-root, tapioca, sago</cell><cell>1 to 26.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Starch</cell><cell>1 to 40.</cell></row> +</table> + +<p> +Very well, gentlemen, we take your facts. +As ægritudinary men, we know what use to +make of them. We will give infants farinaceous +food; arrow-root, tapioca, and the like; quite +ready to be taught by you that so we give one +particle of nourishment in twenty-six. Tell us, +this diet is like putting leeches on a child. We +are content. Leeches give a delicate whiteness +that we are thankful to be able to obtain with +out the biting or the bloodshed. +</p> + +<p> +Sanitary people will allow a child, up to its +seventh year, nothing beyond bread, milk, water, +sugar, light meat broth, without fat, and fresh +<pb n='609'/><anchor id='Pg609'/> +meat for its dinner—when it is old enough to +bite it—with a little well-cooked vegetable. +They confine a child, poor creature, to this +miserable fare; permitting, in due season, only +a pittance of the ripest fruit. +</p> + +<p> +They would give children, while they are +growing, oatmeal and milk for breakfast, made +into a porridge. They would deny them beer. +You know how strengthening that is, and yet +these people say that there is not an ounce of +meat in a whole bucketful. They would deny +them comfits, cakes, wine, pastry, and grudge +them nuts; but our boys shall rebel against all +this. We will teach them to regard cake as +bliss, and wine as glory; we will educate them +to a love of tarts. Once let our art secure over +the stomach its ascendency, and the civilized +organ acquires new desires. Vitiated cravings, +let the sanitary doctors call them; let them say +that children will eat garbage, as young women +will eat chalk and coals, not because it is their +nature so to do, but because it is a symptom of +disordered function. We know nothing about +function. Art against Appetite has won the day, +and the pale face of civilization is established. +</p> + +<p> +Plain sugar, it is a good thing to forbid our +children; there is something healthy in their +love of it. Suppose we tell them that it spoils +the teeth. They know no better; we do. We +know that the negroes, who in a great measure +live upon sugar, are quite famous for their sound +white teeth; and Mr. Richardson tells us of +tribes among the Arabs of Sahara, whose beautiful +teeth he lauds, that they are in the habit +of keeping about them a stick of sugar in a +leathern case, which they bring out from time +to time for a suck, as we bring out the snuff-box +for a pinch. But we will tell our children +that plain sugar spoils the teeth; sugar mixed +with chalk or verdigris, or any other mess—that +is to say, civilized sugar—they are welcome to. +</p> + +<p> +And for ourselves, we will eat any thing. +The more our cooks, with spice, with druggery +and pastry, raise our wonder up, the more we +will approve their handicraft. We will excite +the stomach with a peppered soup; we will +make fish indigestible with melted butter, and +correct the butter with cayenne. We will take +sauces, we will drink wine, we will drink beer, +we will eat pie-crust, we will eat indescribable +productions—we will take celery, and cheese, +and ale—we will take liqueur—we will take +wine and olives and more wine, and oranges +and almonds, and any thing else that may present +itself, and we will call all that our dinner, +and for such the stomach shall accept it. We +will eat more than we need, but will compel an +appetite. Art against Appetite forever. +</p> + +<p> +Sanitary people bear ill-will to pie-crust; they +teach that butter, after being baked therein, becomes +a compound hateful to the stomach. We +will eat pies, we will eat pastry, we will eat—we +would eat M. Soyer himself in a tart, if it +were possible. +</p> + +<p> +We will uphold London milk. Mr. Rugg says +that it is apt to contain chalk, the brains of sheep, +oxen, and cows, flour, starch, treacle, whiting, +sugar of lead, arnotto, size, etc. Who cares for +Mr. Rugg? London milk is better than country +milk, for London cows are town cows. They +live in a city, in close sheds, in our own dear +alleys—are consumptive—they are delightful +cows; only their milk is too strong, it requires +watering and doctoring, and then it is delicious +milk. +</p> + +<p> +Tea we are not quite sure about. Some +people say that because tea took so sudden a +hold upon the human appetite, because it spread +so widely in so short a time, that therefore it +supplies a want: its use is natural. Liebig +suggests that it supplies a constituent of bile. +I think rather that its use has become general +because it causes innocent intoxication. Few +men are not glad to be made cheerful harmlessly. +For this reason I think it is that the use of +tea and coffee has become popular; and since +whatever sustains cheerfulness advances health—the +body working with good will under a +pleasant master—tea does our service little +good. In excess, no doubt, it can be rendered +hurtful (so can bread and butter); but the best +way of pressing it into employment, as an ægritudinary +aid, is by the practice of taking it extremely +hot. A few observations upon the +temperature at which food is refused by all the +lower animals, will soon convince you that in +man—not as regards tea only, but in a great +many respects—Art has established her own +rule, and that the Appetite of Nature has been +conquered. +</p> + +<p> +We have a great respect for alcoholic liquors. +It has been seen that the excess of these makes +fat; they, therefore, who have least need of fat, +according to our rules, are those who have most +need of wine and beer. +</p> + +<p> +Of ordinary meats there is not much to say, +We have read of Dr. Beaumont's servant, who +had an open musket-hole leading into his stomach, +through which the doctor made experiments. +Many experiments were made, and tables drawn +of no great value on the digestibility of divers +kinds of meat. Climate and habit are, on such +points, paramount. Pig is pollution to the +children of the Sun, the Jew, and Mussulman; +but children of winter, the Scandinavians, could +not imagine Paradise complete without it. +Schrimner, the sacred hog, cut up daily and +eaten by the tenants of Walhalla, collected his +fragments in the night, and was in his sty again +ready for slaughter the next morning. These +things concern us little, for it is not with plain +meat that we have here to do, but with the noble +art of Cookery. That art, which once obeyed +and now commands our appetite, which is become +the teacher where it was the taught, we +duly reverence. When ægritudinary science +shall obtain its college, and when each Unhealthy +Course shall have its eminent professor +to teach Theory and Practice—then we shall +have a Court of Aldermen for Patrons, a Gravedigger +for Principal, and a Cook shall be Dean +of Faculty. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='610'/><anchor id='Pg610'/> + +<div> +<head>VII. The Water Party.</head> + +<p> +Water rains from heaven, and leaps out of +the earth; it rolls about the land in rivers, it +accumulates in lakes; three-fourths of the whole +surface of the globe is water; yet there are +men unable to be clean. <q>God loveth the +clean,</q> said Mahomet. He was a sanitary +reformer; he was a notorious impostor; and it +is our duty to resist any insidious attempt to +introduce his doctrines. +</p> + +<p> +There are in London districts of filth which +speak to us—through the nose—in an emphatic +manner. Their foul air is an atmosphere of +charity; for we pass through it pitying the +poor. Burke said of a certain miser to whom +an estate was left, <q>that now, it was to be +hoped, he would set up a pocket-handkerchief.</q> +We hope, of the miserable, that when they come +into their property they may be able to afford +themselves a little lavender and musk. We +might be willing to subscribe for the correction +now and then, with aromatic cachou, of the +town's bad breath; but water is a vulgar sort +of thing, and of vulgarity the less we have the +better. +</p> + +<p> +In truth, we have not much of it. We are +told that in a great city Water is maid of all +work; has to assist our manufactures, to supply +daily our saucepans and our tea-kettles; has to +cleanse our clothes, our persons, and our houses; +to provide baths, to wash our streets, and to +flood away the daily refuse of the people, with +their slaughter-houses, markets, hospitals, &c. +Our dozen reservoirs in London yield a supply +daily averaging thirty gallons to each head—which +goes partly to make swamps, partly to +waste, partly to rot, as it is used in tubs or cisterns. +Rome in her pride used once to supply +water at the rate of more than three hundred +gallons daily to each citizen. That was excess. +In London half a million of people get no water +at all into their houses; but as those people +live in the back settlements, and keep out of +our sight, their dirt is no great matter of concern. +We, for our own parts, have enough +to cook with, have whereof to drink, wherewith +to wash our feet sometimes, to wet our fingers +and the corner of a towel—we inquire no further. +Drainage and all such topics involve details +positively nasty, and we blush for any of +our fellow-citizens who take delight in chattering +about them. +</p> + +<p> +We are told to regard the habits of an infant +world. London, the brain of a vast empire, is +advised now to forget her civilization, and to go +back some thousand years. We are to look at +Persian aqueducts, attributed to Noah's great-grandson—at +Carthaginians, Etruscans, Mexicans—at +what Rome did. It frets us when +we are thus driven to an obvious reply. Man +in an unripe and half-civilized condition, has not +found out the vulgarity of water; for his brutish +instinct is not overcome. All savages believe +that water is essential to their life and desire it +in unlimited abundance. Cultivation teaches +us another life, in which our animal existence +neither gets nor merits much attention. As for +the Romans, so perpetually quoted, it was a +freak of theirs to do things massively. While +they were yet almost barbarians, they built that +Cloaca through which afterward Agrippa sailed +down to the Tiber in a boat. Who wishes to +see His Worship the Lord Mayor of London +emerging in his state barge from a London +sewer? +</p> + +<p> +Now here is inconsistency. Thirty million +gallons of corruption are added daily by our +London sewers to the Thames: that is one +object of complaint, good in itself, because we +drink Thames water. But in the next breath +it is complained that a good many million gallons +more should be poured out; that there are +three hundred thousand cesspools more to be +washed up; that as much filth as would make +a lake six feet in depth, a mile long, and a +thousand feet across, lies under London stagnant; +and they would wish this also to be +swept into the river. I heard lately of a gentleman +who is tormented with the constant fancy +that he has a scorpion down his back. He asks +every neighbor to put in his hand and fetch it +out, but no amount of fetching out ever relieves +him. That is a national delusion. Our enlightened +public is much troubled with such +scorpions. Sanitary writers are infested with +them. +</p> + +<p> +They also say, That in one-half of London +people drink Thames water; and in the other +half, get water from the Chadwell spring and +River Lea. That the River Lea, for twenty +miles, flows through a densely-peopled district. +and is, in its passage, drenched with refuse +matter from the population on its banks. That +there is added to Thames water the waste of +two hundred and twenty cities, towns, and villages; +and that between Richmond and Waterloo-bridge +more than two hundred sewers discharge +into it their fetid matter. That the +washing to and fro of tide secures the arrival +of a large portion of filth from below Westminster, +at Hammersmith; effects a perfect mixture, +which is still farther facilitated by the splashing +of the steamboats. Mr. Hassal has published +engravings of the microscopic aspect of water +taken from companies which suck the river +up at widely-separated stages of its course +through town—so tested, one drop differs little +from another in the degree of its impurity. They +tell us that two companies—the Lambeth and +West Middlesex—supply Thames Mixture to +subscribers as it comes to them; but that others +filter more or less. They say that filtering can +expurge nothing but mechanical impurities, +while the dissolved pollution which no filter +can extract is that part which communicates +disease. We know this; well, and what then? +There are absurdities so lifted above ridicule, +that Momus himself would spoil part of the fun +if he attempted to trangress beyond a naked +statement of them. What do the members of +<pb n='611'/><anchor id='Pg611'/> +this Water Party want? I'll tell you what I +verily believe they are insane enough to look +for. +</p> + +<p> +They would, if possible, forsake Thames water, +calling it dirty, saying it is hard. So hard +they say it is, that it requires three spoonfuls +of tea instead of two in every man's pot, two +pounds of soap for one in every man's kitchen. +So they would fetch soft water from a Gathering +Ground in Surrey, adopting an example set +in Lancashire; from rain-fall on the heaths between +Bagshot and Farnham, and from tributaries +of the River Wey, they would collect +water in covered reservoirs, and bring it by A +<hi rend='smallcaps'>covered Aqueduct</hi> to London. In London, +they would totally abolish cisterns, and all intermittence +of supply. Water in London they +would have to be, as at Nottingham, accessible +in all rooms at all times. They would have +water, at high pressure, climbing about every +house in every court and alley. They would +place water, so to speak, at the finger's end, +limiting no household as to quantity. They +would enable every man to bathe. They would +revolutionize the sewer-system, and have the +town washed daily, like a good Mahometan, +clean to the finger-nails. They hint that all +this might not even be expensive; that the cost +of disease and degradation is so much greater +than the cost of health and self-respect, as to +pay back, possibly, our outlay, and then yield a +profit to the nation. They say that, even if it +were a money loss, it would be moral gain; +and they ask whether we have not spent millions, +ere now, upon less harmless commodities +than water? +</p> + +<p> +An ingenious fellow had a fiddle—all, he said, +made out of his own head; and wood enough +was left to make another. He must have been +a sanitary man; his fiddle was a crotchet. Still +farther to illustrate their own capacity of fiddle-making, +these good but misguided people have +been rooting up some horrible statistics of the +filth and wretchedness which our back-windows +overlook, with strange facts anent fever, pestilence, +and the communication of disease. All +this I purposely suppress; it is peculiarly disagreeable. +Delicate health we like, and will +learn gladly how to obtain it; but results we +are content with, and can spare the details, +when those details bring us into contact, even +upon paper, with the squalid classes. +</p> + +<p> +If these outcries of the Water Party move +the public to a thirst for change, it would be +prudent for us ægritudinary men not rashly to +swim against the current. Let us adopt a middle +course, a patronizing tone. It is in our +favor that a large number of the facts which +these our foes have to produce, are, by a great +deal too startling to get easy credit. A single +Pooh! has in it more semblance of reason than +a page of facts, when revelations of neglected +hygiene are on the carpet. If the case of the +Sanitary Reformers had been only half as well +made out, it would be twice as well supported. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>VIII. Filling The Grave.</head> + +<p> +M. Boutigny has published an account of +some experiments which go to prove that we +may dip our fingers into liquid metal with impunity. +Professor Plücker, of Bonn, has amply +confirmed Boutigny's results, and in his report +hints a conclusion that henceforth <q>certain minor +operations in surgery may be performed +with least pain by placing the foot in a bath of +red-hot iron.</q> Would you not like to see Professor +Plücker, with his trowsers duly tucked +up, washing his feet in a pailful of this very +soothing fluid? And would it not be a fit martyrdom +for sanitary doctors, if we could compel +them also to sacrifice their legs in a cause, kin +to their own, of theory and innovation? As +Alderman Lawrence shrewdly remarked the +other day, from his place in the Guildhall, the +sanitary reform cry is <q>got up.</q> That is the +reason why, in his case, it does not go down. +He, for his own part, did not disapprove the +flavor of a church-yard, and appeared to see no +reason why it should be cheated of its due. +The sanitary partisans, he said, were paid for +making certain statements. It would be well +if we could cut off their supply of halfpence, and +so silence them. Liwang, an ancient Emperor +of China, fearing insurrection, forbade all conversation, +even whispering, in his dominions. +It would be well for us if Liwang lived now as +our Secretary for the Home Department. There +is too much talking—is there not, Mr. Carlyle? +We want Liwang among us. However, as +matters stand, it is bad enough for the sanitary +reformers. <q>They drop their arms and tremble +when they hear,</q> they are despised by Alderman +Lawrence.<note place='foot'>The honest and uncompromising spirit in which +these papers oppose the sanitary movement, has led +some people to imagine that there is satire meant in +them. The best way to answer this suspicion, is to print +here so much as we can find space for of the speech of +Alderman Lawrence, reported in the <q>Times</q> one Saturday. +It will be seen that the tone of his eloquence, +and that of ours, differ but little; and that the present +writer resembles the learned Alderman (who has succeeded, +however, on a far larger scale) in his attempt +<foreign rend='italic'>miscere stultitiam consiliis brevem</foreign>. The noble city lord +remarked: <q>The fact was, that the sanitary schemes +were got up; talk was made about cholera, and people +became alarmed. Now, it was said that burial-grounds +were highly injurious to health, and a great cry had been +raised against them. He did not know such to be the +fact, that they were injurious to health. He did not believe +one word about it. There were many persons who +lived by raising up bugbears of this description in the present +day, and those persons were always raising up some +new crotchet or another.</q> After giving his view of the +new interments bill, he asked, <q>Was it likely that the +public would put up with the idea even of thus having +the remains of their friends carried about the country? +Was it likely that the Government would be permitted +thus to spread perhaps pestilence and fever?</q> There! +If you want satire, could you have a finer touch than that +last sentence? There is a bone to pick, and marrow in +it too.</note> +</p> + +<p> +Let us uphold our city grave-yards; on that +<pb n='612'/><anchor id='Pg612'/> +point we have already spoken out. Let us not +cheat them of their pasturage; if any man fall +sick, when, so to speak, his grave is dug, let us +not lift him out of it by misdirected care. That +topic now engages our attention. +</p> + +<p> +There is a report among the hear-say stories +of Herodotus, touching some tribe of Scythians, +that when one of them gets out of health, or +passes forty years of age, his friends proceed to +slaughter him, lest he become diseased, tough, +or unfit for table. These people took their ancestors +into their stomachs, we take ours into +our lungs—and herein we adopt the better plan, +because it is the more unwholesome. We are +content, also, now and then to let our friends +grow old, although we may repress the tendency +to age as much as possible. We do not absolutely +kill our neighbors when they sicken; yet +by judicious nursing we may frequently keep +down a too great buoyancy of health, and check +recovery. How to produce this last effect I will +now tell you. Gentle mourners, do not chide +me as irreverent— +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>Auch ich war in Arkadien geboren,</q> +</quote> + +<p> +bear with me, then, and let me give my hints +concerning ægritudinary sick-room discipline. +</p> + +<p> +Of the professional nurse I will say nothing. +You, of course, have put down Mrs. Gamp's +address. +</p> + +<p> +A sick-room should, in the first place, be +made dark. Light, I have said before, is, in +most cases, curative. It is a direct swindling +of the doctor when we allow blinds to be pulled +up, and so admit into the patient's room medicine +for which nobody (except the tax-gatherer) +is paid. +</p> + +<p> +A sick-room should, in the next place, be +made sad, obtrusively sad. A smile upon the +landing must become a sigh when it has passed +the patient's door. Our hope is to depress, to +dispirit invalids. Cheerful words and gentle +laughter, more especially where there is admitted +sunshine also, are a moral food much too +nutritious for the sick. +</p> + +<p> +The sick-room, in its furniture as well, must +have an ominous appearance. The drawers, or +a table should be decked with physic bottles. +Some have a way of thrusting all the medicine +into a cupboard, out of sight, leaving a glass of +gayly-colored flowers for the wearied eyes to +rest upon: this has arisen obviously from a sanitary +crotchet, and is, on no account, to be +adopted. +</p> + +<p> +Then we must have the sick-room to be hot, +and keep it close. A scentless air, at summer +temperature, sanitary people want; a hot, close +atmosphere is better suited to our view. Slops +and all messes are to be left standing in the +room—only put out of sight—and cleared away +occasionally; they are not to be removed at +once. The chamber also is to be made tidy +once a day, and once a week well cleaned: it +is not to be kept in order by incessant care, by +hourly tidiness, permitting no dirt to collect. +</p> + +<p> +There is an absurd sanitary dictum, which I +will but name. It is, that a patient ought to +have, if possible, two beds, one for the day, and +one for night use; or else two sets of sheets, +that, each set being used one day and aired the +next, the bed may be kept fresh and wholesome. +Suppose our friend were to catch cold in consequence +of all this freshness! +</p> + +<p> +No, we do better to avoid fresh air; nor +should we vex our patient with much washing. +We will not learn to feed the sick, but send +their food away when they are unable to understand +our clumsiness. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, while we follow our own humor in this +code of chamber practice, we will pay tithes of +mint and cummin to the men of science. We +will ask Monsieur Purgon how many grains of +salt go to an egg; and if our patient require +twelve turns up and down the room, we will +inquire with Argan, whether they are to be +measured by its length or breadth. +</p> + +<p> +When we have added to our course some +doses of religious horror, we shall have done as +much as conscience can demand of us toward +filling the grave. +</p> + +<p> +I may append here the remark, that if ever +we do resolve to eat our ancestors, there is the +plan of a distinguished horticulturist apt for our +purpose. Mr. Loudon, I believe it was, who +proposed, some years ago, the conversion of the +dead into rotation crops—that our grandfathers +and grandmothers should be converted into corn +and mangel-wurzel. His suggestion was to +combine burial with farming operations. A +field was to be, during forty years, a place of +interment: then the field adjacent was to be +taken for that purpose; and so on with others +in rotation. A due time having been allowed +for the manure in each field to rot, the dead +were to be well worked up and gradually disinterred +in the form of wheat, or carrots, or potatoes. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing appears odd to which we are accustomed. +We look abroad and wonder, but we +look at home and are content. The Esquimaux +believe that men dying in windy weather are +unfortunate, because their souls, as they escape, +risk being blown away. Some Negroes do not +bury in the rainy season, for they believe that +then the gods, being all busy up above, can not +attend to any ceremonies. Dr. Hooker writes +home from the Himalaya mountains, that about +Lake Yarou the Lamas' bodies are exposed, and +kites are summoned to devour them by the +sound of a gong and of a trumpet made out of a +human thigh-bone. Such notions from abroad +arrest our notice, but we see nothing when we +look at home. We might see how we fill our +sick-rooms with a fatal gloom, and keep our +dead five or six days within our houses, to bury +them, side by side and one over another, thousands +together, in the middle of our cities. +However, when we do succeed in getting at a +view of our own life <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>ab extra</foreign>, it is a pleasant +thing to find that sanitary heresies at any rate +have not struck deep root in the British soil. +In an old book of emblems there is a picture of +Cupid whipping a tortoise, to the motto that +<pb n='613'/><anchor id='Pg613'/> +Love hates delay. If lovers of reform in sanitary +matters hate delay, it is a pity; for our +good old tortoise has a famous shell, and is not +stimulated easily. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>IX. The Fire And The Dressing-Room.</head> + +<p> +Against the weather all men are Protectionists—all +men account it matter of offense. +What say the people of the north? A Highland +preacher, one December Sunday, in the fourth +hour of his sermon—For be it known to Englishmen +who nod at church, that in the Highlands, +after four good hours of prayer and +psalm, there follow four good hours of sermon. +And, <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>nota bene</foreign>, may it not be that the shade of +our King Henry I. does penance among Highland +chapels now, for having, in his lifetime, +made one Roger a bishop because he was expert +in scrambling through the services?—A +Highland pastor saw his congregation shivering. +<q>Ah!</q> he shouted, <q>maybe ye think this a +cauld place; but, let me tell ye, hell's far +caulder!</q> An English hearer afterward reproached +this minister for his perversion of the +current faith. <q>Hout, man,</q> said he, <q>ye +dinna ken the Hielanders. If I were to tell +them hell was a hot place, they'd all be laboring +to go there.</q> And that was true philosophy. +Mythologies invented in the north, imagined +their own climate into future torture. Above, +in the northern lights, they saw a chase of miserable +souls, half starved, and hunted to and fro +by ravens; below, they imagined Nastrond with +its frosts and serpents. Warmth is delightful, +certainly. No doubt but sunburnt nations picture +future punishment as fire. Yes, naturally, +for it is in the middle region only that we are +not wearied with extremes. What region shall +we take? Our own? When is it not too hot, +too cold, too dry, too wet, or too uncertain? +Italy? There the sun breeds idle maggots. +As for the poet's paradise, Cashmere, botanists +tell us that, although, no doubt, fruits grow luxuriantly +there, they are extremely flavourless. +Then it is obvious that to abuse, antagonise, +defy the weather, is one of the established rights +of man. Upon our method of defying it, our +health, in some measure, depends. How is our +right to be maintained unhealthily? +</p> + +<p> +Not by blind obedience to nature. We are +correcting her, and must not let her guide us. +Nature considers all men savages—and savages +they would be, if they followed her. What is +barbarism? Man in a state of nature. Nature, +I say, treats us almost as if we were unable to +light fires, or stich for ourselves breeches. +Nature places near the hand of man in each +climate a certain food, and tyrannizes over his +stomach with a certain craving. Whales and +seals delight the Esquimaux; he eats his blubber +and defies the frost. So fed, the Esquimaux +woman can stand out of doors, suckling her infant +at an open breast, with the thermometer +40° below zero. As we go south, we pass the +lands of bread and beef, to reach the sultry +region wherein nature provides dates, and so +forth. Even in our own range of the seasons, +nature seeks to bind us to her own routine; in +winter gives an appetite for flesh and fat, in +summer takes a part of it away. We are not +puppets, and we will not be dictated to; so we +stimulate the stomach, and allow no brute instinct +to tamper with our social dietary. We +do here, on a small scale, what is done, on a +large scale, by our friends in India, who pepper +themselves into appetite, that they may eat, and +drink, and die. We drink exciting beverage in +summer, because we are hot; we drink it in +winter, because we are cold. The fact is, we +are driven to such practices; for if we did not +interfere to take the guidance of our diet out of +nature's hands, she would make food do a large +portion of the service which civilization asks of +fire and clothing. We should walk about warm +in the winter, cool in the summer, having the +warmth and coolness in ourselves. Now, it is +obvious that this would never do. We must be +civilized, or we must not. Is Mr. Sangster to +sell tomahawks instead of canes? Clearly, he +is not. We must so manage our homes as to +create unhealthy bodies. If we do not, society +is ruined; if we do—and in proportion as we +do so—we become more and more unfit to meet +vicissitudes of weather. Then we acquire a +social craving after fires, and coats, and cloaks, +and wrappers, and umbrellas, and cork soles, +and muffetees, and patent hareskins, and all the +blessings of this life, upon which our preservation +must depend. These prove that we have +stepped beyond the brute. You never saw a +lion with cork soles and muffetees. The tiger +never comes out, of nights, in a great coat. +The eagle never soars up from his nest with an +umbrella. Man alone comprehends these luxuries; +and it is when he is least healthy that he +loves them best. +</p> + +<p> +In winter, then, it is not diet, and it is not +exercise, that shall excite in us a vital warmth. +We will depend on artificial means; we will be +warmed, not from within, but from without. +We will set ourselves about a fire, like pies, and +bake; heating the outside first. Where the +fire fails, we will depend upon the dressing-room. +</p> + +<p> +If we have healthy chests, we will encase +ourselves in flannel; but if we happen to have +chest complaint, we will use nothing of the sort. +When we go out, we will empanoply our persons, +so that we may warm ourselves by shutting +in all exhalation from our bodies, and by +husbanding what little heat we permit nature to +provide for us. +</p> + +<p> +In summer we will eat rich dinners and drink +wine, will cast off three-fourths of the thickness +of our winter clothing, and still be oppressed by +heat. Iced drinks shall take the place of fire. +</p> + +<p> +Civilized people can not endure being much +wetted. Contact of water, during exercise, +will do no harm to healthy bodies, but will +spoil good clothes. We will get damp only +when we walk out in bad weather; then, when +<pb n='614'/><anchor id='Pg614'/> +we come home, we need no change. Evaporation +from damp clothes—the act of drying—while +the body cools down, resting, and perhaps +fatigued, that is what damages the health; +against that we have no objection. +</p> + +<p> +Hem! No doubt it is taking a great liberty +with a Briton to look over his wardrobe. I will +not trespass so far, but, my dear sir, your Hat! +If we are to have a column on our heads, let it +be one in which we can feel pride; a miniature +monument; and we might put a statue on the +top. Hats, as they are now worn, would not +fitly support more than a bust. Is not this +mean? On ægritudinary grounds we will uphold +a hat. To keep the edifice from taking +flight before a puff of wind, it must be fitted +pretty tightly round the head, must press over +the forehead and the occiput. How much it +presses, a red ring upon our flesh will often +testify. Heads are not made of putty; pressure +implies impediment to certain processes within; +one of these processes is called the circulation +of the blood. The brain lies underneath our +hats. Well, that is as it should be. Ladies do +not wear hats, and never will, the bonnet is so +artful a contrivance for encompassing the face +with ornament; roses and lilies and daffidowndillies, +which would have sent Flora into fits, +and killed her long ago, had such a goddess +ever been. +</p> + +<p> +I said that there was brain under the hat; +this is not always obvious, but there is generally +hair. Once upon a time, not very long ago, +hair was constructed with great labor into a +huge tower upon every lady's head, pomatum +being used by way of mortar, and this tower +was repaired every three weeks. The British +matron then looked like a <q>mop-headed Papuan.</q> +The two were much alike, except in +this, that while our countrywoman triumphed +in her art, the Papuan was discontented with +his nature. The ladies here, whose hair was +naturally made to fall around the shoulders, +reared it up on end; but in New Guinea, +fashionables born with hair that grew of its +own will into an upright bush, preferred to cut +it off, and re-arrange it in a wig directed downwards. +Sometimes they do no more than crop +it close; and then, since it is characteristic of +the hair in this race to grow, not in an expanse, +but in tufts, the head is said by sailors to remind +them of a worn-out shoe-brush. So, at the +Antipodes as well as here, Art is an enemy to +Nature. Hair upon the head was meant originally +to preserve in all seasons an equable temperature +above the brain. Emptying grease-pots +into it, and matting it together, we convert +it into an unwholesome skull-cap. +</p> + +<p> +The neck? Here sanitary people say, How +satisfactory it is that Englishmen keep their +necks covered with a close cravat, and do not +Byronize in opposition to the climate. That is +very good; but English women, who account +themselves more delicate, don't cover their +necks, indeed they do not at all times cover +their shoulders. So traveling from top to toe, +if Englishmen wear thick shoes to protect the +feet, our English women scorn the weakness, +and go, except a little fancy covering, bare-footed. +</p> + +<p> +From this point I digress, to note of other +garments that the English dress, as now established, +does on the whole fair credit to society. +To the good gentlemen who poetize concerning +grace and the antique, who sigh for togas, stolas, +and paludaments, I say, Go to. The drapery +you sigh for was the baby-linen of the human +race. Now we are out of long-clothes. The +present European dress is that which offers least +impediment to action. It shows what a Man is +like, and that is more than any stranger from +another world could have detected under the +upholstery to which our sculptors cling. The +merest hint of a man—shaped as God shaped +him—is better than ten miles of folded blanket. +Artists cry down our costume; forgetting that +if they have not folds of drapery to paint, that +is because they have in each man every limb to +which they may assign its posture. If they can +put no mind into a statue by the mastery of +attitude, all the sheets in Guy's Hospital will +not twist into a fold that shall be worth their +chiseling. +</p> + +<p> +With women it is different. They have both +moral and æsthetic right to drapery; and for the +fashion of it, we must leave that to themselves. +They are all licensed to deal in stuffs, colors, +frippery, and flounce. And to wear rings in +their ears. If ladies have good taste they can +not vex us; and that any of them can have bad +taste, who shall hint? Their stays they will +abide by, as they love hysterics; them I have +mentioned. I have before also gone out of my +way to speak of certain humps carried by +women on their backs, which are not healthy +or unhealthy—who shall say what they are? +Are these humps allegorical? Our wives and +daughters perhaps wish to hint that they resemble +camels in their patience; camels who +bear their burden through a desert world, +which we, poor folk, should find it quite impossible +to travel through without them. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>X. Fresh Air.</head> + +<p> +Philosophers tell us that the breath of man is +poisonous; that when collected in a jar it will +kill mice, but when accumulated in a room it +will kill men. Of this there are a thousand and +one tales. I decline alluding to the Black Hole +of Calcutta, but will take a specimen dug up by +some sanitary gardener from Horace Walpole's +letters. In 1742 a set of jolly Dogberries, virtuous +in their cups, resolved that every woman +out after dark ought to be locked up in the +round-house. They captured twenty-six unfortunates, +and shut them in with doors and +windows fastened. The prisoners exhausted +breath in screaming. One poor girl said she +was worth eighteenpence, and cried that she +would give it gladly for a cup of water. Dogberry +was deaf. In the morning four were +<pb n='615'/><anchor id='Pg615'/> +brought out dead, two dying, and twelve in a +dangerous condition. This is an argument in +favor of the new police. I don't believe in +ventilation; and will undertake here, in a few +paragraphs, to prove it nonsense. +</p> + +<p> +At the very outset, let us take the ventilation-mongers +on their own ground. People of this +class are always referring us to nature. Very +well, we will be natural. Do you believe, sir, +that the words of that dear lady, when she said +she loved you everlastingly, were poisonous air +rendered sonorous by the action of a larynx, +tongue, teeth, palate, and lips? No, indeed; +ladies, at any rate, although they claim a double +share of what the cherubs want—and, possibly, +these humps, now three times spoken of, +are the concealed and missing portions of the +cherubim torn from them by the fair sex in +some ancient struggle. There, now, I am again +shipwrecked on the wondrous mountains. I +was about to say, that ladies, who, in some +things, surpass the cherubs, equal them in +others; like them, are vocal with ethereal +tones; their breath is <q>the sweet south, stealing +across a bed of violets,</q> and that's not +poisonous, I fancy. Well, I believe the chemists +have, as yet, not detected any difference +between a man's breath, and a woman's; therefore, +neither of them can be hurtful. But let us +grant the whole position. Breath is poisonous, +but nature made it so; nature intended it to be +so. Nature made man a social animal, and, +therefore, designed that many breaths should be +commingled. Why do you, lovers of the natural, +object to that arrangement? +</p> + +<p> +Now let us glance at the means adopted to +get rid of this our breath, this breath of which +our words are made, libeled as poisonous. +Ventilation is of two kinds, mechanical and +physical. I will say something about each. +</p> + +<p> +Mechanical ventilation is that which machinery +produces. One of the first recorded +ventilators of this kind, was not much more +extravagant in its charges upon house-room, +than some of which we hear in 1850. In +1663, H. Schmitz published the scheme of a +great fanner, which, descending through the +ceiling, moved to and fro pendulum-wise, within +a mighty slit. The movement of the fanner +was established by a piece of clockwork more +simple than compact: it occupied a complete +chamber overhead, and was set in noisy motion +by a heavy weight. The weight ran slowly +down, pulling its rope until it reached the parlor +floor; so that a gentleman incautiously falling +asleep under it after his dinner, might +awake to find himself a pancake. Since that +time we have had no lack of ingenuity at work +on forcing pumps, and sucking-pumps, and +screws. The screws are admirable, on account +of the unusually startling nature, now and then, +of their results. Not long ago, a couple of fine +screws were adapted to a public building; one +was to take air out, the other was to turn air in. +The first screw, unexpectedly perverse, wheeled +its air inward; so did the second, but instead of +directing its draught upward, it blew down +with a great gust of contempt upon the horrified +experimentalist. There is something of a +screw principle in those queer little wheels +fastened occasionally in our windows, and on +footmen's hats—query, are those the ventilating +hats?—the rooms are as much ventilated by +these little tins as they would be by an air from +<q>Don Giovanni.</q> I will say nothing about +pumps; nor, indeed, need we devote more +space to mechanical contrivances, since it is +from other modes of ventilation that our cause +has most to fear. Only one quaint speculation +may be mentioned. It is quite certain that in +the heats of India, air is not cooled by fanning, +nor is it cooled judiciously by damping it. Professor +Piazzi Smyth last year suggested this +idea: Compress air by a forcing-pump into a +close vessel, by so doing you increase its heat, +then suddenly allow it to escape into a room, it +will expand so much as to be cold, and, mixing +with the other air in the apartment, cool the +whole mass. This is the last new theory, +which has not yet, I think, been tried in practice. +</p> + +<p> +Now, physical ventilation—that which affects +to imitate the processes of nature—is a more +dangerously specious business. Its chief agent +is heat. In nature, it is said, the sun is Lord +High Ventilator. He rarefies the air in one +place by his heat, elsewhere permits cold, and +lets the air be dense; the thin air rises, and the +dense air rushes to supply its place; so we have +endless winds and currents—nature's ventilating +works. It is incredible that sane men should +have thought this system fit for imitation. It +is a failure. Look at the hot department, +where a traveler sometimes has to record that +he lay gasping for two hours upon his back, +until some one could find some water for him +somewhere. Let us call that Africa, and who +can say that he enjoys the squalls of wind rushing +toward the desert? Let us think of the +Persian and the Punic wars, when fleets which +had not learned to play bo-peep with ventilating +processes, strewed Mediterranean sands with +wrecks and corpses. Some day we shall have +these mimics of Dame Nature content with +nothing smaller than a drawing-room typhoon +to carry off the foul air of an evening party; +dowagers' caps, young ladies' scarfs, cards, +pocket-handkerchiefs, will whirl upon their blast, +and then they will be happy. Now their demands +are modest, but they mean hurricanes rely +upon it; we must not let ourselves be +lulled into a false security. +</p> + +<p> +A fire, they say, is in English houses necessary +during a large part of the year, is constant +during that season when we are most closely +shut up in our rooms. The fire, they say, is +our most handy and most efficacious ventilator. +Oh, yes, we know something about that: we +know too well that the fire makes an ascending +current, and that the cold air rushes from our +doors and windows to the chimney, as from surrounding +countries to the burning desert. We +<pb n='616'/><anchor id='Pg616'/> +know that very well, because every such current +is a draught; one cuts into our legs, one gnaws +about our necks, and all our backs are cold. +We are in the condition of a pious man in Fox's +<q>Martyrs,</q> about whom I used to read with +childish reverence: that after a great deal of +frying, during which he had not been turned by +the Inquisition-Soyer, he lifted up his voice in +verse: +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>This side enough is toasted;</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 2'>Then turn me, tyrant, and eat,</l> +<l>And see whether raw or roasted</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 2'><q rend='post'>I make the better meat.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +We, all of us, over our Christmas fires, present +this choice of raw or roast, and we don't thank +your principles of ventilation for it. Then say +these pertinacious people, that they also disapprove +of draughts; but they don't seem to mind +boring holes in a gentleman's floor, or knocking +through the sacred walls of home. This is +their plan. They say, that you should have, if +possible, a pipe connected with the air without, +passing behind the cheeks of your stove, and +opening under your fire, about, on, or close +before your hearth. They say, that from this +source the fire will be supplied so well, that it +will no longer suck in draughts over your +shoulders, and between your legs, from remote +corners of the room. They say, moreover, that +if this aperture be large enough, it will supply +all the fresh air needed in your room, to replace +that which has ascended and passed out, through +a hole which you are to make in your chimney +near the ceiling. They say, that an up-draught +will clear this air away so quietly that you will +not need even a valve; though you may have +one fitted and made ornamental at a trifling +cost. They would recommend you to make +another hole in the wall opposite your chimney, +near the ceiling also, to establish a more effectual +current in the upper air. Then, they say, +you will have a fresh air, and no draughts. +Fresh air, yes, at the expense of a hole in the +floor, and two holes in the wall. We might get +fresh air, gentlemen, on a much larger scale by +pulling the house down. They say, you should +not mind the holes. Windows are not architectural +beauties, yet we like them for admitting +light; and some day it may strike us that the +want of ventilators is a neighbor folly to the +want of windows. +</p> + +<p> +This they suggest as the best method of +adapting our old houses to their new ideas. +New houses they would have so built as to +include this system of ventilation in their first +construction, and so include it as to make it +more effectual. But really, if people want to +know how to build what are called well-ventilated +houses, they must not expect me to tell +them; let them buy Mr. Hosking's book on <q>The +proper Regulation of Buildings in Towns.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Up to this date, as I am glad to know, few +architects have heard of ventilation. Under +church galleries we doze through the most +lively sermons, in public meetings we pant +after air, but we have architecture; perhaps an +airy style sometimes attempts to comfort us. +These circumstances are, possibly, unpleasant +at the time, but they assist the cause of general +unhealthiness. Long may our architects believe +that human lungs are instruments of brass; and +let us hope that, when they get a ventilating fit, +they will prefer strange machines, pumping, +screwing, steaming apparatus. May they dispense +then, doctored air, in draughts and mixtures.<note place='foot'>In +the ventilation of large buildings destined to admit +a throng, it may be also advantageous to the ægritudinary +cause if heat be at all times considered a sufficient agent.</note> +</p> + +<p> +Fresh air in certain favored places—as in +Smithfield, for example—is undoubtedly an object +of desire. It is exceedingly to be regretted, +if the rumors be correct, that the result of +a Commission of Inquiry threatens, by removing +Smithfield, to destroy the only sound lung this +metropolis possesses. The wholesome nature +of the smell of cows is quite notorious. Humboldt +tells of a sailor who was dying of fever +in the close hold of a ship. His end being +in sight, some comrades brought him out to die. +What Humboldt calls <q>the fresh air</q> fell upon +him, and, instead of dying, he revived, eventually +getting well. I have no doubt that there was +a cow on board, and the man smelt her. Now, +if so great an effect was produced by the proximity +of one cow, how great must be the advantage +to the sick in London of a central crowded +cattle-market! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>XI. Exercise.</head> + +<p> +There is a little tell-tale muscle in the inner +corner of the eye, which, if you question it, +will deliver a report into your looking-glass +touching the state of the whole muscular system +which lies elsewhere hidden in your body. +When it is pale, it praises you. Muscular development +is, by all means, to be kept down. +Some means of holding it in check we have +already dwelt upon. Muscular power, like all +other power, will increase with exercise. We +desire to hold the flesh in strict subjection to the +spirit. Bodily exercise, therefore, must be +added to the number of those forces which, by +strengthening the animal, do damage to the +spiritual man. +</p> + +<p> +We must take great pains to choke the +energy of children. Their active little limbs +must be tied down by a well-woven system of +politeness. They run, they jump, turn heels +over head, they climb up trees, if they attempt +stillness they are ever on the move, because +nature demands that while the body grows, it +shall be freely worked in all its parts, in order +that it may develop into a frame-work vigorous +and well proportioned. Nature really is more +obstinate than usual on this point. So restless +a delight in bodily exertion is implanted in the +child, that our patience is considerably tried +when we attempt to keep it still. Children, +however, can be tamed and civilized. By +<pb n='617'/><anchor id='Pg617'/> +sending them unhealthy from the nursery, we +can deliver many of them spiritless at school, +there to be properly subdued. The most unwholesome +plan is to send boys to one school, +girls to another; both physically and morally, +this method gives good hope of sickliness. +Nature, who never is on our side, will allow +children of each sex to be born into one family, +to play together, and be educated at one +mother's knee. There ought to be—if nature +had the slightest sense of decency—girls only +born in one house, boys only in another. However, +we can sort the children at an early age, +and send them off to school—girls east, boys +west. +</p> + +<p> +A girl should be allowed, on no account, to +climb a tree, or be unladylike. She shall +regard a boy as a strange, curious monster; be +forced into flirtation; and prefer the solace of a +darling friend to any thing that verges on a +scamper. She shall learn English grammar: +that is to mean, Lindley Murray's notion of it; +geography, or the names of capital towns, +rivers, and mountain ranges; French enough +for a lady; music, ornamental needlework, and +the <q>use of the globes.</q> By-the-by, what a +marvel it is that every lady has learned in her +girlhood the use of the globes, and yet you +never see a lady using them. All these subjects +she shall study from a female point of view. +Her greatest bodily fatigue shall be the learning +of a polka, or the Indian sceptre exercise. Now +and then, she shall have an iron down her back, +and put her feet in stocks. The young lady +shall return from school, able to cover ottomans +with worsted birds; and to stitch a purse for +the expected lover about whom she has been +thinking for the last five years. She is quite +aware that St. Petersburg is the capital of +Ireland, and that a noun is a verb-substantive, +which signifies to be, to do, to suffer. +</p> + +<p> +The boy children shall be sent to school, where +they may sit during three hours consecutively, +and during eight or nine hours in the day, forcing +their bodies to be tranquil. They shall entertain +their minds by stuttering the eloquence +of Cicero, which would be dull work to them in +English, and is not enlivened by the Latin. +They shall get much into their mouths of what +they can not comprehend, and little or nothing +into their hearts, out of the wide stores of information +for which children really thirst. They +shall be taught little or nothing of the world +they live in, and shall know its Maker only as +an answer to some question in a catechism. +They shall talk of girls as beings of another +nature; and shall come home from their school-life, +pale, subdued, having unwholesome thoughts, +awkward in using limbs, which they have not +been suffered freely to develop; and shamefaced +in the society from which, during their schoolboy +life, they have been banished. +</p> + +<p> +The older girl shall ape the lady, and the +older boy shall ape the gentleman; so we may +speak next of adults. +</p> + +<p> +No lady ought to walk when she can ride. +The carriages of many kinds which throng our +streets, all prove us civilized; prove us, and +make us weak. The lady should be tired after +a four-mile walk; her walk ought to be, in the +utmost possible degree, weeded of energy. It +should be slow; and when her legs are moved, +her arms must be restrained from that synchronous +movement which perverse Nature calls +upon them to perform. Ladies do well to walk +out with their arms quite still, and with their +hands folded before them. Thus they prevent +their delicacy from being preyed upon by a too +wholesome exercise, and, what is to us more +pleasant, they betray their great humility. They +dare only to walk among us lords of the creation +with their arms folded before them, that by +such humble guise they may acknowledge the +inferiority of their position. An Australian native, +visiting London, might almost be tempted, +in sheer pride of heart, to knock some of our +ladies two or three times about the head with +that small instrument which he employs for +such correction of his women, that so he might +derive the more enjoyment from their manifest +submissiveness. +</p> + +<p> +The well-bred gentleman ought to be weary +after six miles of walking, and haughtily stare +down the man who talks about sixteen. The +saddle, the gig, the carriage, or the cab, and +omnibus, must protect at once his delicacy and +his shoes. The student should confine himself +to study, grudging time; believing nobody who +tells him that the time he gives to wholesome +exercise, he may receive back in the shape of +increased value for his hours of thought—that +even his life of study may be lengthened by it. +Let the tradesman be well-rooted in his shop if +he desire to flourish. Let the mechanic sit at +labor on the week-days, and on Sundays let him +sit at church, or else stop decently at home. +Let us have no Sunday recreations. It is quite +shocking to hear sanitary people lecture on this +topic. Profanely they profess to wonder why +the weary, toiling family of Christians should +not be carried from the town, and from that +hum of society which is not to them very refreshing +on the day of rest. Why they should +not go out and wander in the woods, and ask +their hearts who taught the dragon-fly his dancing; +who made the blue-bells cluster lovingly +together, looking so modest; and ask from +whose Opera the birds are singing their delicious +music? Why should not the rugged man's +face soften, and the care-worn woman's face be +melted into tenderness, and man and wife and +children cluster as closely as the blue-bells in +the peaceful wood? What if they there become +so very conscious of their mutual love, +and of the love of God, as to feel glad that they +are not in any other <q>place of worship,</q> where +they may hear Roman Catholics denounced, or +Churchmen scorned, or the Dissenters pounded? +What if they then come home refreshed in mind +and body, and begin the week with larger, gentler +thoughts of God and man? By such means +may they not easily be led, if they were at any +<pb n='618'/><anchor id='Pg618'/> +unwilling, to give praise to God, and learn +to join—not as a superstitious rite, but as a +humble duty—in His public worship? So talk +the sanitary men—here, as in all their doctrines, +showing themselves little better than materialists. +The negro notion of a Sabbath is, that +nobody may fish: our notion is, that nobody may +stay away from church. +</p> + +<p> +In these remarks on exercise among adults, I +have confined myself to the plain exercise of +walking. It may be taken for granted that no +grown-up person will be so childish as to leap, +to row, to swim. A few Young Englanders +may put on, now and then, their white kid +gloves to patronize a cricket-match; but we +can laugh at them. In a gentleman it is undignified +to run; and even walking, at the best, +is vulgar. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed there is an obvious vulgarity in the +whole doctrine which would call upon us to +assist our brute development by the mere exercising +of ourselves as animals. Such counsel +offers to degrade us to the low position of the +race-horse who is trotted to and fro, the poodle +who is sent out for an airing. As spiritual +people, we look down with much contempt upon +the man who would in any thing compare us +with the lower animals. His mind is mean, +and must be quite beneath our indignation. I +will say no more. Why thrash a pickpocket +with thunder? +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>XII. A Bedroom Paper.</head> + +<p> +If you wish to have a thoroughly unhealthy +bedroom, these are the precautions you should +take. +</p> + +<p> +Fasten a chimney-board against the fireplace, +so as to prevent foul air from escaping in the +night. You will, of course, have no hole through +the wall into the chimney; and no sane man, in +the night season, would have a door or window +open. Use no perforated zinc in paneling; +especially avoid it in small bedrooms. So you +will get a room full of bad air. But in the +same room there is bad, worse, and worst: your +object is to have the worst air possible. Suffocating +machines are made by every upholsterer; +attach one to your bed; it is an apparatus +of poles, rings, and curtains. By drawing your +curtains around you before you sleep, you insure +to yourself a condensed body of foul air over +your person. This poison vapor-bath you will +find to be most efficient when it is made of any +thick material. +</p> + +<p> +There being transpiration through the skin, it +would not be a bad idea to see whether this can +not be in some way hindered. The popular +method will do very well: smother the flesh as +much as possible in feathers. A wandering +princess, in some fairy tale, came to a king's +house. The king's wife, with the curiosity and +acuteness proper to her sex, desired to know +whether their guest was truly born a princess, +and discovered how to solve the question. She +put three peas on the young lady's paillasse, +and over them a large feather-bed, and then +another, then another—in fact, fifteen feather-beds. +Next morning the princess looked pale, +and, in answer to inquiries how she had passed +the night, said that she had been unable to sleep +at all, because the bed had lumps in it. The +king's wife knew then that their guest showed +her good breeding. Take this high-born lady +for a model. The feathers retain all heat about +your body, and stifle the skin so far effectually, +that you awake in the morning pervaded by a +sense of languor, which must be very agreeable +to a person who has it in his mind to be unhealthy. +In order to keep a check upon exhalation +about your head (which otherwise +might have too much the way of Nature), put +on a stout, closely-woven night-cap. People +who are at the height of cleverness in this respect +sleep with their heads under the bed-clothes. +Take no rest on a hair-mattress; it is +elastic and pleasant, certainly, but it does not +encase the body; and therefore you run a risk +of not awaking languid. +</p> + +<p> +Never wash when you go to bed; you are +not going to see any body, and therefore there +can be no use in washing. In the morning, +wet no more skin than you absolutely must—that +is to say, no more than your neighbors will +see during the day—the face and hands. So +much you may do with a tolerably good will, +since it is the other part of the surface of the +body, more covered and more impeded in the +full discharge of its functions, which has rather +the more need of ablution; it is therefore fortunate +that you can leave that other part unwashed. +Five minutes of sponging and rubbing +over the whole body in the morning would tend +to invigorate the system, and would send you +with a cheerful glow to the day's business or +pleasure. Avoid it by all means, if you desire +to be unhealthy. Let me note here, that in +speaking of the poor, we should abstain from +ceding to them an exclusive title, as <q>the +Great Unwashed.</q> Will you, Mr. N. or M., +retire into your room and strip? Examine your +body; is it clean—was it sponged this morning—is +there no dirt upon it any where? If it be +not clean, if it was not sponged, if water would +look rather black after you had enjoyed a +thorough scrub in it, then is it not obvious that +you yourself take rank among the Great Unwashed? +By way of preserving a distinction +between them and us, I even think it would be +no bad thing were we to advocate the washing +of the poor. +</p> + +<p> +Do not forget that, although you must unfortunately +apply water to your face you can +find warrant in custom to excuse you from annoying +it with soap; and for the water again, +you are at liberty to take vengeance by obtaining +compensation damages out of that part of +your head which the hair covers. Never wash +it; soil it; clog it with oil or lard—either of +which will answer your purpose, as either will +keep out air as well as water, and promote the +growth of a thick morion of scurf. Lard in the +<pb n='619'/><anchor id='Pg619'/> +bedroom is called bear's grease. In connection +with its virtues in promoting growth of hair, +there is a tale which I believe to be no fiction; +not the old and profane jest of the man who +rubbed a deal box with it over-night, and found +a hair-trunk in the morning. It is said that the +first adventurer who advertised bear's grease for +sale, appended to the laudation of its efficacy a +Nota Bene, that gentlemen, after applying it, +should wash the palms of their hands, otherwise +the hair would sprout thence also. I admire +that speculator, grimly satiric at the expense +both of himself and of his customers. He jested +at his own pretensions; and declared, by an +oblique hint, that he did not look for friends +among the scrupulously clean. +</p> + +<p> +Tooth-powder is necessary in the bedroom. +Healthy stomachs will make healthy teeth, and +then a tooth-brush and a little water may suffice +to keep them clean. But healthy stomachs also +make coarse constitutions. It is vexatious that +our teeth rot when we vitiate the fluid that +surrounds them. As gentlemen and ladies we +desire good teeth; they must be scoured and +hearth-stoned. +</p> + +<p> +Of course, as you do not cleanse your body +daily, so you will not show favor to your feet. +Keep up a due distinction between the upper +and lower members. When a German prince +was told confidentially that he had dirty hands, +he replied, with the liveliness of conscious triumph, +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ach, do you call dat dirty? You should +see my toes!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Some people wash them once in every month; +that will do very well; or once a year, it matters +little which. In what washing you find +yourself unable to omit, use only the finest +towels, those which inflict least friction on the +skin. +</p> + +<p> +Having made these arrangements for yourself, +take care that they are adhered to, as far +is may be convenient, throughout your household. +</p> + +<p> +Here and there, put numerous sleepers into a +single room; this is a good thing for children, +if you require to blanch them. By a little perseverance, +also, in this way, when you have too +large a family, you can reduce it easily. By +all means, let a baby have foul air, not only by +the use of suffocative apparatus, but by causing +it to sleep where there are four or five others in +a well-closed room. So much is due to the +maintenance of our orthodox rate of infant mortality. +</p> + +<p> +Let us admire, lastly, the economy of time in +great men who have allowed themselves only +four, five, or six hours, for sleep. It may be +true that they would have lived longer had they +always paid themselves a fair night's quiet for +a fair day's work; they would have lived longer, +but they would not have lived so fast. It is essential +to live fast in this busy world. Moreover, +there is a superstitious reverence for early +rising, as a virtue by itself, which we shall do +well to acquire. Let sanitary men say, <q>Roost +with the lark, if you propose to rise with her.</q> +Nonsense. No civilized man can go to bed +much earlier than midnight; but every man of +business must be up betimes. Idle, happy +people, on the other hand, they to whom life is +useless, prudently remain for nine, ten, or a +dozen hours in bed. Snug in their corner, they +are in the way of nobody, except the housemaid. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>Now wotte we nat, ne can na see</q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>What manir ende that there shall be.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +Birth, sickness, burial. Eating, drinking, +clothing, sleeping. Exercise, and social pleasure. +Air, water, and light. These are the +topics upon which we have already touched. A +finished painting of good ægritudinary discipline +was not designed upon the present canvas: no +man who knows the great extent and varied +surface of the scene which such a picture should +embrace, will think that there is here even an +outline finished. +</p> + +<p> +We might have recommended early marriages; +and marriage with first cousins. We +might have urged all men with heritable maladies +to shun celibacy. We might have praised +tobacco, which, by acting on the mucous membrane +of the mouth, acts on the same membrane +in the stomach also (precisely as disorder +of the stomach will communicate disorder to the +mouth), and so helps in establishing a civilized +digestion and a pallid face. +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>But we woll stint of this matere</q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>For it is wondir long to here.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +It is inherent in man to be perverse. A drawing-room +critic, in one of Gait's novels, takes up +a picture of a cow, holds it inverted, and enjoys +it as a castellated mansion with four corner +towers. And so, since <q>all that moveth doth +mutation love,</q> after a like fashion, many people, +it appears, have looked upon these papers. +There is a story to the point in Lucian. Passus +received commission from a connoisseur to draw +a horse with his legs upward. He drew it in the +usual way. His customer came unannounced, +saw what had been done, and grumbled fearfully. +Passus, however, turned his picture up-side +down, and then the connoisseur was satisfied. +These papers have been treated like the horse of +Passus. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Stimatissimo Signor Boswell</q> says, in his +book on Corsica, that he rode out one day on +Paoli's charger, gay with gold and scarlet, and +surrounded by the chieftain's officers. For a +while, he says, he thought he was a hero. +Thus, like a goose on horseback, has our present +writer visited some few of the chief ægritudinary +outposts. Why not so? They say there is no +way impossible. Wherefore an old emblem-book +has represented Cupid crossing a stream +which parts him from an altar, seated at ease +upon his quiver, for a boat, and rowing with a +pair of arrows. So has the writer floated over +on a barrel of his folly, and possibly may touch, +O reader, at the Altar of your Household Gods. +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<pb n='627'/><anchor id='Pg627'/> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Sorrows And Joys. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l>Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise</l> +<l>As souls to the immortal skies,</l> +<l>And then look down like mothers' eyes.</l> +<l>But let thy joys be fresh as flowers,</l> +<l>That suck the honey of the showers,</l> +<l>And bloom alike on huts and towers.</l> +<l>So shall thy days be sweet and bright—</l> +<l>Solemn and sweet thy starry night—</l> +<l>Conscious of love each change of light.</l> +<l>The stars will watch the flowers asleep,</l> +<l>The flowers will feel the soft stars weep,</l> +<l>And both will mix sensations deep.</l> +<l>With these below, with those above,</l> +<l>Sits evermore the brooding Dove,</l> +<l>Uniting both in bonds of love.</l> +<l>Children of Earth are these; and those</l> +<l>The spirits of intense repose—</l> +<l>Death radiant o'er all human woes.</l> +<l>For both by nature are akin;</l> +<l>Sorrow, the ashen fruit of sin,</l> +<l>And joy, the juice of life within.</l> +<l>O, make thy sorrows holy—wise—</l> +<l>So shall their buried memories rise,</l> +<l>Celestial, e'en in mortal skies.</l> +<l>O, think what then had been their doom,</l> +<l>If all unshriven—without a tomb—</l> +<l>They had been left to haunt the gloom!</l> +<l>O, think again what they will be</l> +<l>Beneath God's bright serenity,</l> +<l>When thou art in eternity!</l> +<l>For they, in their salvation, know</l> +<l>No vestige of their former woe,</l> +<l>While thro' them all the Heavens do flow.</l> +<l>Thus art thou wedded to the skies,</l> +<l>And watched by ever-loving eyes,</l> +<l>And warned by yearning sympathies.</l> +</lg> +</quote> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Maurice Tiernay, The Soldier Of Fortune. +(From the Dublin University Magazine)</head> + +<p> +(<hi rend='italic'>Continued from Page</hi> 499.) +</p> + +<div> +<head>Chapter XII. <q>A Glance At Staff-Duty.</q></head> + +<p> +Although the passage of the Rhine was +but the prelude to the attack on the fortress, +that exploit being accomplished, Kehl was +carried at the point of the bayonet, the French +troops entering the outworks pell-mell with the +retreating enemy, and in less than two hours +after the landing of our first detachments, the +<q>tri-color</q> waved over the walls of the fortress. +</p> + +<p> +Lost amid the greater and more important +successes which since that time have immortalized +the glory of the French arms, it is almost +impossible to credit the celebrity attached at +that time to this brilliant achievement, whose +highest merits probably were rapidity and resolution. +Moreau had long been jealous of the +fame of his great rival, Bonaparte, whose tactics, +rejecting the colder dictates of prudent +strategy, and the slow progress of scientific +manoeuvres, seemed to place all his confidence +in the sudden inspirations of his genius, and +the indomitable bravery of his troops. It was +necessary, then, to raise the <foreign rend='italic'>morale</foreign> of the army +of the Rhine, to accomplish some great feat +similar in boldness and heroism to the wonderful +achievements of the Italian army. Such +was the passage of the Rhine at Strasbourg, +effected in the face of a great enemy, advantageously +posted, and supported by one of the +strongest of all the frontier fortresses. +</p> + +<p> +The morning broke upon us in all the exultation +of our triumph, and as our cheers rose high +over the field of the late struggle, each heart +beat proudly with the thought of how that news +would be received in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You'll see how the bulletin will spoil all,</q> +said a young officer of the army of Italy, as he +was getting his wound dressed on the field. +<q>There will be such a long narrative of irrelevant +matter—such details of this, that, and +t'other—that the public will scarce know +whether the placard announces a defeat or a +victory.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Parbleu!</q> replied an old veteran of the +Rhine army, <q>what would you have? You'd +not desire to omit the military facts of such an +exploit?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>To be sure I would,</q> rejoined the other. +<q>Give me one of our young general's bulletins, +short, stirring, and effective—<q>Soldiers! you +have crossed the Rhine against an army double +your own in numbers and munitions of war. +You have carried a fortress, believed impregnable, +at the bayonet. Already the great flag of +our nation waves over the citadel you have won. +Forward, then, and cease not till it float over +the cities of conquered Germany, and let the +<pb n='628'/><anchor id='Pg628'/> +name of France be that of Empire over the +continent of Europe.</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ha! I like that,</q> cried I, enthusiastically; +<q>that's the bulletin to my fancy. Repeat it +once more, mon lieutenant, that I may write it +in my note-book.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What! hast thou a note-book?</q> cried an +old staff-officer, who was preparing to mount +his horse; <q>let's see it, lad.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With a burning cheek and trembling hand, I +drew my little journal from the breast of my +jacket, and gave it to him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sacre bleu!</q> exclaimed he, in a burst of +laughter, <q>what have we here? Why, this is +a portrait of old General Morieier, and, although +a caricature, a perfect likeness. And +here comes a plan for <q>manoeuvring a squadron +by threes from the left.</q> This is better—it is +a receipt for an <q>Omelette à la Hussard;</q> and +here we have a love-song, and a mustache-paste, +with some hints about devotion, and diseased +frog in horses. Most versatile genius, +certainly!</q> And so he went on, occasionally +laughing at my rude sketches, and ruder remarks, +till he came to a page headed <q>Equitation, +as practiced by Officers of the Staff,</q> and +followed by a series of caricatures of bad riding, +in all its moods and tenses. The flush of anger +which instantly colored his face, soon attracted +the notice of those about him, and one of the +bystanders quickly snatched the book from his +fingers, and, in the midst of a group all convulsed +with laughter, proceeded to expatiate +upon my illustrations. To be sure, they were +absurd enough. Some were represented sketching +on horseback, under shelter of an umbrella; +others were <q>taking the depth of a stream</q> by +a <q>header</q> from their own saddles; some, +again, were <q>exploring ground for an attack in +line,</q> by a measurement of the rider's own +length over the head of his horse. Then there +were ridiculous situations, such as <q>sitting +down before a fortress,</q> <q>taking an angle of +incidence,</q> and so on. Sorry jests, all of them, +but sufficient to amuse those with whose daily +associations they chimed in, and to whom certain +traits of portraiture gave all the zest of a +personality. +</p> + +<p> +My shame at the exposure, and my terror for +its consequences, gradually yielded to a feeling +of flattered vanity at the success of my lucubrations; +and I never remarked that the staff-officer +had ridden away from the group, till I +saw him galloping back at the top of his speed. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is your name Tiernay, my good fellow?</q> +cried he, riding close up to my side, and with +an expression on his features I did not half like. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, sir,</q> replied I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hussar of the Ninth, I believe?</q> repeated +he, reading from a paper in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The same, sir.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, your talents as a draughtsman have +procured you promotion, my friend; I have obtained +your discharge from your regiment, and +you are now my orderly—orderly on the staff, +do you mind? so mount, sir, and follow me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I saluted him respectfully, and prepared to +obey his orders. Already I foresaw the downfall +of all the hopes I had been cherishing, and +anticipated the life of tyranny and oppression +that lay before me. It was clear to me, that +my discharge had been obtained solely as a +means of punishing me, and that Captain Discau, +as the officer was called, had destined me +to a pleasant expiation of my note-book. The +savage exultation with which he watched me, +as I made up my kit and saddled my horse—the +cool malice with which he handed me back +the accursed journal, the cause of all my disasters—gave +me a dark foreboding of what was +to follow; and as I mounted my saddle, my +woeful face, and miserable look, brought forth a +perfect shout of laughter from the bystanders. +</p> + +<p> +Captain Discau's duty was to visit the banks +of the Rhine, and the Eslar island, to take certain +measurements of distances, and obtain accurate +information on various minute points +respecting the late engagement, for, while a +brief announcement of the victory would suffice +for the bulletin, a detailed narrative of the event, +in all its bearings, must be drawn up for the +minister of war, and for this latter purpose +various staff-officers were then employed in different +parts of the field. +</p> + +<p> +As we issued from the fortress, and took our +way over the plain, we struck out into a sharp +gallop; but, as we drew near the river, our +passage became so obstructed by lines of baggage-wagons, +tumbrils, and ammunition-carts, +that we were obliged to dismount and proceed +on foot; and now I was to see, for the first time, +that dreadful picture, which, on the day after +a battle, forms the reverse of the great medal +of glory. Huge litters of wounded men on +their way back to Strasbourg, were drawn by +six or eight horses, their jolting motion increasing +the agony of sufferings that found their vent +in terrific cries and screams; oaths, yells, and +blasphemies, the ravings of madness, and the +wild shouts of infuriated suffering, filled the air +on every side. As if to give the force of contrast +to this uproar of misery, two regiments of +Swabian infantry marched past as prisoners. +Silent, crest-fallen, and wretched-looking, they +never raised their eyes from the ground, but +moved, or halted, wheeled, or stood at ease, as +though by some impulse of mechanism; a cord +coupled the wrists of the outer files, one with +another, which struck me less as a measure of +security against escape, than as a mark of indignity. +</p> + +<p> +Carts and charettes with wounded officers, +in which often-times the uniform of the enemy +appeared side by side with our own, followed +in long procession; and thus were these two +great currents—the one hurrying forward, ardent, +high-hearted, and enthusiastic; the other +returning maimed, shattered, and dying! +</p> + +<p> +It was an affecting scene to see the hurried +gestures, and hear the few words of adieu, as +they passed each other. Old comrades who +were never to meet again, parted with a little +<pb n='629'/><anchor id='Pg629'/> +motion of the hand; sometimes a mere look +was all their leave-taking: save when, now +and then, a halt would for a few seconds bring +the two lines together, and then many a bronzed +and rugged cheek was pressed upon the faces +of the dying, and many a tear fell from eyes +bloodshot with the fury of the battle! Wending +our way on foot slowly along, we at last reached +the river side, and having secured a small skiff, +made for the Eslar island; our first business being +to ascertain some details respecting the intrenchments +there, and the depth and strength of the +stream between it and the left bank. Discau, +who was a distinguished officer, rapidly possessed +himself of the principal facts he wanted, +and then, having given me his portfolio, he seated +himself under the shelter of a broken wagon, +and opening a napkin, began his breakfast off a +portion of a chicken and some bread—viands +which, I own, more than once made my lips +water as I watched him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You've eaten nothing to-day, Tiernay?</q> +asked he, as he wiped his lips, with the air of a +man that feels satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Nothing, mon capitaine,</q> replied I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>That's bad,</q> said he, shaking his head; <q>a +soldier can not do his duty, if his rations be neglected. +I have always maintained the principle: +Look to the men's necessaries—take care +of their food and clothing. Is there any thing +on that bone there?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Nothing, mon capitaine.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I'm sorry for it; I meant it for you; put +up that bread, and the remainder of that flask +of wine. Bourdeaux is not to be had every +day. We shall want it for supper, Tiernay.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I did as I was bid, wondering not a little +why he said <q><emph>we</emph>,</q> seeing how little a share I +occupied in the co-partnery. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Always be careful of the morrow on a +campaign, Tiernay—no squandering, no waste; +that's one of my principles,</q> said he, gravely, +as he watched me while I tied up the bread and +wine in the napkin. <q>You'll soon see the advantage +of serving under an old soldier.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I confess the great benefit had not already +struck me, but I held my peace and waited; +meanwhile he continued— +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have studied my profession from my boyhood, +and one thing I have acquired, that all +experience has confirmed, the knowledge, that +men must neither be taxed beyond their ability +nor their endurance; a French soldier, after all, +is human; eh, is't not so?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I feel it most profoundly, mon capitaine,</q> +replied I, with my hand on my empty stomach. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Just so,</q> rejoined he; <q>every man of sense +and discretion must confess it. Happily for you, +too, I know it; ay, Tiernay, I know it, and +practice it. When a young fellow has acquitted +himself to my satisfaction during the day—not +that I mean to say that the performance has not +its fair share of activity and zeal—when evening +comes and stable duty finished, arms burnished, +and accoutrements cleaned, what do you think +I say to him?—eh, Tiernay, just guess now?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Probably, sir, you tell him he is free to +spend an hour at the canteen, or take his sweetheart +to the theatre.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What! more fatigue! more exhaustion to +an already tired and worn-out nature!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I ask pardon, sir, I see I was wrong; but +I had forgotten how thoroughly the poor fellow +was done up. I now see that you told him to +go to bed.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>To bed! to bed! Is it that he might +writhe in the nightmare, or suffer agony from +cramps? To bed after fatigue like this! No, +no, Tiernay, that was not the school in which <emph>I</emph> +was brought up; <emph>we</emph> were taught to think of +the men under our command; to remember that +they had wants, sympathies, hopes, fears, and +emotions like our own. I tell him to seat himself +at the table, and with pen, ink, and paper before +him, to write up the blanks. I see you don't +quite understand me, Tiernay, as to the meaning +of the phrase, but I'll let you into the +secret. You have been kind enough to give +me a peep at your note-book, and you shall in +return have a look at mine. Open that volume, +and tell me what you find in it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I obeyed the direction, and read at the top of +a page, the words <q>Skeleton, 5th Prairial,</q> in +large characters, followed by several isolated +words, denoting the strength of a brigade, the +number of guns in a battery, the depth of a +fosse, the height of a parapet, and such like. +These were usually followed by a flourish of +the pen, or sometimes by the word <q>Bom.</q> +which singular monosyllable always occurred +at the foot of the pages. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, have you caught the key to the +cipher?</q> said he, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not quite, sir,</q> said I, pondering; <q>I can +perceive that the chief facts stand prominently +forward, in a fair, round hand; I can also guess +that the flourishes may be spaces left for detail; +but this word <q>Bom.</q> puzzles me completely.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Quite correct, as to the first part,</q> said he, +approvingly; <q>and as to the mysterious monosyllable, +it is nothing more than an abbreviation +for <q>Bombaste,</q> which is always to be done to +the taste of each particular commanding officer.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I perceive, sir,</q> said I, quickly; <q>like the +wadding of a gun, which may increase the loudness, +but never affect the strength of the shot.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Precisely, Tiernay; you have hit it exactly. +Now I hope that, with a little practice, you may +be able to acquit yourself respectably in this +walk; and now to begin our skeleton. Turn +over to a fresh page, and write as I dictate to +you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So saying, he filled his pipe and lighted it, +and disposing his limbs in an attitude of perfect +ease, he began: +</p> + +<p> +<q>8th Thermidor, midnight—twelve battalions, +and two batteries of field—boats and rafts—Eslar +island—stockades—eight guns—Swabian infantry—sharp +firing, and a flourish—strong current—flourish—detachment of the 28th +carried down—<q>Bom.</q> Let me see it now—all right—nothing +could be better—proceed. The 10th, +<pb n='630'/><anchor id='Pg630'/> +45th, and 48th landing together—more firing—flourish—first +gun captured—Bom.—bayonet +charges—Bom. Bom.—three guns taken—Bom. +Bom. Bom.—Swabs in retreat—flourish. The +bridge eighty toises in length—flanking fire—heavy +loss—flourish.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You go a little too fast, mon capitaine,</q> +said I, for a sudden bright thought just flashed +across me. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very well,</q> said he, shaking the ashes of +his pipe out upon the rock, <q>I'll take my doze, +and you may awaken me when you've filled in +those details—it will be a very fair exercise for +you;</q> and with this he threw his handkerchief +over his face, and without any other preparation +was soon fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +I own that, if I had not been a spectator of +the action, it would have been very difficult, if +not impossible, for me to draw up any thing +like a narrative of it, from the meagre details +of the captain's note-book. My personal observations, +however, assisted by an easy imagination, +suggested quite enough to make at least +a plausible story, and I wrote away without impediment +and halt till I came to that part of the +action in which the retreat over the bridge commenced. +There I stopped. Was I to remain +satisfied with such a crude and one-sided explanation +as the note-book afforded, and merely +say that the retreating forces were harassed by +a strong flank fire from our batteries? Was I to +omit the whole of the great incident, the occupation +of the <q>Fels Insel,</q> and the damaging discharges +of grape and round shot which plunged +through the crowded ranks, and ultimately destroyed +the bridge? Could I—to use the phrase +so popular—could I, in the <q>interests of truth,</q> +forget the brilliant achievement of a gallant +band of heroes who, led on by a young hussar +of the 9th, threw themselves into the <q>Fels +Insel,</q> routed the garrison, captured the artillery, +and directing its fire upon the retiring +enemy, contributed most essentially to the victory. +Ought I, in a word, to suffer a name so +associated with a glorious action to sink into +oblivion? Should Maurice Tiernay be lost to +fame out of any neglect or false shame on my +part? Forbid it all truth and justice, cried I, +as I set myself down to relate the whole adventure +most circumstantially. Looking up +from time to time at my officer, who slept +soundly, I suffered myself to dilate upon a +theme in which somehow, I felt a more than +ordinary degree of interest. The more I dwelt +upon the incident, the more brilliant and striking +did it seem. Like the appetite, which the +proverb tells us comes by eating, my enthusiasm +grew under indulgence, so that, had a little +more time been granted me, I verily believe I +should have forgotten Moreau altogether, and +coupled only Maurice Tiernay with the passage +of the Rhine, and the capture of the fortress of +Kehl. Fortunately Captain Discau awoke, and +cut short my historic recollections, by asking +me how much I had done, and telling me to +read it aloud to him. +</p> + +<p> +I accordingly began to read my narrative +slowly and deliberately, thereby giving myself +time to think what I should best do when I came +to that part which became purely personal. To +omit it altogether would have been dangerous, +as the slightest glance at the mass of writing +would have shown the deception. There was, +then, nothing left, but to invent at the moment +another version, in which Maurice Tiernay never +occurred, and the incident of the Fels Insel should +figure as unobtrusively as possible. I was always +a better improvisatore than amanuensis; so that +without a moment's loss of time I fashioned a new +and very different narrative, and detailing the +battle tolerably accurately, <emph>minus</emph> the share my +own heroism had taken in it. The captain made +a few, a very few corrections of my style, in +which the <q>flourish</q> and <q>bom,</q> figured, perhaps, +too conspicuously; and then told me frankly, +that once upon a time he had been fool enough +to give himself great trouble in framing these +kind of reports, but that having served for a +short period in the <q>bureau</q> of the minister of +war, he had learned better. <q>In fact,</q> said +he, <q>a district report is never read! Some +hundreds of them reach the office of the minister +every day, and are safely deposited in the <q>archives</q> +of the department. They have all, besides, +such a family resemblance, that with a +few changes in the name of the commanding +officer, any battle in the Netherlands would do +equally well for one fought beyond the Alps! +Since I became acquainted with this fact, Tiernay, +I have bestowed less pains upon the matter, +and usually deputed the task to some smart orderly +of the staff.</q> +</p> + +<p> +So thought I, I have been writing history for +nothing; and Maurice Tiernay, the real hero of +the passage of the Rhine, will be unrecorded +and unremembered, just for want of one honest +and impartial scribe to transmit his name to +posterity. The reflection was not a very encouraging +one; nor did it serve to lighten the +toil in which I passed many weary hours, copying +out my own precious manuscript. Again +and again during that night did I wonder at my +own diffuseness—again and again did I curse +the prolix accuracy of a description that cost +such labor to reiterate. It was like a species +of poetical justice on me for my own amplifications; +and when the day broke, and I still sat +at my table writing on, at the third copy of this +precious document, I vowed a vow of brevity, +should I ever survive to indite similar compositions. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter XIII. A Farewell Letter.</head> + +<p> +It was in something less than a week after, that +I entered upon my new career as orderly in the +staff, when I began to believe myself the most +miserable of all human beings. On the saddle +at sunrise, I never dismounted, except to carry +a measuring-chain, <q>to step distances,</q> mark +out intrenchments, and then write away, for +<pb n='631'/><anchor id='Pg631'/> +hours, long enormous reports, that were to be +models of calligraphy, neatness, and elegance—and +never to be read. Nothing could be less +like soldiering than the life I led; and were it +not for the clanking sabre I wore at my side, +and the jingling spurs that decorated my heels, +I might have fancied myself a notary's clerk. It +was part of General Moreau's plan to strengthen +the defenses of Kehl before he advanced further +into Germany; and to this end repairs were begun +upon a line of earth-works, about two leagues +to the northward of the fortress, at a small village +called <q>Ekheim.</q> In this miserable little +hole, one of the dreariest spots imaginable, we +were quartered, with two companies of <q>sapeurs</q> +and some of the wagon-train, trenching, +digging, carting earth, sinking wells, and in fact +engaged in every kind of labor save that which +seemed to be characteristic of a soldier. +</p> + +<p> +I used to think that Nancy and the riding-school +were the most dreary and tiresome of all +destinies, but they were enjoyments and delight +compared with this. Now it very often happens +in life, that when a man grows discontented and +dissatisfied with mere monotony, when he chafes +at the sameness of a tiresome and unexciting +existence, he is rapidly approaching to some +critical or eventful point, where actual peril and +real danger assail him, and from which he would +willingly buy his escape by falling back upon +that wearisome and plodding life he had so often +deplored before. This case was my own. Just +as I had convinced myself that I was exceedingly +wretched and miserable, I was to know there +are worse things in this world than a life of mere +uniform stupidity. I was waiting outside my +captain's door for orders one morning, when at +the tinkle of his little hand-bell I entered the +room where he sat at breakfast, with an open +dispatch before him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Tiernay,</q> said he, in his usual quiet tone, +<q>here is an order from the adjutant-general to +send you back under an escort to head-quarters. +Are you aware of any reason for it, or is there +any charge against you which warrants this?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not to my knowledge, mon capitaine,</q> said +I, trembling with fright, for I well knew with +what severity discipline was exercised in that +army, and how any, even the slightest, infractions +met the heaviest penalties. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have never known you to pillage,</q> continued +he; <q>have never seen you drink, nor +have you been disobedient while under my command; +yet this order could not be issued on +light grounds; there must be some grave accusation +against you, and in any case you must +go; therefore arrange all my papers, put every +thing in due order, and be ready to return with +the orderly.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You'll give me a good character, mon capitaine,</q> +said I, trembling more than ever—<q>you'll +say what you can for me, I'm sure.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Willingly, if the general or chief were here,</q> +replied he; <q>but that's not so. General Moreau +is at Strasbourg. It is General Regnier is in +command of the army; and unless specially applied +to, I could not venture upon the liberty of +obtruding my opinion upon him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is he so severe, sir?</q> asked I, timidly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The general is a good disciplinarian,</q> said +he, cautiously, while he motioned with his hand +toward the door, and accepting the hint, I retired. +</p> + +<p> +It was evening when I re-entered Kehl, under +an escort of two of my own regiment, and was +conducted to the <q>Salle de Police.</q> At the +door stood my old corporal, whose malicious +grin as I alighted revealed the whole story of +my arrest; and I now knew the charge that +would be preferred against me—a heavier there +could not be made—was, <q>disobedience in the +field.</q> I slept very little that night, and when +I did close my eyes, it was to awake with a sudden +start, and believe myself in presence of the +court-martial, or listening to my sentence, as +read out by the president. Toward day, however, +I sunk into a heavy, deep slumber, from +which I was aroused by the reveillée of the +barracks. +</p> + +<p> +I had barely time to dress when I was summoned +before the <q>Tribunale Militaire</q>—a +sort of permanent court-martial, whose sittings +were held in one of the churches of the town. +Not even all the terror of my own precarious +position could overcome the effect of old prejudices +in my mind, as I saw myself led up the +dim aisle of the church toward the altar rails, +within which, around a large table, were seated +a number of officers, whose manner and bearing +evinced but little reverence for the sacred character +of the spot. +</p> + +<p> +Stationed in a group of poor wretches whose +wan looks and anxious glances told that they +were prisoners like myself, I had time to see +what was going forward around me. The +president, who alone wore his hat, read from a +sort of list before him the name of a prisoner +and that of the witnesses in the cause. In an +instant they were all drawn up and sworn. A +few questions followed, rapidly put, and almost +as rapidly replied to. The prisoner was called +on then for his defense: if this occupied many +minutes, he was sure to be interrupted by an +order to be brief. Then came the command to +<q>stand by;</q> and after a few seconds consultation +together, in which many times a burst of +laughter might be heard, the court agreed upon +the sentence, recorded and signed it, and then +proceeded with the next case. +</p> + +<p> +If nothing in the procedure imposed reverence +or respect, there was that in the dispatch +which suggested terror, for it was plain to see +that the court thought more of the cost of their +own precious minutes than of the years of those +on whose fate they were deciding. I was sufficiently +near to hear the charges of those who +were arraigned, and, for the greater number, +they were all alike. Pillage, in one form or +another, was the universal offending; and from +the burning of a peasant's cottage, to the theft +of his dog or his <q>poulet,</q> all came under this +head. At last came number 82—<q>Maurice +<pb n='632'/><anchor id='Pg632'/> +Tiernay, hussar of the Ninth.</q> I stepped forward +to the rails. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Maurice Tiernay,</q> read the president, hurriedly, +<q>accused by Louis Gaussin, corporal of +the same regiment, <q>of willfully deserting his +post while on duty in the field, and in the face +of direct orders to the contrary; inducing others +to a similar breach of discipline.</q> Make the +change, Gaussin.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The corporal stepped forward, and began, +</p> + +<p> +<q>We were stationed in detachment on the +bank of the Rhine, on the evening of the 23d—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The court has too many duties to lose its +time for nothing,</q> interrupted I. <q>It is all +true. I did desert my post; I did disobey orders; +and, seeing a weak point in the enemy's +line, attacked and carried it with success. The +charge is, therefore, admitted by me, and it only +remains for the court to decide how far a soldier's +zeal for his country may be deserving of punishment. +Whatever the result, one thing is perfectly +clear, Corporal Gaussin will never be indicted +for a similar misdemeanor.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A murmur of voices and suppressed laughter +followed this impertinent and not over discreet +sally of mine; and the president calling out, +<q>Proven by acknowledgment,</q> told me to +<q>stand by.</q> I now fell back to my former +place, to be interrogated by my comrades on +the result of my examination, and hear their +exclamations of surprise and terror at the rashness +of my conduct. A little reflection over +the circumstances would probably have brought +me over to their opinion, and shown me that I +had gratuitously thrown away an opportunity +of self-defense; but my temper could not brook +the indignity of listening to the tiresome accusation +and the stupid malevolence of the corporal, +whose hatred was excited by the influence I +wielded over my comrades. +</p> + +<p> +It was long past noon ere the proceedings +terminated, for the list was a full one, and at +length the court rose, apparently not sorry to +exchange their tiresome duties for the pleasant +offices of the dinner-table. No sentences had +been pronounced, but one very striking incident +seemed to shadow forth a gloomy future. Three, +of whom I was one, were marched off, doubly +guarded, before the rest, and confined in separate +cells of the <q>Salle,</q> where every precaution +against escape too plainly showed the importance +attached to our safe keeping. +</p> + +<p> +At about eight o'clock, as I was sitting on +my bed—if that inclined plane of wood, worn +by the form of many a former prisoner, could +deserve the name—a sergeant entered with the +prison allowance of bread and water. He placed +it beside me without speaking, and stood for a +few seconds gazing at me. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What age art thou, lad?</q> said he, in a +voice of compassionate interest. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Something over fifteen, I believe,</q> replied I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hast father and mother?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Both are dead!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Uncles or aunts living?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Neither.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hast any friends who could help thee?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That might depend upon what the occasion +for help should prove, for I have one friend in +the world.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Who is he?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Colonel Mahon, of the Curaissiers.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I never heard of him—is he here?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No; I left him at Nancy; but I could write +to him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It would be too late, much too late.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>How do you mean—too late?</q> asked I, +tremblingly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Because it is fixed for to-morrow evening,</q> +replied he, in a low, hesitating voice. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What? the—the—</q> I could not say the +word, but merely imitated the motion of presenting +and firing. He nodded gravely in acquiescence. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What hour is it to take place?</q> asked I. +</p> + +<p> +<q>After evening parade. The sentence must +be signed by General Berthier, and he will not +be here before that time.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It would be too late, then, sergeant,</q> said I, +musing, <q>far too late. Still I should like to +write the letter; I would like to thank him for +his kindness in the past, and show him, too, +that I have not been either unworthy or ungrateful. +Could you let me have paper and +pen, sergeant?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I can venture so far, lad; but I can not let +thee have a light; it is against orders; and +during the day thou'lt be too strictly watched.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No matter let me have the paper and I'll +try to scratch a few lines in the dark; and thou'lt +post it for me, sergeant? I ask thee as a last +favor to do this.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I promise it,</q> said he, laying his hand on +my shoulder. After standing for a few minutes +thus in silence, he started suddenly and left the +cell. +</p> + +<p> +I now tried to eat my supper; but although +resolved on behaving with a stout and unflinching +courage throughout the whole sad +event, I could not swallow a mouthful. A sense +of choking stopped me at every attempt, and +even the water I could only get down by gulps. +The efforts I made to bear up seemed to have +caused a species of hysterical excitement that +actually rose to the height of intoxication, for I +talked away loudly to myself, laughed, and sung. +I even jested and mocked myself on this sudden +termination of a career that I used to anticipate +as stored with future fame and rewards. At +intervals, I have no doubt that my mind wandered +far beyond the control of reason, but as constantly +came back again to a full consciousness +of my melancholy position, and the fate that +awaited me. The noise of the key in the door +silenced my ravings, and I sat still and motionless +as the sergeant entered with the pen, ink, +and paper, which he laid down upon the bed, +and then as silently withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +A long interval of stupor, a state of dreary +half consciousness, now came over me, from +which I aroused myself with great difficulty to +write the few lines I destined for Colonel Mahon. +<pb n='633'/><anchor id='Pg633'/> +I remember even now, long as has been +the space of years since that event, full as it has +been of stirring and strange incidents, I remember +perfectly the thought which flashed across +me as I sat, pen in hand, before the paper. It +was the notion of a certain resemblance between +our actions in this world with the characters I +was about to inscribe upon that paper. Written +in darkness and in doubt, thought I, how shall +they appear when brought to the light! Perhaps +those I have deemed the best and fairest +shall seem but to be the weakest or the worst! +What need of kindness to forgive the errors, +and of patience to endure the ignorance! At +last I began: <q>Mon Colonel—Forgive, I +pray you, the errors of these lines, penned in +the darkness of my cell, and the night before +my death. They are written to thank you ere +I go hence, and to tell you that the poor heart +whose beating will soon be still throbbed gratefully +toward you to the last! I have been sentenced +to death for a breach of discipline of +which I was guilty. Had I failed in the achievement +of my enterprise by the bullet of an enemy, +they would have named me with honor; but I +have had the misfortune of success, and tomorrow +am I to pay its penalty. I have the satisfaction, +however, of knowing that my share in +that great day can neither be denied nor evaded; +it is already on record, and the time may yet +come when my memory will be vindicated. I +know not if these lines be legible, nor if I have +crossed or recrossed them. If they are blotted +they are not my tears have done it, for I have +a firm heart and a good courage; and when +the moment comes—</q>; here my hand trembled +so much, and my brain grew so dizzy, that I +lost the thread of my meaning, and merely jotted +down at random a few words, vague, unconnected, +and unintelligible, after which, and by an +effort that cost all my strength, I wrote <q><hi rend='smallcaps'>Maurice +Tierney</hi>, late Hussar of the 9th Regiment.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A hearty burst of tears followed the conclusion +of this letter; all the pent-up emotion with which +my heart was charged broke out at last, and I +cried bitterly. Intense passions are, happily, +never of long duration, and better still, they are +always the precursors of calm. Thus, tranquil, +the dawn of morn broke upon me, when the +sergeant came to take my letter, and apprize +me that the adjutant would appear in a few moments +to read my sentence, and inform me when +it was to be executed. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Thou'lt bear up well, lad; I know thou +wilt,</q> said the poor fellow, with tears in his +eyes. <q>Thou hast no mother, and thou'lt not +have to grieve for <emph>her</emph>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Don't be afraid, sergeant; I'll not disgrace +the old 9th. Tell my comrades I said so.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I will. I will tell them all! Is this thy +jacket, lad?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes; what do you want it for?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I must take it away with me. Thou art +not to wear it more!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not wear it, nor die in it; and why not?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That is the sentence, lad; I can not help it. +It's very hard, very cruel; but so it is.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then I am to die dishonored, sergeant; is +that the sentence?</q> +</p> + +<p> +He dropped his head, and I could see that he +moved his sleeve across his eyes; and then, +taking up my jacket, he came toward me. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Remember, lad, a stout heart; no flinching. +Adieu—God bless thee.</q> He kissed me on +either cheek, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +He had not been gone many minutes, when +the tramp of marching outside apprized me of +the coming of the adjutant, and the door of my +cell being thrown open, I was ordered to walk +forth into the court of the prison. Two squadrons +of my own regiment, all who were not on +duty, were drawn up, dismounted, and without +arms; beside them stood a company of grenadiers, +and a half battalion of the line, the corps +to which the other two prisoners belonged, and +who now came forward, in shirt-sleeves like +myself, into the middle of the court. +</p> + +<p> +One of my fellow-sufferers was a very old +soldier, whose hair and beard were white as +snow; the other was a middle-aged man, of a +dark and forbidding aspect, who scowled at me +angrily as I came up to his side, and seemed as +if he scorned the companionship. I returned a +glance, haughty and as full of defiance as his +own, and never noticed him after. +</p> + +<p> +The drum beat a roll, and the word was +given for silence in the ranks—an order so +strictly obeyed, that even the clash of a weapon +was unheard, and stepping in front of the line, +the Auditeur Militaire read out the sentences. +As for me, I heard but the words <q>Peine afflictive +et infamante;</q> all the rest became confusion, +shame, and terror co-mingled; nor did I +know that the ceremonial was over, when the +troops began to defile, and we were marched +back again to our prison quarters. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter XIV. A Surprise And An Escape.</head> + +<p> +It is a very common subject of remark in +newspapers, and as invariably repeated with +astonishment by the readers, how well and +soundly such a criminal slept on the night before +his execution. It reads like a wonderful +evidence of composure, or some not less surprising +proof of apathy or indifference. I really +believe it has as little relation to one feeling as +to the other, and is simply the natural consequence +of faculties over-strained, and a brain +surcharged with blood; sleep being induced by +causes purely physical in their nature. For +myself, I can say that I was by no means indifferent +to life, nor had I any contempt for the +form of death that awaited me. As localities, +which have failed to inspire a strong attachment, +become endowed with a certain degree of +interest when we are about to part from them +forever, I never held life so desirable as now +that I was going to leave it; and yet, with all +this, I fell into a sleep so heavy and profound, +<pb n='634'/><anchor id='Pg634'/> +that I never awoke till late in the evening. +Twice was I shaken by the shoulder ere I +could throw off the heavy weight of slumber; +and even when I looked up, and saw the armed +figures around me, I could have laid down once +more, and composed myself to another sleep. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing which thoroughly aroused +me, and at once brightened up my slumbering +senses, was missing my jacket, for which I +searched every corner of my cell, forgetting that +it had been taken away, as the nature of my +sentence was declared <q>infamante.</q> The next +shock was still greater, when two sapeurs came +forward to tie my wrists together behind my +back; I neither spoke nor resisted, but in silent +submission complied with each order given +me. +</p> + +<p> +All preliminaries being completed, I was led +forward, preceded by a pioneer, and guarded on +either side by two sapeurs of <q>the guard;</q> a +muffled drum, ten paces in advance, keeping up +a low monotonous rumble as we went. +</p> + +<p> +Our way led along the ramparts, beside +which ran a row of little gardens, in which the +children of the officers were at play. They +ceased their childish gambols as we drew near, +and came closer up to watch us. I could mark +the terror and pity in their little faces as they +gazed at me; I could see the traits of compassion +with which they pointed me out to each +other, and my heart swelled with gratitude for +even so slight a sympathy. It was with difficulty +I could restrain the emotion of that moment, +but with a great effort I did subdue it, +and marched on, to all seeming, unmoved. A +little further on, as we turned the angle of the +wall, I looked back to catch one last look at +them. Would that I had never done so! They +had quitted the railings, and were now standing +in a group, in the act of performing a mimic +execution. One, without his jacket, was kneeling +on the grass. But I could not bear the +sight, and in scornful anger I closed my eyes, +and saw no more. +</p> + +<p> +A low whispering conversation was kept up +by the soldiers around me. They were grumbling +at the long distance they had to march, as +the <q>affair</q> might just as well have taken +place on the glacis as two miles away. How +different were <emph>my</emph> feelings—how dear to me +was now every minute, every second of existence; +how my heart leaped at each turn of the +way, as I still saw a space to traverse, and some +little interval longer to live. +</p> + +<p> +<q>And, mayhap, after all,</q> muttered one dark-faced +fellow, <q>we shall have come all this way +for nothing. There can be no <q>fusillade</q> without +the general's signature, so I heard the adjutant +say; and who's to promise that he'll be at +his quarters?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very true,</q> said another; <q>he may be +absent, or at table.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>At table!</q> cried two or three together; +<q>and what if he were?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If he be,</q> rejoined the former speaker, +<q>we may go back again for our pains! I +ought to know him well; I was his orderly for +eight months, when I served in the <q>Legers,</q> +and can tell you, my lads, I wouldn't be the +officer who would bring him a report, or a +return to sign, once he had opened out his napkin +on his knee; and it's not very far from his +dinner-hour now.</q> +</p> + +<p> +What a sudden thrill of hope ran through +me! Perhaps I should be spared for another +day. +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, no, we're all in time,</q> exclaimed the +sergeant; <q>I can see the general's tent from +this; and there he stands, with all his staff +around him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes; and there go the other escorts—they +will be up before us if we don't make haste; +quick-time, lads. Come along, mon cher,</q> said +he, addressing me; <q>thou'rt not tired, I hope.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not tired!</q> replied I; <q>but remember, +sergeant, what a long journey I have before +me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign rend='italic'>Pardieu!</foreign> I don't believe all that rhodomontade +about another world,</q> said he gruffly; +<q>the republic settled that question.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I made no reply. For such words, at such +a moment, were the most terrible of tortures to +me. And now we moved on at a brisker +pace, and crossing a little wooden bridge, entered +a kind of esplanade of closely-shaven turf, +at one corner of which stood the capacious tent +of the commander-in-chief, for such, in Moreau's +absence, was General Berthier. Numbers of +staff-officers were riding about on duty, and a +large traveling-carriage, from which the horses +seemed recently detached, stood before the tent. +</p> + +<p> +We halted as we crossed the bridge, while +the adjutant advanced to obtain the signature to +the sentence. My eyes followed him till they +swam with rising tears, and I could not wipe +them away, as my hands were fettered. How +rapidly did my thoughts travel during those few +moments. The good old Père Michel came +back to me in memory, and I tried to think of +the consolation his presence would have afforded +me; but I could do no more than think of +them. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Which is the prisoner Tiernay?</q> cried a +young aid-de-camp, cantering up to where I +was standing. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Here, sir,</q> replied the sergeant, pushing me +forward. +</p> + +<p> +<q>So,</q> rejoined the officer, angrily, <q>this fellow +has been writing letters, it would seem, +reflecting upon the justice of his sentence, and +arraigning the conduct of his judges. Your +epistolary tastes are like to cost you dearly, my +lad; it had been better for you if writing had +been omitted in your education. Reconduct +the others, sergeant, they are respited; this +fellow alone is to undergo his sentence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The other two prisoners gave a short and +simultaneous cry of joy as they fell back, and I +stood alone in front of the escort. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Parbleu! he has forgotten the signature,</q> +said the adjutant, casting his eye over the +paper: <q>he was chattering and laughing all +<pb n='635'/><anchor id='Pg635'/> +the time, with the pen in his hand, and I suppose +fancied that he had signed it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Nathalie was there, perhaps,</q> said the aid-de-camp, +significantly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>She was, and I never saw her looking better. +It's something like eight years since I +saw her last; and I vow she seems not only +handsomer, but fresher and more youthful to-day +than then.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Where is she going; have you heard?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Who can tell? Her passport is like a +firman; she may travel where she pleases. The +rumor of the day says Italy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I thought she looked provoked at Moreau's +absence; it seemed like want of attention on +his part, a lack of courtesy she's not used to.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very true; and her reception of Berthier +was any thing but gracious, although he certainly +displayed all his civilities in her behalf.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Strange days we live in!</q> sighed the other, +<q>when a man's promotion hangs upon the +favorable word of a—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hush! take care! be cautious!</q> whispered +the other. <q>Let us not forget this poor +fellow's business. How are you to settle it? +Is the signature of any consequence? The +whole sentence all is right and regular.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I shouldn't like to omit the signature,</q> said +the other, cautiously; <q>it looks like carelessness, +and might involve us in trouble hereafter.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then we must wait some time, for I see +they are gone to dinner.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>So I perceive,</q> replied the former, as he +lighted his cigar, and seated himself on a bank. +<q>You may let the prisoner sit down, sergeant, +and leave his hands free; he looks wearied and +exhausted.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I was too weak to speak, but I looked my +gratitude; and sitting down upon the grass, +covered my face, and wept heartily. +</p> + +<p> +Although quite close to where the officers +sat together chatting and jesting, I heard little +or nothing of what they said. Already the things +of life had ceased to have any hold upon me; and +I could have heard of the greatest victory, or listened +to a story of the most fatal defeat, without +the slightest interest or emotion. An occasional +word or a name would strike upon my ear, but +leave no impression nor any memory behind it. +</p> + +<p> +The military band was performing various +marches and opera airs before the tent where +the general dined, and in the melody, softened +by distance, I felt a kind of calm and sleepy +repose that lulled me into a species of ecstasy. +</p> + +<p> +At last the music ceased to play, and the +adjutant, starting hurriedly up, called on the +sergeant to move forward. +</p> + +<p> +<q>By Jove!</q> cried he, <q>they seem preparing +for a promenade, and we shall get into a scrape +if Berthier sees us here. Keep your party yonder, +sergeant, out of sight, till I obtain the +signature.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, away he went toward the +tent at a sharp gallop. +</p> + +<p> +A few seconds, and I watched him crossing +the esplanade; he dismounted and disappeared. +A terrible choking sensation was over me, and +I scarcely was conscious that they were again +tying my hands. The adjutant came out again, +and made a sign with his sword. +</p> + +<p> +<q>We are to move on!</q> said the sergeant, +half in doubt. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not at all,</q> broke in the aid-de-camp; <q>he +is making a sign for you to bring up the prisoner! +There, he is repeating the signal; lead +him forward.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I knew very little of how—less still of why—but +we moved on in the direction of the tent, +and in a few minutes stood before it. The +sounds of revelry and laughter, the crash of +voices, and the clink of glasses, together with +the hoarse bray of the brass band, which again +struck up, all were co-mingled in my brain, as, +taking me by the arm, I was led forward within +the tent, and found myself at the foot of a table +covered with all the gorgeousness of silver plate, +and glowing with bouquets of flowers and fruits. +In the one hasty glance I gave, before my lids +fell over my swimming eyes, I could see the +splendid uniforms of the guests as they sat +around the board, and the magnificent costume +of a lady in the place of honor next the head. +</p> + +<p> +Several of those who sat at the lower end of +the table drew back their seats as I came forward, +and seemed as if desirous to give the general +a better view of me. +</p> + +<p> +Overwhelmed by the misery of my fate, as I +stood awaiting my death, I felt as though a +mere word, a look, would have crushed me but +one moment back; but now, as I stood there, before +that group of gazers, whose eyes scanned +me with looks of insolent disdain, or still more +insulting curiosity, a sense of proud defiance +seized me, to confront and dare them with +glances haughty and scornful as their own. It +seemed to me so base and unworthy a part to +summon a poor wretch before them, as if to whet +their new appetite for enjoyment by the aspect +of his misery, that an indignant anger took +possession of me, and I drew myself up to my +full height, and stared at them calm and steadily. +</p> + +<p> +<q>So, then!</q> cried a deep soldier-like voice +from the far-end of the table, which I at once +recognized as the general-in-chief's; <q>so, then, +gentlemen, we have now the honor of seeing +among us the hero of the Rhine! This is the +distinguished individual by whose prowess the +passage of the river was effected, and the +Swabian infantry cut off in their retreat! Is it +not true, sir?</q> said he, addressing me with a +savage scowl. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have had my share in the achievement!</q> +said I, with a cool air of defiance. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Parbleu! you are modest, sir. So had +every drummer-boy that beat his tattoo! But +yours was the part of a great leader, if I err +not?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I made no answer, but stood firm and unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +<q>How do you call the island which you have +immortalized by your valor?</q> +</p> + +<pb n='636'/><anchor id='Pg636'/> + +<p> +<q>The Fels Insel, sir.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Gentlemen, let us drink to the hero of the +Fels Insel,</q> said he, holding up his glass for the +servant to fill it. <q>A bumper—a full, a flowing +bumper! And let him also pledge a toast, +in which his interest must be so brief. Give +him a glass, Contard.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>His hands are tied, mon general.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then free them at once.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The order was obeyed in a second; and I, +summoning up all my courage to seem as easy +and indifferent as they were, lifted the glass to +my lips, and drained it off. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Another glass, now, to the health of this +fair lady, through whose intercession we owe +the pleasure of your company,</q> said the general. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Willingly,</q> said I; <q>and may one so beautiful +seldom find herself in a society so unworthy +of her!</q> +</p> + +<p> +A perfect roar of laughter succeeded the insolence +of this speech; amid which I was half +pushed, half dragged, up to the end of the table, +where the general sat. +</p> + +<p> +<q>How so, Coquin, do you dare to insult a +French general, at the head of his own staff!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If I did, sir, it were quite as brave as to +mock a poor criminal on the way to his execution!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That is the boy! I know him now! the +very same lad!</q> cried the lady, as, stooping +behind Berthier's chair, she stretched out her +hand toward me. <q>Come here; are you not +Colonel Mahon's godson?</q> +</p> + +<p> +I looked her full in the face; and whether her +own thoughts gave the impulse, or that something +in my stare suggested it, she blushed till +her cheek grew crimson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Poor Charles was so fond of him!</q> whispered +she in Berthier's ear; and, as she spoke, +the expression of her face at once recalled where +I had seen her, and I now perceived that she +was the same person I had seen at table with +Colonel Mahon, and whom I believed to be his +wife. +</p> + +<p> +A low whispering conversation now ensued +between the general and her, at the close of +which, he turned to me and said, +</p> + +<p> +<q>Madame Merlancourt has deigned to take +an interest in you—you are pardoned. Remember, +sir, to whom you owe your life, and be +grateful to her for it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I took the hand she extended toward me, and +pressed it to my lips. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Madame,</q> said I, <q>there is but one favor +more I would ask in this world, and with it I +could think myself happy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But can I grant it, mon cher,</q> said she, +smiling. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If I am to judge from the influence I have +seen you wield, madame, here and elsewhere, +this petition will easily be accorded.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A slight flush colored the lady's cheek, while +that of the general became dyed red with anger. +I saw that I had committed some terrible blunder, +but how, or in what, I knew not. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, sir,</q> said Madame Merlancourt, addressing +me with a stately coldness of manner +very different from her former tone, <q>Let us +hear what you ask, for we are already taking +up a vast deal of time that our host would prefer +devoting to his friends, what is it you wish?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My discharge from a service, madame, where +zeal and enthusiasm are rewarded with infamy +and disgrace; my freedom to be any thing but +a French soldier.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You are resolved, sir, that I am not to be +proud of my protégé,</q> said she, haughtily; +<q>what words are these to speak in presence of +a general and his officers?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am bold, madame, as you say, but I am +wronged.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>How so, sir—in what have you been injured?</q> +cried the general, hastily, <q>except in +the excessive condescension which has stimulated +your presumption. But we are really too +indulgent in this long parley. Madame, permit +me to offer you some coffee under the trees. +Contardo, tell the band to follow us. Gentlemen, +we expect the pleasure of your society.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And so saying, Berthier presented his arm to +the lady, who swept proudly past without deigning +to notice me. In a few minutes the tent +was cleared of all, except the servants occupied +in removing the remains of the dessert, and I +fell back unremarked and unobserved, to take +my way homeward to the barracks, more indifferent +to life than ever I had been afraid of +death. +</p> + +<p> +As I am not likely to recur at any length to +the somewhat famous person to whom I owed +my life, I may as well state that her name has +since occupied no inconsiderable share of attention +in France, and her history, under the title +of <q>Mémoires d'une Contemporaine,</q> excited a +degree of interest and anxiety in quarters which +one might have fancied far above the reach of +her revelations. At the time I speak of, I little +knew the character of the age in which such +influences were all powerful, nor how destinies +very different from mine hung upon the favoritism +of <q>La belle Nathalie.</q> Had I known these +things, and still more, had I known the sad fate +to which she brought my poor friend, Colonel +Mahon, I might have scrupled to accept my life +at such hands, or involved myself in a debt of +gratitude to one for whom I was subsequently +to feel nothing but hatred and aversion. It was +indeed a terrible period, and in nothing more so +than the fact, that acts of benevolence and charity +were blended up with features of falsehood, +treachery, and baseness, which made one despair +of humanity, and think the very worst of their +species. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter XV. Scraps Of History.</head> + +<p> +Nothing displays more powerfully the force of +egotism than the simple truth that, when any man +sets himself down to write the events of his life, +the really momentous occurrences in which he +<pb n='637'/><anchor id='Pg637'/> +may have borne a part occupy a conspicuously +small place, when each petty incident of a +merely personal nature, is dilated and extended +beyond all bounds. In one sense, the reader benefits +by this, since there are few impertinences +less forgivable than the obtrusion of some insignificant +name into the narrative of facts that +are meet for history. I have made these remarks +in a spirit of apology to my reader; not +alone for the accuracy of my late detail, but also, +if I should seem in future to dwell but passingly +on the truly important facts of a great campaign, +in which my own part was so humble. +</p> + +<p> +I was a soldier in that glorious army which +Moreau led into the heart of Germany, and +whose victorious career would only have ceased +when they entered the capital of the Empire, +had it not been for the unhappy mistakes of +Jourdan, who commanded the auxiliary forces +in the north. For nigh three months we advanced +steadily and successfully, superior in +every engagement; we only waited for the moment +of junction with Jourdan's army, to declare +the empire our own; when at last came +the terrible tidings that he had been beaten, and +that Latour was advancing from Ulm to turn +our left flank, and cut off our communications +with France. +</p> + +<p> +Two hundred miles from our own frontiers—separated +from the Rhine by that terrible Black +Forest whose defiles are mere gorges between +vast mountains—with an army fifty thousand +strong on one flank, and the Archduke Charles +commanding a force of nigh thirty thousand on +the other—such were the dreadful combinations +which now threatened us with a defeat not less +signal than Jourdan's own. Our strength, however, +lay in a superb army of seventy thousand +unbeaten men, led on by one whose name alone +was victory. +</p> + +<p> +On the 24th of September, the order for retreat +was given; the army began to retire by +slow marches, prepared to contest every inch +of ground, and make every available spot a +battle-field. The baggage and ammunition were +sent on in front, and two days' march in advance. +Behind, a formidable rear-guard was ready to +repulse every attack of the enemy. Before, +however, entering those close defiles by which +his retreat lay, Moreau determined to give one +terrible lesson to his enemy. Like the hunted +tiger turning upon his pursuers, he suddenly +halted at Biberach, and ere Latour, who commanded +the Austrians, was aware of his purpose, +assailed the imperial forces with an attack +on right, centre, and left together. Four thousand +prisoners and eighteen pieces of cannon +were trophies of the victory. +</p> + +<p> +The day after this decisive battle our march +was resumed, and the advanced-guard entered +that narrow and dismal defile which goes by +the name of the <q>Valley of Hell,</q> when our +left and right flanks, stationed at the entrance +of the pass, effectually secured the retreat against +molestation. The voltigeurs of St. Cyr crowning +the heights as we went, swept away the +light troops which were scattered along the +rocky eminences, and in less than a fortnight +our army debouched by Fribourg and Oppenheim +into the valley of the Rhine, not a gun +having been lost, not a caisson deserted, during +that perilous movement. +</p> + +<p> +The Archduke, however, having ascertained +the direction of Moreau's retreat, advanced by +a parallel pass through the Kinzigthal, and attacked +St. Cyr at Nauendorf, and defeated him. +Our right flank, severely handled at Emmendingen, +the whole force was obliged to retreat +on Huningen, and once more we found ourselves +upon the banks of the Rhine, no longer an advancing +army, high in hope, and flushed with +victory, but beaten, harassed, and retreating! +</p> + +<p> +The last few days of that retreat presented a +scene of disaster such as I can never forget. To +avoid the furious charges of the Austrian cavalry, +against which our own could no longer make +resistance, we had fallen back upon a line of +country cut up into rocky cliffs and precipices, +and covered by a dense pine forest. Here, necessarily +broken up into small parties, we were +assailed by the light troops of the enemy, led +on through the various passes by the peasantry, +whose animosity our own severity had excited. +It was, therefore, a continual hand-to-hand struggle, +in which, opposed as we were to over numbers, +well acquainted with every advantage of +the ground, our loss was terrific. It is said +that nigh seven thousand men fell—an immense +number, when no general action had occurred. +Whatever the actual loss, such were +the circumstances of our army, that Moreau +hastened to propose an armistice, on the condition +of the Rhine being the boundary between +the two armies, while Kehl was still to be held +by the French. +</p> + +<p> +The proposal was rejected by the Austrians, +who at once commenced preparations for a +siege of the fortress with forty thousand troops, +under Latour's command. The earlier months +of winter now passed in the labors of the siege, +and on the morning of New Year's Day the first +attack was made; the second line was carried +a few days after, and, after a glorious defense +by Desaix, the garrison capitulated, and evacuated +the fortress on the 9th of the month. Thus, +in the space of six short months, had we advanced +with a conquering army into the very +heart of the Empire, and now we were back +again within our own frontier; not one single +trophy of all our victories remaining, two-thirds +of our army dead or wounded, more than all, the +prestige of our superiority fatally injured, and +that of the enemy's valor and prowess as signally +elevated. +</p> + +<p> +The short annals of a successful soldier are +often comprised in the few words which state +how he was made lieutenant at such a date, +promoted to his company here, obtained his +majority there, succeeded to the command of +his regiment at such a place, and so on. Now +my exploits may even be more briefly written +as regards this campaign, for whether at Kehl +<pb n='638'/><anchor id='Pg638'/> +at Nauendorf, on the Etz, or at Huningen, I +ended as I begun—a simple soldier of the ranks. +A few slight wounds, a few still more insignificant +words of praise, were all that I brought +back with me; but if my trophies were small, +I had gained considerably both in habits of discipline +and obedience. I had learned to endure, +ably and without complaining, the inevitable +hardships of a campaign, and better still, to see, +that the irrepressible impulses of the soldier, +however prompted by zeal or heroism, may +oftener mar than promote the more mature +plans of his general. Scarcely had my feet once +more touched French ground, than I was seized +with the ague, then raging as an epidemic +among the troops, and sent forward with a large +detachment of sick to the Military Hospital of +Strasbourg. +</p> + +<p> +Here I bethought me of my patron, Colonel +Mahon, and determined to write to him. For +this purpose I addressed a question to the Adjutant-general's +office to ascertain the colonel's +address. The reply was a brief and stunning +one—he had been dismissed the service. No +personal calamity could have thrown me into +deeper affliction; nor had I even the sad consolation +of learning any of the circumstances of +this misfortune. His death, even though thereby +I should have lost my only friend, would +have been a lighter evil than this disgrace; and +coming as did the tidings when I was already +broken by sickness and defeat, more than ever +disgusted me with a soldier's life. It was then +with a feeling of total indifference that I heard +a rumor which at another moment would have +filled me with enthusiasm—the order for all +invalids sufficiently well to be removed, to be +drafted into regiments serving in Italy. The +fame of Bonaparte, who commanded that army, +had now surpassed that of all the other generals; +his victories paled the glory of their successes, +and it was already a mark of distinction to have +served under his command. +</p> + +<p> +The walls of the hospital were scrawled over +with the names of his victories; rude sketches +of Alpine passes, terrible ravines, or snow-clad +peaks met the eye every where; and the one +magical name, <q>Bonaparte,</q> written beneath, +seemed the key to all their meaning. With him +war seemed to assume all the charms of romance. +Each action was illustrated by feats of valor or +heroism, and a halo of glory seemed to shine +over all the achievements of his genius. +</p> + +<p> +It was a clear, bright morning of March, +when a light frost sharpened the air, and a fair, +blue sky overhead showed a cloudless elastic +atmosphere, that the <q>Invalides,</q> as we were +all called, were drawn up in the great square of +the hospital for inspection. Two superior officers +of the staff, attended by several surgeons +and an adjutant, sat at a table in front of us, on +which lay the regimental books and conduct-rolls +of the different corps. Such of the sick as +had received severe wounds, incapacitating them +for further service, were presented with some +slight reward—a few francs in money, a greatcoat, +or a pair of shoes, and obtained their freedom. +Others, whose injuries were less important, +received their promotion, or some slight +increase of pay, these favors being all measured +by the character the individual bore in his regiment, +and the opinion certified of him by his +commanding officer. When my turn came and +I stood forward, I felt a kind of shame to think +how little claim I could prefer either to honor +or advancement. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Maurice Tiernay, slightly wounded by a +sabre at Nauendorf—flesh-wound at Biberach—enterprising +and active, but presumptuous +and overbearing with his comrades,</q> read out +the adjutant, while he added a few words I +could not hear, but at which the superior laughed +heartily. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What says the doctor?</q> asked he, after a +pause. +</p> + +<p> +<q>This has been a bad case of ague, and I +doubt if the young fellow will ever be fit for +active service—certainly not at present.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is there a vacancy at Saumur?</q> asked the +general. <q>I see he has been employed in the +school at Nancy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, sir; for the third class there is one.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Let him have it, then. Tiernay, you are +appointed as aspirant of the third class at the +College of Saumur. Take care that the report +of your conduct be more creditable than what is +written here. Your opportunities will now be +considerable, and if well employed, may lead to +further honor and distinction; if neglected or +abused, your chances are forfeited forever.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I bowed and retired, as little satisfied with +the admonition as elated with the prospect +which converted me from a soldier into a +scholar, and, in the first verge of manhood, +threw me back once more into the condition of +a mere boy. +</p> + +<p> +Eighteen months of my life—not the least +happy, perhaps, since in the peaceful portion I +can trace so little to be sorry for—glided over +beside the banks of the beautiful Loire, the intervals +in the hours of study being spent either +in the riding-school, or the river, where, in +addition to swimming and diving, we were +instructed in pontooning and rafting, the modes +of transporting ammunition and artillery, and the +attacks of infantry by cavalry pickets. +</p> + +<p> +I also learned to speak and write English and +German with great ease and fluency, besides +acquiring some skill in military drawing and +engineering. +</p> + +<p> +It is true that the imprisonment chafed sorely +against us, as we read of the great achievements +of our armies in various parts of the world; of +the great battles of Cairo and the Pyramids, of +Acre and Mount Thabor; and of which a holiday +and a fête were to be our only share. +</p> + +<p> +The terrible storms which shook Europe from +end to end, only reached us in the bulletins of +new victories; and we panted for the time when +we, too, should be actors in the glorious exploits +of France. +</p> + +<p> +It is already known to the reader that of the +<pb n='639'/><anchor id='Pg639'/> +country from which my family came I myself +knew nothing. The very little I had ever learned +of it from my father was also a mere tradition; +still was I known among my comrades only as +<q>the Irishman,</q> and by that name was I recognized, +even in the record of the school, where I +was inscribed thus: <q>Maurice Tiernay, dit +l'Irlandais.</q> It was on this very simple and +seemingly-unimportant fact my whole fate in +life was to turn; and in this wise—But the explanation +deserves a chapter of its own, and +shall have it. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>(To be continued.)</hi> +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Enchanted Rock. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +About four miles west-northwest of Cape +Clear Island and lighthouse, on the south-west +coast of Ireland, a singularly-shaped rock, +called the Fastnett, rises abruptly and perpendicularly +a height of ninety feet above the sea +level in the Atlantic Ocean. It is about nine +miles from the mainland, and the country-people +say it is <emph>nine miles</emph> from <emph>every part</emph> of the +coast. +</p> + +<p> +The Fastnett for ages has been in the undisturbed +possession of the cormorant, sea-gull, +and various other tribes of sea-fowl, and was +also a noted place for large conger eels, bream, +and pollock; but from a superstitious dread of +the place, the fishermen seldom fished near it. +During foggy weather, and when the rock is +partially enveloped in mist, it has very much +the appearance of a large vessel under sail—hence +no doubt the origin of all the wonderful +tales and traditions respecting the Fastnett +being enchanted, and its celebrated feats. The +old people all along the sea-coast are under the +impression that the Fastnett hoists sails before +sunrise on the 1st of May in every year, and +takes a cruise toward the Dursey Islands, at the +north entrance of Bantry Bay, a distance of +some forty miles; and that, after dancing several +times round the rocks known to mariners +as the Bull, Cow, and Calf, it then shapes its +homeward course, drops anchor at the spot +from whence it sailed, and remains stationary +during the remainder of the year. +</p> + +<p> +The Fastnett, however, it appears, is not the +only enchanted spot in that locality; for at the +head of Schull Harbor, about nine miles north +of the rock, on the top of Mount Gabriel—about +1400 feet above the sea-level—is a celebrated +lake, which the people say is so deep, that the +longest line ever made would not reach its bottom. +It is also stoutly asserted that a gentleman +once dropped his walking-stick into the +lake, and that it was afterward found by a fisherman +near the Fastnett. On another occasion, +a female wishing to get some water from the +lake to perform a miraculous cure on one of her +friends, accidentally let fall the jug into the water, +and after several months, the identical jug—it +could not be mistaken, part of the lip being +broken off—was also picked up near the Fastnett. +For such reasons the people imagine +that there is some mysterious connection between +the rock and the lake, and that they +have a subterranean passage or means of communication. +Captain Wolfe, indeed, during his +survey of the coast in 1848, sounded the mysterious +pool, and found the bottom with a line +<emph>seven feet long</emph>; but the people shake their +heads at the idea, and say it was all <emph>freemasonry</emph> +on the part of the captain, and ask how he accounts +for the affair of the stick and jug? It +will be some time, I presume, before this puzzling +question can be solved to the satisfaction +of all parties; and the traditions of the stick +and jug, and many other extraordinary occurrences, +are likely to be handed down to succeeding +generations. The lake, or bog-hole, +must therefore be left alone in its glory; but, +alas! not so with the Fastnett. +</p> + +<p> +No more will it hoist sail for its Walpurgie +trip, and cruise to the Durseys, for it is now +<emph>firmly moored</emph>; and in the hands of man the +wonderful Fastnett is reduced to a simple isolated +rock in the Atlantic Ocean. During the awful +shipwrecks in the winters of 1846 and 1847, +but little assistance was derived from the Cape +Clear light, which is too elevated, and is often +totally obscured by fog, and this drew attention +to the Fastnett Rock as a more eligible site for +a pharos, being in the immediate route of all +outward and homeward-bound vessels: but the +great difficulty was to effect a landing, and +make the necessary surveys; its sides being +almost perpendicular, and continually lashed by +a heavy surge or surf. After many attempts. +Captain Wolfe did effect a landing; and having +made the necessary survey, and reported favorably +as to its advantages, it was determined by +the Ballast Board to erect on it a lighthouse +forthwith. Operations were commenced in the +summer of 1847, by sinking or excavating a +circular shaft about twelve feet deep in the solid +rock; holes were then drilled, in which were +fixed strong iron shafts for the framework of the +house; and then the masons began to rear the +edifice. The workmen found it pleasant enough +during the summer and autumn of 1847, and +lived in tents on the summit of the rock, and +looked over the mainland with the aid of a glass, +like so many of their predecessors—the cormorants. +</p> + +<p> +In the spring of 1848, however, when operations +were resumed, after a cessation of the +works for the winter, the scene changed. It +began to blow very hard from the northwest; +and the men secured their building, which was +now several feet above the rocks, as well as they +could, and covered it over with strong and heavy +beams of timber, leaving a small aperture for +ingress and egress, and then awaited in silence +the result. During the night the wind increased, +and the sea broke with such fury over the whole +rock, that the men imagined every succeeding +wave to be commissioned to sweep them into +the abyss. It only extinguished their fire, however, +and carried off most of their provisions, +<pb n='640'/><anchor id='Pg640'/> +together with sundry heavy pieces of cast-iron, +a large blacksmith's anvil, and the crane with +which the building materials were lifted on the +rock. The storm lasted upward of a week, +during which time no vessel or boat could approach; +and the crew of this island-ship remained +drenched with water, and nearly perished +with cold in a dark hole, with nothing to relieve +their hunger but water-soaked biscuit. But the +wind at length suddenly shifted, the sea moderated, +and they were enabled eventually to crawl +out of their hole more dead than alive. In a +few days a boat approached as near as possible, +and by the aid of ropes fastened round their +waists, they were drawn one by one from the +rock through the boiling surf. The men speedily +recovered, and have since raised the building +some twenty feet above the ground: the extreme +height is to be sixty feet. This is the last +adventure of the Enchanted Rock; but we trust +a brilliant history is before it, in which, instead +of expending its energies in idle cruises, it will +act the part of the beneficent preserver of life +and property. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Force Of Fear. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +At the close of the winter of 1825-6, about +dusk in the afternoon, just as the wealthy +dealers in the Palais Royal at Paris were about +lighting their lamps and putting up their shutters +(the practice of the major part of them at +nightfall), a well-known money-changer sat behind +his counter alone, surrounded by massive +heaps of silver and gold, the glittering and sterling +currency of all the kingdoms of Europe. +He had well-nigh closed his operations for the +day, and was enjoying in anticipation the prospect +of a good dinner. Between the easy-chair +upon which he reclined in perfect satisfaction, +and the door which opened into the north +side of the immense quadrangle of which the +splendid edifice above-mentioned is composed, +arose a stout wire partition, reaching nearly to +the ceiling, and resting upon the counter, which +traversed the whole length of the room. Thus +he was effectually cut off from all possibility of +unfriendly contact from any of his occasional +visitors; while a small sliding-board that ran +in and out under the wire partition served as +the medium of his peculiar commerce. Upon +this he received every coin, note, or draft presented +for change; and having first carefully +examined it, returned its value by the same conveyance, +in the coin of France, or indeed of any +country required. Behind him was a door communicating +with his domestic chambers, and in +the middle of the counter was another, the upper +part of which formed a portion of the wire +partition above described. +</p> + +<p> +The denizen of this little chamber had already +closed his outer shutters, and was just on +the point of locking up his doors, and retiring +to his repast, when two young men entered. +They were evidently Italians, from their costume +and peculiar dialect. Had it been earlier +in the day, when there would have been sufficient +light to have discerned their features and +expression, it is probable that our merchant +would have defeated their plans, for he was +well skilled in detecting the tokens of fraud +or design in the human countenance. But they +had chosen their time too appropriately. One +of them, advancing toward the counter, demanded +change in French coin for an English sovereign, +which he laid upon the sliding board, and +passed through the wire partition. The moneychanger +rose immediately, and having ascertained +that the coin was genuine, returned its proper +equivalent by the customary mode of transfer. +The Italians turned as if to leave the apartment, +when he who had received the money +suddenly dropped the silver, as though accidentally, +upon the floor. As it was now nearly +dark, it was scarcely to be expected that they +could find the whole of the pieces without the +assistance of a light. This the unconscious +merchant hastened to supply; and unlocking, +without suspicion, the door of the partition between +them, stooped with a candle over the +floor in search of the lost coin. In this position +the unfortunate man was immediately assailed +with repeated stabs from a poniard, and he at +length fell, after a few feeble and ineffectual +struggles, senseless, and apparently lifeless, at +the feet of his assassins. +</p> + +<p> +A considerable time elapsed ere, by the fortuitous +entrance of a stranger, he was discovered +in this dreadful situation; when it was found +that the assassins, having first helped themselves +to an almost incredible amount of money, had +fled, without any thing being left by which a +clew might have been obtained to their retreat. +</p> + +<p> +The unfortunate victim of their rapacity and +cruelty was, however, not dead. Strange as it +may appear, although he had received upward +of twenty wounds, several of which plainly +showed that the dagger had been driven to the +very hilt, he survived; and in a few months +after the event, was again to be seen in his +long-accustomed place at the changer's board. +In vain had the most diligent search been made +by the military police of Paris for the perpetrators +of this detestable deed. The villains +had eluded all inquiry and investigation, and +would in all probability have escaped undiscovered +with their booty but for a mutually-cherished +distrust of each other. Upon the first +and complete success of their plan, the question +arose, how to dispose of their enormous plunder, +amounting to more than a hundred thousand +pounds. Fearful of the researches of the police, +they dared not retain it at their lodgings. To +trust a third party with their secret was not to +be thought of. At length, after long and anxious +deliberation, they agreed to conceal the +money outside the barriers of Paris until they +should have concocted some safe plan for transporting +it to their own country. This they accordingly +did, burying the treasure under a tree +about a mile from the Barrière d'Enfer. But +<pb n='641'/><anchor id='Pg641'/> +they were still as far as ever from a mutual understanding. +When they separated, on any +pretense, each returned to the spot which contained +the stolen treasure, where of course he +was sure to find the other. Suspicion thus +formed and fed soon grew into dislike and hatred, +until at length, each loathing the sight of +the other, they agreed finally to divide the +booty, and then eternally to separate, each to +the pursuit of his own gratification. It then +became necessary to carry the whole of the +money home to their lodgings in Paris, in order +that it might, according to their notions, be +equitably divided. +</p> + +<p> +The reader must here be reminded that there +exists in Paris a law relative to wines and +spirituous liquors which allows them to be retailed +at a much lower price without the barriers +than that at which they are sold within +the walls of the city. This law has given rise, +among the lower orders of people, to frequent +attempts at smuggling liquors in bladders concealed +about their persons, often in their hats. +The penalty for the offense was so high, that it +was very rarely enforced, and practically it was +very seldom, indeed, that the actual loss incurred +by the offending party was any thing more than +the paltry venture, which he was generally permitted +to abandon, making the best use of his +heels to escape any further punishment. The +gensdarmes planted at the different barriers +generally made a prey of the potables which +they captured, and were consequently interested +in keeping a good look-out for offenders. It +was this vigilance that led to the discovery of +the robbers; for, not being able to devise any +better plan for the removal of the money than +that of secreting it about their persons, they +attempted thus to carry out their object. But +as one of them, heavily encumbered with the +golden spoils, was passing through the Barrière +d'Enfer, one of the soldier-police who was on +duty as sentinel, suspecting, from his appearance +and hesitating gait, that he carried smuggled +liquors in his hat, suddenly stepped behind +him and struck it from his head with his halberd. +What was his astonishment to behold, +instead of the expected bladder of wine or spirits, +several small bags of gold and rolls of English +bank-notes! The confusion and prevarication +of the wretch, who made vain and frantic attempts +to recover the property, betrayed his +guilt, and he was immediately taken into custody, +together with his companion, who, following +at a very short distance, was unhesitatingly +pointed out by his cowardly and bewildered +confederate as the owner of the money. No +time was lost in conveying intelligence of their +capture to their unfortunate victim, who immediately +identified the notes as his own property, +and at the first view of the assassins swore distinctly +to the persons of both—to the elder, as +having repeatedly stabbed him; and to the +younger, as his companion and coadjutor. +</p> + +<p> +The criminals were in due course of time +tried, fully convicted, and, as was to be expected, +sentenced to death by the guillotine; but, +owing to some technical informality in the proceedings, +the doom of the law could not be +carried into execution until the sentence of the +court had been confirmed upon appeal. This +delay afforded time and opportunity for some +meddling or interested individual—either moved +by the desire of making a cruel experiment, or +else by the hope of obtaining a reversal of the +capital sentence against the prisoners—to work +upon the feelings of the unfortunate money-changer. +A few days after the sentence of +death had been pronounced, the unhappy victim +received a letter from an unknown hand, mysteriously +worded, and setting forth, in expressions +that seemed to him fearfully prophetic, +that the thread of his own destiny was indissolubly +united with that of his condemned +assassins. It was evidently out of their power +to take away <emph>his</emph> life; and it was equally out of +his power to survive <emph>them</emph>, die by the sentence +of the law, or how or when they might; it +became clear—so argued this intermeddler—that +the same moment which saw the termination +of their lives, would inevitably be the last +of his own. To fortify his arguments, the +letter-writer referred to certain mystic symbols +in the heavens. Now though the poor man +could understand nothing of the trumpery diagrams +which were set forth as illustrating the +truth of the fatal warning thus conveyed to him, +and though his friends universally laughed at +the trick as a barefaced attempt of some anonymous +impostor to rob justice of her due, it +nevertheless made a deep impression upon his +mind. Ignorant of every thing but what related +immediately to his own money-getting +profession, he had a blind and undefined awe of +what he termed the supernatural sciences, and +he inwardly thanked the kind monitor who had +given him at least a chance of redeeming his +days. +</p> + +<p> +He immediately set about making application +to the judges, in order to get the decree of death +changed into a sentence to the galleys for life. +He was equally surprised and distressed to find +that they treated his petition with contempt, +and ridiculed his fears. So far from granting +his request, after repeated solicitations, they +commanded him in a peremptory manner to +appear no more before them. Driven almost to +despair, he resolved upon petitioning the king; +and after much expense and toil, he at length +succeeded in obtaining an audience of Charles X. +All was in vain. A crime so enormous, committed +with such cool deliberation, left no opening +for the plea of mercy: every effort he made +only served to strengthen the resolution of the +authorities to execute judgment. Finding all +his efforts in vain, he appeared to resign himself +despairingly to his fate. Deprived of all relish +even for gain, he took to his bed, and languished +in hopeless misery, and as the time for the execution +of the criminals approached, lapsed more +and more into terror and dismay. +</p> + +<p> +It was on a sultry afternoon, in the beginning +<pb n='642'/><anchor id='Pg642'/> +of June, 1826, that the writer of this brief +narrative—then a not too thoughtful lad, in +search of employment in Paris—hurried, together +with a party of sight-seeing English +workmen, to the Place de Grève to witness the +execution of the two assassins of the money-changer. +Under the rays of an almost insupportable +sun, an immense crowd had congregated +around the guillotine; and it was not +without considerable exertion, and a bribe of +some small amount, that standing-places were +at length obtained within a few paces of the +deathful instrument, upon the flat top of the low +wall which divides the ample area of the Place +de Grève from the river Seine. +</p> + +<p> +Precisely at four o'clock the sombre cavalcade +approached. Seated upon a bench in a +long cart, between two priests, sat the wretched +victims of retributive justice. The crucifix was +incessantly exhibited to their view, and presented +to their lips to be kissed, by their ghostly +attendants. After a few minutes of silent and +horrible preparation, the elder advanced upon +the platform of the guillotine. With livid aspect +and quivering lips, he gazed around in unutterable +agony upon the sea of human faces; then +lifting his haggard eyes to heaven, he demanded +pardon of God and the people for the violation +of the great prerogative of the former and the +social rights of the latter, and besought most +earnestly the mercy of the Judge into whose +presence he was about to enter. In less than +two minutes both he and his companion were +headless corpses, and in a quarter of an hour no +vestige, save a few remains of sawdust, was +left of the terrible drama that had been enacted. +Soon, however, a confused murmur pervaded +the crowd—a report that the victim of cruelty +and avarice had realized the dread presentiment +of his own mind, and justified the prediction +contained in the anonymous letter he had received. +On inquiry, this was found to be true. +As the signal rung out for execution, the unhappy +man, whom twenty-two stabs of the +dagger had failed to kill, expired in a paroxysm +of terror—adding one more to the many examples +already upon record of the fatal force of +fear upon an excited imagination. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Lady Alice Daventry; Or, The +Night Of Crime. +(From the Dublin University Magazine.)</head> + +<p> +Daventry Hall, near the little village +of the same name in Cumberland, is the +almost regal residence of the Cliffords; yet it +does not bear their name, nor, till within the +last quarter of a century, had it come into their +possession. The tragical event which consigned +it to the hands of a distant branch of the +Daventry family is now almost forgotten by its +occupants, but still lingers in the memory of +some of humbler rank, who, in days gone by, +were tenants under Sir John Daventry, the last +of a long line of baronets of that name. Few +men have entered life under happier auspices: +one of the oldest baronets in the kingdom, in +one sense, but just of age, in the other, possessed +of an unencumbered rent roll of £20,000 +per annum, he might probably have selected +his bride from the fairest of the English aristocracy; +but when he was twenty-three he +married the beautiful and poor daughter of +an officer residing in his vicinity. It was a +love-match on his side—one partly of love, +parly of ambition, on hers; their union was +not very long, neither was it very happy, and +when Lady Daventry died, leaving an infant +daughter to his care, at the expiration of +his year of mourning he chose as his second +wife the wealthy and high-born widow of the +county member. This was a <foreign rend='italic'>marriage de convenance</foreign>, +and might have perhaps proved a fortunate +one, as it secured to Sir John a wife +suited to uphold his dignity and the style of his +establishment, at the same time conferring on +the little Clara the care of a mother, and the +society of a playmate in the person of Charles +Mardyn, Lady Daventry's son by her first marriage. +But the marriage of convenience did +not end more felicitously than the marriage of +love—at the end of six months Sir John found +himself a second time a widower. His position +was now a somewhat unusual one—at twenty-seven +he had lost two wives, and was left the +sole guardian of two children, neither past the +age of infancy; Clara Daventry was but two +years old, Charles Mardyn three years her +senior. Of these circumstances Sir John made +what he conceived the best, provided attendants +and governesses for the children, consigned +them to the seclusion of the Hall, while he +repaired to London, procured a superb establishment, +was famed for the skill of his cooks, +and the goodness of his wines, and for the following +eighteen years was an <foreign rend='italic'>habitué</foreign> of the +clubs, and courted by the élite of London society; +and this, perhaps, being a perfectly blameless +course, and inflicting as little of any sort of +trouble or annoyance as possible, it must needs +excite our surprise if we do not find it producing +corresponding fruits. Eighteen years make +some changes every where. During these, +Clara Daventry had become a woman, and +Charles Mardyn, having passed through Eton +and Cambridge, had for the last two years +emulated his stepfather's style of London life. +Mr. Mardyn had left his fortune at the disposal +of his widow, whom he had foolishly loved, and +Lady Daventry, at her death, divided the Mardyn +estates between her husband and son—an +unfair distribution, and one Charles was not +disposed to pardon. He was that combination +so often seen—the union of talent to depravity; +of such talent as the union admits—talent which +is never first-rate, though to the many it appears +so; it is only unscrupulous, and consequently, +has at its command, engines which +virtue dares not use. Selfish and profligate, +he was that mixture of strong passions and indomitable +will, with a certain strength of intellect, +a winning manner, and noble appearance. +<pb n='643'/><anchor id='Pg643'/> +Clara possessed none of these external gifts. +Low and insignificant looking, her small, pale +features, narrow forehead, and cunning gray +eyes, harmonized with a disposition singularly +weak, paltry, and manoeuvring. Eighteen years +had altered Sir John Daventry's appearance less +than his mind; he had grown more corpulent, +and his features wore a look of sensual indulgence, +mingled with the air of authority of one +whose will, even in trifles, has never been disputed. +But in the indolent voluptuary of forty-five +little remained of the good-humored, careless +man of twenty-seven. Selfishness is an +ill-weed, that grows apace; Sir John Daventry, +handsome, gifted with <foreign rend='italic'>l'air distingué</foreign> and thoroughly +<foreign rend='italic'>répandu</foreign> in society, was a singularly +heartless and selfish sensualist. Such changes +eighteen years had wrought, when Clara was +surprised by a visit from her father. It was +more than two years since he had been at the +Hall, and the news he brought was little welcome +to her. He was about to marry a third +time—his destined bride was Lady Alice Mortimer, +the daughter of a poor though noble +house, and of whose beauty, though now past +the first bloom of youth, report had reached +even Clara's ears. From Mardyn, too, she +had heard of Lady Alice, and had fancied that +he was one of her many suitors. Her congratulations +on the event were coldly uttered; in +truth, Clara had long been accustomed to regard +herself as the heiress, and eventually, the +mistress of that princely estate where she had +passed her childhood; this was the one imaginative +dream in a cold, worldly mind. She did +not desire riches to gratify her vanity, or to +indulge in pleasures. Clara Daventry's temperament +was too passionless to covet it for +these purposes; but she had accustomed herself +to look on these possessions as her right, and to +picture the day when, through their far extent, +its tenants should own her rule. Besides, Mardyn +had awoke, if not a feeling of affection, in +Clara Daventry's breast, at least a wish to possess +him—a wish in which all the sensuous part +of her nature (and in that cold character there +was a good deal that was sensuous) joined. +She had perception to know her own want of +attractions, and to see that her only hope of +winning this gay and brilliant man of fashion +was the value her wealth might be of in repairing +a fortune his present mode of living was likely +to scatter—a hope which, should her father +marry, and have a male heir, would fall to the +ground. In due time the papers announced the +marriage of Sir John Daventry to the Lady +Alice Mortimer. They were to spend their +honeymoon at Daventry. The evening before +the marriage, Charles Mardyn arrived at the +Hall; it was some time since he had last been +there; it was a singular day to select for leaving +London, and Clara noticed a strange alteration +in his appearance, a negligence of dress, +and perturbation of manner unlike his ordinary +self-possession, that made her think that, perhaps, +he had really loved her destined step-mother. +Still, if so, it was strange his coming +to the Hall. The following evening brought +Sir John and Lady Alice Daventry to their +bridal home. The Hall had been newly decorated +for the occasion, and, in the general confusion +and interest, Clara found herself degraded +from the consideration she had before received. +Now the Hall was to receive a new mistress, +one graced with title, and the stamp of fashion. +These are offenses little minds can hardly be +thought to overlook; and as Clara Daventry +stood in the spacious hall to welcome her stepmother +to her home, and she who was hence-forward +to take the first place there, the Lady +Alice, in her rich traveling costume, stood before +her, the contrast was striking—the unattractive, +ugly girl, beside the brilliant London +beauty—the bitter feelings of envy and resentment, +that then passed through Clara's mind +cast their shade on her after destiny. During +the progress of dinner, Clara noticed the extreme +singularity of Mardyn's manner; noticed +also the sudden flush of crimson that dyed Lady +Alice's cheek on first beholding him, which was +followed by an increased and continued paleness. +There was at their meeting, however, no embarrassment +on his part—nothing but the well-bred +ease of the man of the world was observable +in his congratulations; but during dinner +Charles Mardyn's eyes were fixed on Lady +Alice with the quiet stealthiness of one calmly +seeking to penetrate through a mystery; and, +despite her efforts to appear unconcerned, it +was evident she felt distressed by his scrutiny. +The dinner was soon dispatched; Lady Alice +complained of fatigue, and Clara conducted her +to the boudoir designed for her private apartment. +As she was returning she met Mardyn. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Is Lady Alice in the boudoir?</q> he asked. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes,</q> she replied, <q>you do not want her?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Without answering, he passed on, and, opening +the door, Charles Mardyn stood before the +Lady Alice Daventry, his stepfather's wife. +</p> + +<p> +She was sitting on a low stool, and in a deep +reverie, her cheek resting on one of her fairy-like +hands. She was indeed a beautiful woman. +No longer very young—she was about thirty, +but still very lovely, and something almost infantine +in the arch innocence of expression that +lighted a countenance cast in the most delicate +mould—she looked, in every feature, the child +of rank and fashion; so delicate, so fragile, with +those <foreign rend='italic'>petites</foreign> features, and that soft pink flesh, +and pouting coral lips; and, in her very essence, +she had all those qualities that belong to a +spoiled child of fashion—wayward, violent in +temper, capricious, and volatile. She started +from her reverie: she had not expected to see +Mardyn, and betrayed much emotion at his +abrupt entrance; for, as though in an agony of +shame, she buried her face in her hands, and +turned away her head, yet her attitude was +very feminine and attractive, with the glossy +ringlets of rich brown hair falling in a shower +over the fair soft arms, and the whole so graceful +in its defenselessness, and the forbearance it +<pb n='644'/><anchor id='Pg644'/> +seemed to ask. Yet, whatever Mardyn's purpose +might be, it did not seem to turn him from +it; the sternness on his countenance increased +as he drew a chair, and, sitting down close +beside her, waited in silence, gazing at his +companion till she should uncover her face. +At length the hands were dropped, and, with +an effort at calmness, Lady Alice looked up, +but again averted her gaze as she met his. +</p> + +<p> +<q>When we last met, Lady Alice, it was +under different circumstances,</q> he said, sarcastically. +She bowed her head, but made no +answer. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I fear,</q> he continued, in the same tone, +<q>my congratulations may not have seemed +warm enough on the happy change in your +prospects; they were unfeigned, I assure you.</q> +Lady Alice colored. +</p> + +<p> +<q>These taunts are uncalled for, Mardyn,</q> +she replied, faintly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>No; that would be unfair, indeed,</q> he continued, +in the same bitter tone, <q>to Lady Alice +Daventry, who has always displayed such consideration +for all my feelings.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You never seemed to care,</q> she rejoined, +and the woman's pique betrayed itself in the +tone—<q>You never tried to prevent it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Prevent what?</q> +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated, and did not reply. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Fool!</q> he exclaimed, violently, <q>did you +think that if one word of mine could have +stopped your marriage, that word would have +been said? Listen, Lady Alice: I loved you +once, and the proof that I did is the hate I now +bear you. If I had not loved you, I should now +feel only contempt. For a time I believed that +you had for me the love you professed. You +chose differently; but though that is over, do +not think that all is. I have sworn to make you +feel some of the misery you caused me. Lady +Alice Daventry, do you doubt that that oath +shall be kept?</q> +</p> + +<p> +His violence had terrified her—she was deadly +pale, and seemed ready to faint; but a burst +of tears relieved her. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I do not deserve this,</q> she said; <q>I did love +you—I swore it to you, and you doubted me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Had I no reason?</q> he asked. +</p> + +<p> +<q>None that you did not cause yourself; your +unfounded jealousy, your determination to humble +me, drove me to the step I took.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The expression of his countenance somewhat +changed; he had averted his face so that she +could not read its meaning, and over it passed +no sign of relenting, but a look more wholly +triumphant than it had yet worn. When he +turned to Lady Alice it was changed to one of +mildness and sorrow. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You will drive me mad, Alice,</q> he uttered, +in a low, deep voice. <q>May heaven forgive me +if I have mistaken you; you told me you loved +me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I told you the truth,</q> she rejoined, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>But how soon that love changed,</q> he said, +in a half-doubting tone, as if willing to be convinced. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It never changed!</q> she replied, vehemently. +<q>You doubted—you were jealous, and left +me. I never ceased to love you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You do not love me now?</q> he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She was silent; but a low sob sounded +through the room, and Charles Mardyn was +again at her feet; and, while the marriage-vows +had scarce died from her lips, Lady Alice +Daventry was exchanging forgiveness with, and +listening to protestations of love from the son +of the man to whom, a few hours before, she +had sworn a wife's fidelity. +</p> + +<p> +It is a scene which needs some explanation; +best heard, however, from Mardyn's lips. A +step was heard along the passage, and Mardyn, +passing through a side-door, repaired to Clara's +apartment. He found her engaged on a book. +Laying it down, she bestowed on him a look of +inquiry as he entered. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I want to speak to you, Clara,</q> he said. +</p> + +<p> +Fixing her cold gray eyes on his face, she +awaited his questions. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Has not this sudden step of Sir John's surprised +you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It has,</q> she said, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Your prospects are not so sure as they +were?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, they are changed,</q> she said, in the +same quiet tone, and impassive countenance. +</p> + +<p> +<q>And you feel no great love to your new +stepmother?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I have only seen Lady Alice once,</q> she +replied, fidgeting on her seat. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, you will see her oftener now,</q> he +observed. <q>I hope she will make the Hall +pleasant to you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You have some motive in this conversation,</q> +said Clara, calmly. <q>You may trust +me, I do not love Lady Alice sufficiently to betray +you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +And now her voice had a tone of bitterness +surpassing Mardyn's; he looked steadily at +her; she met and returned his gaze, and that +interchange of looks seemed to satisfy both, +Mardyn at once began: +</p> + +<p> +<q>Neither of us have much cause to like Sir +John's new bride; she may strip you of a splendid +inheritance, and I have still more reason to +detest her. Shortly after my arrival in London, +I met Lady Alice Mortimer. I had heard +much of her beauty—it seemed to me to surpass +all I had heard. I loved her; she seemed +all playful simplicity and innocence; but I discovered +she had come to the age of calculation, +and that though many followed, and praised her +wit and beauty, I was almost the only one who +was serious in wishing to marry Lord Mortimer's +poor and somewhat <foreign rend='italic'>passée</foreign> daughter. She +loved me, I believe, as well as she could love +any one. That was not the love I gave, or +asked in return. In brief, I saw through her +sheer heartlessness, the first moment I saw her +waver between the wealth of an old sensualist, +and my love. I left her, but with an oath of +vengeance; in the pursuit of that revenge it will +be your interest to assist. Will you aid me?</q> +</p> + +<pb n='645'/><anchor id='Pg645'/> + +<p> +<q>How can I?</q> she asked. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is not difficult,</q> he replied. <q>Lady Alice +and I have met to-night; she prefers me still. +Let her gallant bridegroom only know this, and +we have not much to fear.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Clara Daventry paused, and, with clenched +hands, and knit brow, ruminated on his words—familiar +with the labyrinthine paths of the +plotter, she was not long silent. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I think I see what you mean,</q> she said. +<q>And I suppose you have provided means to +accomplish your scheme?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>They are provided for us. Where could +we find materials more made to our hands?—a +few insinuations, a conversation overheard, a +note conveyed opportunely—these are trifles, +but trifles are the levers of human action.</q> +</p> + +<p> +There was no more said then; each saw +partly through the insincerity and falsehood +of the other, yet each knew they agreed in a +common object. These were strange scenes +to await a bride, on the first eve in her new +home. +</p> + +<p> +Two or three months have passed since these +conversations. Sir John Daventry's manner has +changed to his bride: he is no longer the lover, +but the severe, exacting husband. It may be +that he is annoyed at all his long-confirmed +bachelor habits being broken in upon, and that, +in time, he will become used to the change, and +settle down contentedly in his new capacity; +but yet something more than this seems to be at +the bottom of his discontent. Since a confidential +conversation, held over their wine between +him and Charles Mardyn, his manner had been +unusually captious. Mardyn had, after submitting +some time, taken umbrage at a marked +insult, and set off for London. On Lady Alice, +in especial, her husband spent his fits of ill-humor. +With Clara he was more than ever +friendly; her position was now the most enviable +in that house. But she strove to alleviate her +stepmother's discomforts by every attention a +daughter could be supposed to show, and these +proofs of amiable feeling seemed to touch Sir +John, and as the alienation between him and his +wife increased, to cement an attachment between +Clara and her father. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Alice had lately imparted to her husband +a secret that might be supposed calculated +to fill him with joyous expectations, and raise +hopes of an heir to his vast possessions; but the +communication had been received in sullen +silence, and seemed almost to increase his +savage sternness—treatment which stung Lady +Alice to the quick; and when she retired to her +room, and wept long and bitterly over this unkind +reception of news she had hoped would +have restored his fondness, in those tears mingled +a feeling of hate and loathing to the author +of her grief. Long and dreary did the next +four months appear to the beautiful Lady of +Daventry, who, accustomed to the flattery and +adulation of the London world, could ill-endure +the seclusion and harsh treatment of the +Hall. +</p> + +<p> +At the end of that time, Charles Mardyn +again made his appearance; the welcome he +received from Sir John was hardly courteous. +Clara's manner, too, seemed constrained; but his +presence appeared to remove a weight from Lady +Alice's mind, and restore her a portion of her +former spirits. From the moment of Mardyn's +arrival, Sir John Daventry's manner changed to +his wife: he abandoned the use of sarcastic +language, and avoided all occasion of dispute +with her, but assumed an icy calmness of demeanor, +the more dangerous, because the more +clear-sighted. He now confided his doubts to +Clara; he had heard from Mardyn that his wife +had, before her marriage, professed an attachment +to him. In this, though jestingly alluded +to, there was much to work on a jealous and +exacting husband. The contrast in age, in +manner, and appearance, was too marked, not +to allow of the suspicion that his superiority in +wealth and position had turned the scale in his +favor—a suspicion which, cherished, had grown +to be the demon that allowed him no peace of +mind, and built up a fabric fraught with wretchedness +on this slight foundation. All this period +Lady Alice's demeanor to Mardyn was but too +well calculated to deepen these suspicions. +Now, too, had come the time to strike a decisive +blow. In this Clara was thought a fitting +instrument. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You are indeed unjust,</q> she said, with a +skillful assumption of earnestness; <q>Lady Alice +considers she should be a mother to Charles—they +meet often; it is that she may advise him, +She thinks he is extravagant—that he spends +too much time in London, and wishes to make +the country more agreeable to him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, Clary, I know she does; she would be +glad to keep the fellow always near her.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You mistake, sir, I assure you; I have been +with them when they were together; their +language has been affectionate, but as far as the +relationship authorizes.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Our opinions on that head differ, Clary; she +deceived me, and by —— she shall suffer for it. +She never told me she had known him; the +fellow insulted me by informing me when it was +too late. He did not wish to interfere—it was +over now—he told me with a sneer.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>He was wounded by her treatment; so +wounded, that, except as your wife, and to show +you respect, I know he would never have +spoken to her. But if your doubts can not be +hushed, they may be satisfactorily dispelled.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>How—tell me?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Lady Alice and Charles sit every morning +in the library; there are curtained recesses +there, in any of which you may conceal yourself, +and hear what passes.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Good—good; but if you hint or breathe to +them—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I merely point it out,</q> she interrupted, <q>as +a proof of my perfect belief in Charles's principle +and Lady Alice's affection for you. If a word +passes that militates against that belief, I will +renounce it.</q> +</p> + +<pb n='646'/><anchor id='Pg646'/> + +<p> +A sneer distorted Sir John's features. When +not blinded by passion, he saw clearly through +character and motives. He had by this discerned +Clara's dislike to Lady Alice, and now felt convinced +she suggested the scheme as she guessed +he would have his suspicions confirmed. He +saw thus far, but he did not see through a far +darker plot—he did not see that, in the deep +game they played against him, Charles and +Clara were confederates. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +That was a pleasant room; without, through +bayed windows, lay a wide and fertile prospect +of sunny landscape; within, it was handsomely +and luxuriously furnished. There were books +in gorgeous bindings; a range of marble pillars +swept its length; stands of flowers, vases of +agate and alabaster, were scattered on every +side; and after breakfast Mardyn and Lady +Alice made it their sitting-room. The morning +after the scheme suggested by Clara, they +were sitting in earnest converse, Lady Alice, +looking pale and care-worn, was weeping convulsively. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You tell me you must go,</q> she said; <q>and +were it a few months later, I would forsake all +and accompany you. But for the sake of my +unborn infant, you must leave me. At another +time return, and you may claim me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dear Alice,</q> he whispered softly, <q>dear, +dear Alice, why did you not know me sooner? +Why did you not love me more, and you would +now have been my own, my wife?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I was mad,</q> she replied, sadly; <q>but I have +paid the penalty of my sin against you. The +last year has been one of utter misery to me. +If there is a being on earth I loathe, it is the +man I must call my husband; my hatred to him +is alone inferior to my love for you. When I +think what I sacrificed for him,</q> she continued, +passionately, <q>the bliss of being your wife, resigned +to unite myself to a vapid sensualist, a man +who was a spendthrift of his passions in youth, and +yet asks to be loved, as if the woman most lost +to herself could feel love for him.</q> +</p> + +<p> +It was what he wished. Lady Alice had +spoken with all the extravagance of woman's +exaggeration; her companion smiled; she understood +its meaning. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You despise, me,</q> she said, <q>that I could +marry the man of whom I speak thus.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No,</q> he replied; <q>but perhaps you judge +Sir John harshly. We must own he has some +cause for jealousy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Despite his guarded accent, something smote +on Lady Alice's ear in that last sentence. She +turned deadly pale—was she deceived? But +in a moment the sense of her utter helplessness +rushed upon her. If he were false, nothing but +destruction lay before her—she desperately closed +her eyes on her danger. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You are too generous,</q> she replied. <q>If +I had known what I sacrificed—</q> +</p> + +<p> +Poor, wretched woman, what fear was in her +heart as she strove to utter words of confidence. +He saw her apprehensions, and drawing her +toward him, whispered loving words, and showered +burning kisses on her brow. She leant +her head on his breast, and her long hair fell +over his arm as she lay like a child in his embrace. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later the library was empty, +when the curtains that shrouded a recess near +where the lovers had sat were drawn back, and +Sir John Daventry emerged from his concealment. +His countenance betrayed little of what +passed within; every other feeling was swallowed +up in a thirst for revenge—a thirst that would +have risked life itself to accomplish its object—for +his suspicions had gone beyond the truth, +black, dreadful as was that truth to a husband's +ears, and he fancied that his unborn infant owed +its origin to Charles Mardyn; when, for that infant's +sake, where no other consideration could +have restrained her, Lady Alice had endured her +woman's wrong, and while confessing her love +for Mardyn, refused to listen to his solicitations, +or to fly with him; and the reference she had +made to this, and which he had overheard, appeared +to him but a base design to palm the +offspring of her love to Mardyn as the heir to the +wealth and name of Daventry. +</p> + +<p> +It wanted now but a month of Lady Alice's +confinement, and even Mardyn and Clara were +perplexed and indecisive as to the effect their +stratagem had upon Sir John. No word or sign +escaped him to betray what passed within—he +seemed stricken with sudden age, so stern and +hard had his countenance become, so fixed his +icy calmness. They knew not the volcanoes +that burned beneath their undisturbed surface. +A sudden fear fell upon them; they were but +wicked—they were not great in wickedness. +Much of what they had done appeared to them +clumsy and ill-contrived; yet their very fears +lest they might be seen through urged on another +attempt, contrived to give confirmation to Sir +John's suspicions, should his mind waver. So +great at this time was Mardyn's dread of detection +that he suddenly left the Hall. He know +Sir John's vengeance, if once roused, would be +desperate, and feared some attempts on his life. +In truth his position was a perilous one, and this +lull of fierce elements seemed to forerun some +terrible explosion—where the storm might spend +its fury was as yet hid in darkness. Happy +was it for the Lady Alice Daventry that she +knew none of these things, or hers would have +been a position of unparalleled wretchedness, as +over the plotters, the deceived, and the foredoomed +ones, glided on the rapid moments that +brought them nearer and nearer, till they stood +on the threshold of crime and death. +</p> + +<p> +And now, through the dark channels of fraud +and jealousy, we have come to the eve of that +strange and wild page in our story, which long +attached a tragic interest to the hails of Daventry, +and swept all but the name of that ancient +race into obscurity. +</p> + +<p> +On the fifteenth of December, Lady Alice +Daventry was confined of a son. All the usual +demonstrations of joy were forbidden by Sir +<pb n='647'/><anchor id='Pg647'/> +John, on the plea of Lady Alice's precarious +situation. Her health, weakened by the events +of the past year, had nearly proved unequal to +this trial of her married life, and the fifth morning +after her illness was the first on which the +physician held out confident hopes of her having +strength to carry her through. Up to that time +the survival of the infant had been a matter of +doubt; but on that morning, as though the one +slender thread had bound both to existence, +fear was laid aside, and calmness reigned through +the mansion of Daventry. On that morning, +too, arrived a letter directed to <q>The Lady +Alice Daventry.</q> A dark shade flitted over +Sir John's face as he read the direction; then +placing it among his other letters reserved for +private perusal, he left the room. +</p> + +<p> +The day wore on, each hour giving increasing +strength to the Lady Alice and her boy-heir. +During its progress, it was noticed, even by +the servants, that their master seemed unusually +discomposed, and that his countenance wore an +expression of ghastly paleness. As he sat alone, +after dinner, he drank glass after glass of wine, +but they brought no flush to his cheek—wrought +no change in his appearance; some mightier +spirit seemed to bid defiance to the effects of +drink. At a late hour he retired to his room. +The physician had previously paid his last visit +to the chamber of his patient; she was in a +calm sleep, and the last doubt as to her condition +faded from his mind, as, in a confident tone, he +reiterated his assurance to the nurse-tender +<q>that she might lie down and take some rest—that +nothing more was to be feared.</q> +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +The gloom of a December's night had closed, +dark and dreary, around the Hall, while, through +the darkness, the wind drove the heavy rain +against the easements; but, undisturbed by the +rain and winds, the Lady Alice and her infant +lay in a tranquil sleep; doubt and danger had +passed from them; the grave had seemed to yawn +toward the mother and child, but the clear color +on the transparent cheek, the soft and regular +breathing caught through the stillness of the +chamber, when the wind had died in the distance, +gave assurance to the nurse that all danger was +past; and, wearied with the watching of the +last four nights, she retired to a closet opening +from Lady Alice's apartment, and was soon +buried in the heavy slumber of exhaustion. +</p> + +<p> +That profound sleep was rudely broken +through by wild, loud cries, reaching over the +rage of the elements, which had now risen to a +storm. The terrified woman staggered to the +bedroom, to witness there a fearful change—sudden, +not to be accounted for. A night-lamp +shed its dim light through the apartment on a +scene of horror and mystery. All was silence +now—and the Lady Alice stood erect on the +floor, half shrouded in the heavy curtains of the +bed, and clasping her infant in her arms. By +this time the attendants, roused from sleep, had +reached the apartment, and assisted in taking +the child from its mother's stiff embrace; it had +uttered no cry, and when they brought it to the +light, the blaze fell on features swollen and lifeless—it +was dead in its helplessness—dead by +violence, for on its throat were the marks of +strong and sudden pressure; but how, by whom, +was a horrid mystery. They laid the mother +on the bed, and as they did so, a letter fell from +her grasp—a wild fit of delirium succeeded, followed +by a heavy swoon, from which the physician +failed in awaking her—before the night +had passed, Lady Alice Daventry had been summoned +to her rest. The sole clew to the events +of that night was the letter which had fallen +from Lady Alice; it the physician had picked +up and read, but positively refused to reveal its +contents, more than to hint that they betrayed +guilt that rendered his wife and child's removal +more a blessing than a misfortune to Sir John +Daventry. Yet somehow rumors were heard +that the letter was in Charles Mardyn's hand; +that it had fallen in Sir John's way, and revealed +to him a guilty attachment between Mardyn +and his wife; but how it came into her hands, +or how productive of such a catastrophe as the +destruction of her infant, her frenzy, and death, +remained unknown: but one further gleam of +light was ever thrown on that dark tragedy. +The nurse-tender, who had first come to her +mistress's assistance, declared that, as she entered +the room, she had heard steps in quick +retreat along the gallery leading from Lady +Alice's room, and a few surmised that, in the +dead of night, her husband had placed that letter +in her hand, and told her he knew her guilt. +This was but conjecture—a wild and improbable +one, perhaps. +</p> + +<p> +Charles Mardyn came not again to the Hall. +What he and Clara Daventry thought of what +had passed, was known only to themselves. A +year went on, and Clara and her father lived +alone—a year of terror to the former, for from +that terrible night her father had become subject +to bursts of savage passion that filled her with +alarm for her own safety: these, followed by +long fits of moody silence, rendered her life, for +a year, harassed and wretched; but then settling +into confirmed insanity, released her from his +violence. Sir John Daventry was removed to +an asylum, and Clara was mistress of the Hall. +Another year passed, and she became the wife +of Charles Mardyn. It was now the harvest +of their labors, and reaped as such harvests +must be. The pleasures and amusements of a +London life had grown distasteful to Mardyn—they +palled on his senses, and he sought change +in a residence at the Hall; but here greater +discontent awaited him. The force of conscience +allowed them not happiness in a place +peopled with such associations: they were +childless, they lived in solitary state, unvisited +by those of their own rank, who were deterred +from making overtures of intimacy by +the stories that were whispered affixing discredit +to his name; his pride and violent temper +were ill fitted to brook this neglect; in +disgust, they left Daventry, and went to Mardyn +<pb n='648'/><anchor id='Pg648'/> +Park, an old seat left him by his mother, on +the coast of Dorsetshire. It was wildly situated, +and had been long uninhabited; and in this +lonely residence the cup of Clara's wretchedness +was filled to overflowing. In Mardyn +there was now no trace left of the man who +had once captivated her fancy; prematurely +old, soured in temper, he had become brutal +and overbearing; for Clara he had cast off +every semblance of decency, and indifference +was now usurped by hate and violence; their +childless condition was made a constant, source +of bitter reproach from her husband. Time +brought no alleviation to this state of wretchedness, +but rather increased their evil passions +and mutual abhorrence. They had long and +bitterly disputed one day, after dinner, and each +reminded the other of their sins with a vehemence +of reproach that, from the lips of any +other, must have, overwhelmed the guilty pair +with shame and terror. Driven from the room +by Mardyn's unmanly violence and coarse epithets, +Clara reached the drawing-room, and +spent some hours struggling with the stings of +conscience aroused by Mardyn's taunts. They +had heard that morning of Sir John Daventry's +death, and the removal of the only being who +lived to suffer for their sin had seemed but to +add a deeper gloom to their miserable existence—the +time was past when any thing could bid +them hope. Her past career passed through +the guilty woman's mind, and filled her with +dread, and a fearful looking out for judgment. +She had not noticed how time had fled, till she +saw it was long past Mardyn's hour for retiring, +and that he had not come up stairs yet. +Another hour passed, and then a vague fear +seized upon her mind—she felt frightened at +being alone, and descended to the parlor. She +had brought no light with her, and when she +reached the door she paused; all in the house +seemed so still she trembled, and turning the +lock, entered the room. The candles had burnt +out, and the faint red glare of the fire alone +shone through the darkness; by the dim light +she saw that Mardyn was sitting, his arms folded +on the table, and his head reclined as if in +sleep. She touched him, he stirred not, and +her hand, slipping from his shoulder, fell upon +the table and was wet; she saw that a decanter +had been overturned, and fancied Mardyn had +been drinking, and fallen asleep; she hastened +from the room for a candle. As she seized a +light burning in the passage, she saw that the +hand she had extended was crimsoned with +blood. Almost delirious with terror, she regained +the room. The light from her hand fell +on the table—it was covered with a pool of +blood, that was falling slowly to the floor. +With a wild effort she raised her husband—his +head fell on her arm—the throat was severed +from ear to ear—the countenance set, and distorted +in death. +</p> + +<p> +In that moment the curse of an offended God +worked its final vengeance on guilt—Clara Mardyn +was a lunatic. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Mirabeau. An Anecdote Of His Private Life. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +The public life as well as the private character +of Mirabeau are universally known, +but the following anecdote has not, we believe, +been recorded in any of the biographies. The +particulars were included in the brief furnished +to M. de Galitzane, advocate-general in the +parliament of Provence, when he was retained +for the defense of Madame Mirabeau in her +husband's process against her. M. de Galitzane +afterward followed the Bourbons into exile, +and returned with them in 1814; and it is on +his authority that the story is given as fact. +</p> + +<p> +Mirabeau had just been released from the +dungeon of the castle of Vincennes near Paris. +He had been confined there for three years and +a half, by virtue of that most odious mandate, +a <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>lettre-de-cachet</foreign>. His imprisonment had been +of a most painful nature; and it was prolonged +at the instance of his father, the Marquis de +Mirabeau. On his being reconciled to his +father, the confinement terminated, in the year +1780, when Mirabeau was thirty-one years of +age. +</p> + +<p> +One of his father's conditions was, that Mirabeau +should reside for some time at a distance +from Paris; and it was settled that he should go +on a visit to his brother-in-law, Count du Saillant, +whose estate was situated a few leagues +from the city of Limoges, the capital of the +Limousin. Accordingly, the count went to +Vincennes to receive Mirabeau on the day of +his liberation, and they pursued their journey at +once with all speed. +</p> + +<p> +The arrival of Mirabeau at the ancient manorial +château created a great sensation in that +remote part of France. The country gentlemen +residing in the neighborhood had often heard +him spoken of as a remarkable man, not only +on account of his brilliant talents, but also for +his violent passions; and they hastened to the +château to contemplate a being who had excited +their curiosity to an extraordinary pitch. The +greater portion of these country squires were +mere sportsmen, whose knowledge did not extend +much beyond the names and qualities of +their dogs and horses, and in whose houses it +would have been almost in vain to seek for any +other book than the local almanac, containing +the list of the fairs and markets, to which they +repaired with the utmost punctuality, to loiter +away their time, talk about their rural affairs, +dine abundantly, and wash down their food with +strong Auvergne wine. +</p> + +<p> +Count du Saillant was quite of a different +stamp from his neighbors. He had seen the +world, he commanded a regiment, and at that +period his château was perhaps the most civilized +country residence in the Limousin. People +came from a considerable distance to visit its +hospitable owner; and among the guests there +was a curious mixture of provincial oddities, +clad in their quaint costumes. At that epoch, +<pb n='649'/><anchor id='Pg649'/> +indeed, the young Lismousin noblemen, when +they joined their regiments, to don their sword +and epaulets for the first time, were very +slightly to be distinguished, either by their +manners or appearance, from their rustic retainers. +</p> + +<p> +It will easily be imagined, then, that Mirabeau, +who was gifted with brilliant natural +qualities, cultivated and polished by education—a +man, moreover, who had seen much of the +world, and had been engaged in several strange +and perilous adventures—occupied the most conspicuous +post in this society, many of the component +members whereof seemed to have barely +reached the first degrees in the scale of civilization. +His vigorous frame; his enormous head, +augmented in bulk by a lofty frizzled <foreign rend='italic'>coiffure</foreign>; +his huge face, indented with scars, and furrowed +with seams, from the effect of small-pox injudiciously +treated in his childhood; his piercing +eyes, the reflection of the tumultuous passions +at war within him; his mouth, whose expression +indicated in turn irony, disdain, indignation, and +benevolence; his dress, always carefully attended +to, but in an exaggerated style, giving him +somewhat the air of a traveling charlatan decked +out with embroidery, large frill, and ruffles; in +short, this extraordinary-looking individual astonished +the country-folks even before he opened +his mouth. But when his sonorous voice was +heard, and his imagination, heated by some interesting +subject of conversation, imparted a +high degree of energy to his eloquence, some +of the worthy rustic hearers felt as though they +were in the presence of a saint, others in that +of a devil; and according to their several impressions, +they were tempted either to fall down +at his feet, or to exorcise him by making the +sign of the cross, and uttering a prayer. +</p> + +<p> +Seated in a large antique arm-chair, with his +feet stretched out on the floor, Mirabeau often +contemplated, with a smile playing on his lips, +those men who seemed to belong to the primitive +ages; so simple, frank, and at the same +time clownish, were they in their manners. He +listened to their conversations, which generally +turned upon the chase, the exploits of their dogs, +or the excellence of their horses, of whose breed +and qualifications they were very proud. Mirabeau +entered freely into their notions; took an +interest in the success of their sporting projects; +talked, too, about crops; chestnuts, of which +large quantities are produced in the Limousin; +live and dead stock; ameliorations in husbandry; +and so forth; and he quite won the +hearts of the company by his familiarity with +the topics in which they felt the most interest, +and by his good nature. +</p> + +<p> +This monotonous life was, however, frequently +wearisome to Mirabeau; and in order to vary +it, and for the sake of exercise, after being occupied +for several hours in writing, he was in +the habit of taking a fowling-piece, according +to the custom of the country, and putting a +book into his game-bag, he would frequently +make long excursions on foot in every direction. +He admired the noble forests of chestnut-trees +which abound in the Limousin; the vast meadows, +where numerous herds of cattle of a superior +breed are reared; and the running streams +by which that picturesque country is intersected. +He generally returned to the château long +after sunset, saying that night scenery was +peculiarly attractive to him. +</p> + +<p> +It was during and after supper that those +conversations took place for which Mirabeau +supplied the principal and the most interesting +materials. He possessed the knack of provoking +objections to what he might advance, in +order to combat them, as he did with great +force of logic and in energetic language; and +thus he gave himself lessons in argument, caring +little about his auditory, his sole aim being +to exercise his mental ingenuity and to cultivate +eloquence. Above all, he was fond of discussing +religious matters with the curé of the +parish. Without displaying much latitudinarianism, +he disputed several points of doctrine and +certain pretensions of the church so acutely, +that the pastor could say but little in reply. +This astonished the Limousin gentry, who, up +to that time, had listened to nothing but the +drowsy discourses of their curés, or the sermons +of some obscure mendicant friars, and who +placed implicit faith in the dogmas of the +church. The faith of a few was shaken, but the +greater number of his hearers were very much +tempted to look upon the visitor as an emissary +of Satan sent to the château to destroy them. +The curé, however, did not despair of eventually +converting Mirabeau. +</p> + +<p> +At this period several robberies had taken +place at no great distance from the château: +four or five farmers had been stopped shortly +after nightfall on their return from the market-towns, +and robbed of their purses. Not one of +these persons had offered any resistance, for +each preferred to make a sacrifice rather than +run the risk of a struggle in a country full of +ravines, and covered with a rank vegetation +very favorable to the exploits of brigands, who +might be lying in wait to massacre any individual +who might resist the one detached from the +band to demand the traveler's money or his life. +These outrages ceased for a short time, but they +soon recommenced, and the robbers remained +undiscovered. +</p> + +<p> +One evening, about an hour after sunset, a +guest arrived at the château. He was one of +Count du Saillant's most intimate friends, and +was on his way home from a neighboring fair. +This gentleman appeared to be very thoughtful, +and spoke but little, which surprised every +body, inasmuch as he was usually a merry companion. +His gasconades had frequently roused +Mirabeau from his reveries, and of this he was +not a little proud. He had not the reputation +of being particularly courageous, however, +though he often told glowing tales about his +own exploits; and it must be admitted that he +took the roars of laughter with which they were +usually received very good-humoredly. +</p> + +<pb n='650'/><anchor id='Pg650'/> + +<p> +Count du Saillant being much surprised at +this sudden change in his friend's manner, took +him aside after supper, and begged that he +would accompany him to another room. When +they were there alone, he tried in vain for a +long time to obtain a satisfactory answer to his +anxious inquiries as to the cause of his friend's +unwonted melancholy and taciturnity. At +length the visitor said—<q>Nay, nay; you would +never believe it. You would declare that I was +telling you one of my fables, as you are pleased +to call them; and perhaps <emph>this</emph> time we might +fall out.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What do you mean?</q> cried Count de Saillant; +<q>this seems to be a serious affair. Am +<emph>I</emph>, then, connected with your presentiments?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not exactly <emph>you</emph>; but—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What does this <emph>but</emph> mean? Has it any +thing to do with my wife? Explain yourself.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not the least in the world. Madame du +Saillant is in nowise concerned in the matter: +but—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><emph>But!</emph>—<emph>but!</emph> you tire me out with your +<emph>buts</emph>. Are you resolved still to worry me with +your mysteries? Tell me at once what has +occurred—what has happened to you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, nothing—nothing at all. No doubt I +was frightened.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Frightened!—and at what? By whom? +For God's sake, my dear friend, do not prolong +this painful state of uncertainty.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Do you really wish me to speak out?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not only so, but I demand this of you as an +act of friendship.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, I was stopped to-night at about the +distance of half a league from your château.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Stopped! In what way? By whom?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, stopped as people are stopped by +footpads. A gun was leveled at me; I was +peremptorily ordered to deliver up my purse; I +threw it down on the ground, and galloped off. +Do not ask me any more questions.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why not? I wish to know all. Should +you know the robber again? Did you notice +his figure and general appearance?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It being dark, I could not exactly discover: +I can not positively say. However, it seems to +me—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><emph>What</emph> seems to you? What or whom do +you think you saw?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I never can tell <emph>you</emph>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Speak—speak; you can not surely wish to +screen a malefactor from justice?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No; but if the said malefactor should be—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If he were my own son, I should insist upon +your telling me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, then, it appeared to me that the robber +was your brother-in-law, <hi rend='smallcaps'>mirabeau</hi>! But +I might be mistaken; and, as I said before, +fear—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Impossible: no, it can not be. Mirabeau a +footpad! No, no. You <emph>are</emph> mistaken, my good +friend.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Certainly—certainly.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Let us not speak any more of this,</q> said +Count du Saillant. <q>We will return to the +drawing-room, and I hope you will be as gay +as usual; if not, I shall set you down as a mad-man. +I will so manage that our absence shall +not be thought any thing of.</q> And the gentlemen +re-entered the drawing room, one a short +time before the other. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor succeeded in resuming his accustomed +manner; but the count fell into a gloomy +reverie, in spite of all his efforts. He could +not banish from his mind the extraordinary +story he had heard: it haunted him; and at +last, worn out with the most painful conjectures, +he again took his friend aside, questioned him +afresh, and the result was, that a plan was +agreed upon for solving the mystery. It was +arranged that M. De —— should in the course +of the evening mention casually, as it were, +that he was engaged on a certain day to meet +a party at a friend's house to dinner, and that +he purposed coming afterward to take a bed +at the château, where he hoped to arrive at +about nine in the evening. The announcement +was accordingly made in the course of conversation, +when all the guests were present—good +care being taken that it should be heard by +Mirabeau, who at the time was playing a game +of chess with the curé. +</p> + +<p> +A week passed away, in the course of which +a farmer was stopped and robbed of his purse; +and at length the critical night arrived. +</p> + +<p> +Count du Saillant was upon the rack the +whole evening; and his anxiety became almost +unbearable when the hour for his friend's promised +arrival had passed without his having made +his appearance. Neither had Mirabeau returned +from his nocturnal promenade. Presently +a storm of lightning, thunder, and heavy rain +came on; in the midst of it the bell at the gate +of the court-yard rang loudly. The count rushed +out of the room into the court-yard, heedless +of the contending elements; and before the +groom could arrive to take his friend's horse, +the anxious host was at his side. His guest +was in the act of dismounting. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well,</q> said M. De ——, <q>I have been +stopped. It is really he. I recognized him +perfectly.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Not a word more was spoken then; but as +soon as the groom had led the horse to the +stables, M. De —— rapidly told the count that, +during the storm, and as he was riding along, +a man, who was half-concealed behind a very +large tree, ordered him to throw down his purse. +At that moment a flash of lightning enabled +him to discover a portion of the robber's person, +and M. De —— rode at him; but the robber +retreated a few paces, and then leveling his +gun at the horseman, cried with a powerful +voice, which it was impossible to mistake, <q>Pass +on, or you are a dead man!</q> Another flash of +lightning showed the whole of the robber's figure: +it was Mirabeau, whose voice had already +betrayed him! The wayfarer, having no inclination +to be shot, put spurs to his horse, and +soon reached the château. +</p> + +<p> +The count enjoined strict silence, and begged +<pb n='651'/><anchor id='Pg651'/> +of his friend to avoid displaying any change in +his usual demeanor when in company with the +other guests; he then ordered his valet to come +again to him as soon as Mirabeau should return. +Half an hour afterward Mirabeau arrived. +He was wet to the skin, and hastened to his +own room; he told the servant to inform the +count that he could not join the company at the +evening meal, and begged that his supper might +be brought to his room; and he went to bed as +soon as he had supped. +</p> + +<p> +All went on as usual with the party assembled +below, excepting that the gentleman who had +had so unpleasant an adventure on the road appeared +more gay than usual. +</p> + +<p> +When his guests had all departed, the master +of the house repaired alone to his brother-in-law's +apartment. He found him fast asleep, +and was obliged to shake him rather violently +before he could rouse him. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What's the matter? Who's there? What +do you want with me?</q> cried Mirabeau, staring +at his brother-in-law, whose eyes were flashing +with rage and disgust. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What do I want? I want, to tell you that +you are a wretch!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A fine compliment, truly!</q> replied Mirabeau, +with the greatest coolness. <q>It was +scarcely worth while to awaken me only to +abuse me: go away, and let me sleep.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><emph>Can</emph> you sleep after having committed so +bad an action? Tell me—where did you pass +the evening? Why did you not join us at the +supper-table?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I was wet through—tired—harassed: I +had been overtaken by the storm. Are you +satisfied now? Go, and let me get some sleep: +do you want to keep me chattering all night?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I insist upon an explanation of your strange +conduct. You stopped Monsieur De —— on +his way hither this evening: this is the second +time you have attacked that gentleman, for he +recognized you as the same man who robbed +him a week ago. You have turned highwayman, +then!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Would it not have been all in good time to +tell me this to-morrow morning?</q> said Mirabeau, +with inimitable <foreign rend='italic'>sang-froid</foreign>. <q>Supposing +that I <emph>did</emph> stop your friend, what of that?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That you are a wretch!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And that you are a fool, my dear Du Saillant. +Do you imagine that it was for the sake +of his money that I stopped this poor country +squire? I wished to put him to the proof, and +to put myself to the proof. I wished to ascertain +what degree of resolution was necessary in +order to place one's self in formal opposition to +the most sacred laws of society: the trial was a +dangerous one; but I have made it several times. +I am satisfied with myself—but your friend is a +coward.</q> He then felt in the pocket of his +waistcoat, which lay on a chair by his bedside, +and drawing a key from it, said, <q>Take this +key, open my <foreign rend='italic'>scrutoire</foreign>, and bring me the second +drawer on the left hand.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The count, astounded at so much coolness, +and carried away by an irresistible impulse—for +Mirabeau spoke with the greatest firmness—unlocked +the cabinet, and brought the drawer +to Mirabeau. It contained nine purses; some +made of leather, others of silk; each purse was +encircled by a label on which was written a +date—it was that of the day on which the owner +had been stopped and robbed; the sum contained +in the purse was also written down. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You see,</q> said Mirabeau, <q>that I did not +wish to reap any pecuniary benefit from my +proceedings. A timid person, my dear friend, +could never become a highwayman; a soldier +who fights in the ranks does not require half so +much courage as a footpad. <emph>You</emph> are not the +kind of man to understand me, therefore I will +not attempt to make myself more intelligible. +You would talk to me about honor—about religion; +but these have never stood in the way +of a well-considered and a firm resolve. Tell +me, Du Saillant, when you lead your regiment +into the heat of battle, to conquer a province to +which he whom you call your master has no +right whatever, do you consider that you are +performing a better action than mine, in stopping +your friend on the king's highway, and demanding +his purse?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I obey without reasoning,</q> replied the +count. +</p> + +<p> +<q>And I reason without obeying, when obedience +appears to me to be contrary to reason,</q> +rejoined Mirabeau. <q>I study all kinds of social +positions, in order to appreciate them justly. I +do not neglect even those positions or cases +which are in decided opposition to the established +order of things; for established order is +merely conventional, and may be changed when +it is generally admitted to be faulty. Such a +study is a dangerous, but it is a necessary one +for him who wishes to gain a perfect knowledge +of men and things. You are living within the +boundary of the law, whether it be for good or +evil. I study the law, and I endeavor to acquire +strength enough to combat it if it be bad when +the proper time shall arrive.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You wish for a convulsion then?</q> cried the +count. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I neither wish to bring it about nor do I +desire to witness it; but should it come to +pass through the force of public opinion, I would +second it to the full extent of my power. In +such a case you will hear me spoken of. Adieu. +I shall depart to-morrow; but pray leave me +now, and let me have a little sleep.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Count du Saillant left the room without saying +another word. Very early on the following +morning Mirabeau was on his way to Paris. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Terrestrial Magnetism. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +It is proposed in the following article to give +the reader some idea of one of the greatest and +most extensive scientific works going on at the +present time in this country—namely, the examination +of the phenomenon of the earth's +<pb n='652'/><anchor id='Pg652'/> +magnetism; but before doing so, it will be +necessary to make a few prefatory observations +respecting magnetism generally. +</p> + +<p> +The attractive power of the natural magnet +or loadstone over fragments of iron seems to +have been known from the remotest antiquity. +It is distinctly referred to by ancient writers, +and Pliny mentions a chain of iron rings suspended +from one another, the first being upheld +by a loadstone. It is singular that although +the common properties of the loadstone were +known, and even studied, during the dark ages, +its directive power, or that of a needle touched +or rubbed by it, seems to be the discovery of +modern times, notwithstanding the claims of the +Chinese and Arabians to an early acquaintance +with this peculiarity. +</p> + +<p> +There is no doubt that the mariner's compass +was known in the twelfth century, for several +authors of that period make special allusion to +it; but centuries elapsed before its variation +from pointing precisely to the poles became +noticed. If a magnet be suspended by a thread, +in such a manner as to enable it to move freely, +it will, when all other magnetic bodies are entirely +removed from it, settle in a fixed position, +which, in this country, is about 25° to the west +of north; this deviation of the needle from the +north is called its variation. Again, if, in place +of suspending a magnetized needle, making it +move horizontally on a pivot, we balance it upon +a horizontal axis, as the beam of a pair of scales, +we shall find that it no longer remains horizontal, +but that one end will incline downward, or, +as it is called, <emph>dip</emph>, and this dip or inclination +from a horizontal line is about 70° in this country. +</p> + +<p> +Thus we are presented with two distinct +magnetical phenomena: 1. The variation or +declination of the needle; 2. Its dip or inclination; +and to these we may add the intensity or +force which draws the needle from pointing to +the north, and which varies in different latitudes. +These phenomena constitute what has been called +terrestrial magnetism. +</p> + +<p> +Recent writers, and among them the great +philosopher Humboldt, have shown that in all +probability the declination or variation of the +magnet was known as early as the twelfth century; +but this important discovery has been +generally ascribed to Columbus. His son Ferdinand +states that on the 14th September 1492, +his father, when about 200 leagues from the +island of Ferro, noticed for the first time the +variation of the needle. <q>A phenomenon,</q> says +Washington Irving, <q>that had never before been +remarked.</q> <q>He perceived,</q> adds this author, +<q>about nightfall that the needle, instead of pointing +to the north star, varied half a point, or between +five and six degrees, to the northwest, +and still more on the following morning. Struck +with this circumstance, he observed it attentively +for three days, and found that the variation increased +as he advanced. He at first made no +mention of this phenomenon, knowing how ready +his people were to take alarm; but it soon attracted +the attention of the pilots, and filled +them with consternation. It seemed as if the +laws of nature were changing as they advanced, +and that they were entering another world, subject +to unknown influences. They apprehended +that the compass was about to lose its mysterious +virtues; and without this guide, what +was to become of them in a vast and trackless +ocean? Columbus tasked his science and ingenuity +for reasons with which to allay their +terrors. He told them that the direction of the +needle was not the polar star, but to some fixed +and invisible point: the variation was not caused +by any failing in the compass, but because this +point, like the heavenly bodies, had its changes +and revolutions, and every day described a circle +round the pole. The high opinion that the pilots +entertained of Columbus as a profound astronomer +gave weight to his theory, and their alarm +subsided.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Thus, although it is possible that the variation +of the needle had been noticed before the +time of Columbus, it is evident that he had discovered +the amount of the variation, and that it +varied in different latitudes. The great philosopher +Humboldt observes on this point, that +<q>Columbus has not only the incontestible merit +of having first discovered a line without magnetic +variation, but also of having, by his considerations +on the progressive increase of westerly +declination in receding from that line, given the +first impulse to the study of terrestrial magnetism +in Europe.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With respect to the dip or inclination of the +magnetic needle, which must be regarded as +the other element of magnetic direction, there +is little doubt that it was known long before the +period usually assigned as the date of its discovery—namely, +in 1576; for it is difficult to +conceive how the variation of the needle should +be observed and noted, and not its deviation +from a horizontal line. In the above year a +person of the name of Robert Norman, who +styled himself <q>hydrographer,</q> published a +book containing an account of this phenomenon. +The title of this work is sufficiently curious to +be quoted. It runs: <q>The New Attractive; +containing a short Discourse of the Magnes or +Loadstone, and amongst others his Virtues, of a +neue discovered Secret and Subtill Propertie, +concerning the Declination of the Needle touched +therewith under the Plaine of the Horizon, now +first found out by Robert Norman, Hydrographer.</q> +In the third chapter we are told <q>by what +meanes the rare and straunge declyning of the +needle from the plaine of the horison was first +found.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>Having made many and diuers compasses, +and using always to finish and end them before +I touched the needle, I found continually that +after I had touched the yrons with the stone, +that presently the north point thereof would +bend or declyne downwards under the horison +in some quantity, insomuch that I was constrained +to putt some small piece of waxe in the +south parts thereof, to counterpoise this declyning, +<pb n='653'/><anchor id='Pg653'/> +and to make it equal againe. Which +effecte hauing many times passed my hands +without any greate regarde thereunto, as ignorant +of any such properties in the stone, and not +before hauing heard or read of any such matter, +it chanced at length that there came to my +handes an instrument to be made with a needle +of sixe inches long, which needle, after I had +polished, cutt off at full length, and made it to +stand leuel upon the pinn, so that nothing rested +but only the touching of it with the stone. +When I hadde touched the same, presently the +north part thereof declyned down in such sort, +that being constrained to cut away some of that +part to make it equall againe in the end, I cut +it too short, and so spoiled the needle wherein I +had taken so much paines.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hereby being straken into some cholar, I +applyed myself to seek farther into this effecte; +and making certain learned and expert men, my +friends, acquainted in this matter, they advised +me to frame some instrument to make some +exact triall how much the needle touched with +the stone would declyne, or what greatest angle +it would make with the plaine of the horison.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The author then proceeds to give a number +of experiments which he made with his instrument, +and which may be regarded as the dipping-needle +in its first and rudest form. By it +he found the inclination or dip to be 71° 50'. +</p> + +<p> +It is remarkable, that until within the last +seventy years, it appears to have been the received +opinion that the intensity of terrestrial +magnetism was the same at all parts of the +earth's surface; or, in other words, that in all +countries the needle was similarly affected. +And yet few things are more inconstant; for, +not only is the magnetic force widely different in +various parts of our globe, but the magnetic condition +itself is one of swift and ceaseless change. +</p> + +<p> +The first person who attempted to collect and +generalize observations on the variation of the +needle, was Robert Halley, who constructed a +chart, showing a series of lines drawn through +the points or places where the needle exhibited +the same variation. This chart was published +in 1700, and was preceded by some exceedingly +curious papers, communicated to the Royal +Society, in which he expresses his belief that +he has put it past doubt that the globe of the +earth is one great magnet, having four magnetic +poles or points of attraction, two near each +pole of the equator; and that in those parts of +the world which lie adjacent to any one of those +magnetical poles, the needle is chiefly governed +thereby, the nearest pole being always predominant +over the more remote. +</p> + +<p> +The great importance of collecting as much +information as possible respecting the laws of +magnetism, with a view to the proper understanding +of its effects, was fully understood by +Halley, as the following passage, taken from +one of his papers, read before the Royal Society +in 1692, singularly attests: <q>The nice determination +of the variation, and several other particulars +in the magnetic system, is reserved for +a remote posterity. All that we can hope to +do is, to leave behind us observations that may +be confided in, and to propose hypotheses which +after-ages may examine, amend, or refute; only +here I must take leave to recommend to all +masters of ships, and all others, lovers of natural +truths, that they use their utmost diligence +to make, or procure to be made, observations of +these variations in all parts of the world, as well +in the north as south latitude, after the laudable +custom of our East India commanders; and +that they please to communicate them to the +Royal Society, in order to leave as complete a +history as may be to those that are hereafter to +compare all together, and to complete and perfect +this abstruse theory.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Halley's theory, or rather hypothesis, which +regarded our globe as a great piece of clockwork, +by which the poles of an internal magnet +were carried round in a cycle of determinate +but unknown period, was so far confirmed, that +his variation chart had been hardly forty years +completed, when, by the effect of these changes, +it had already become obsolete; and to satisfy +the requirements of navigation, it became necessary +to reconstruct it. This was performed by +the aid of various observations furnished by the +Commissioners of the Navy, and the East India, +Africa, and Hudson's Bay Companies. But the +chart was far from satisfactory, and, in consequence +of the discordant nature of the observations, +no dependence could be placed on it. +</p> + +<p> +No further steps were taken to ascertain the +magnetism of the earth until the close of the +last century, when the French government +undertook the first comprehensive experimental +inquiry on the subject. When the exploring +expedition of La Pérouse was organized, the +French Academy of Sciences prepared instructions +for the expedition, containing a recommendation +that observations with the dipping-needle +should be made at stations widely remote, +as a test of the equality or difference of the +magnetic intensity; suggesting also, with a +sagacity anticipating the result, that such observations +should particularly be made at those +parts of the earth where the dip was greatest, +and where it was least. The experiments, +whatever their results may have been, which, +in compliance with this recommendation, were +made in the expedition of La Pérouse, perished +in its general catastrophe, neither ships nor +navigators having ever been heard of; but the +instructions survived. +</p> + +<p> +Our knowledge of the laws of magnetism was +not increased until 1811, when, on the occasion +of a prize proposed by the Royal Danish Academy, +M. Hansteen, whose attention had for many +years been turned to magnetic phenomena, undertook +its re-examination. With indefatigable +labor M. Hansteen traced back the history of +the subject, and filled up the interval from Halley's +time, and even from an earlier epoch +(1600). The results appeared in his very remarkable +and celebrated work, published in +1819, entitled, <q>Upon the Magnetism of the +<pb n='654'/><anchor id='Pg654'/> +Earth;</q> in which he clearly demonstrates, by +a great number of facts, the fluctuation which +the magnetical element has undergone during +the last two centuries, confirming in great detail +the position of Halley—that the whole magnetical +system is in motion; that the moving +force is very great, extending its effects from +pole to pole; and its that motion is not sudden, +but gradual and regular. +</p> + +<p> +In the magnetic atlas which accompanies M. +Hansteen's work there is a variation chart for +1787, showing the magnetic force at that period. +In this chart the western line of no variation, +or that which passes through all places on the +globe when the needle points to the true north, +begins in latitude 60° to the west of Hudson's +Bay; proceeds in a southeast direction through +the North American Lakes, passes the Antilles +and Cape St. Roque, till it reaches the South +Atlantic Ocean, when it cuts the meridian of +Greenwich in about 65° of south latitude. This +line of no variation is extremely regular, being +almost straight, till it bends round the eastern +part of South America, a little south of the +equator. The eastern line of no variation is +exceedingly irregular, being full of curves and +contortions of the most extraordinary kind, indicating +plainly the action of local magnetic +forces. It begins in latitude 60° south, below +New Holland; crosses that island through its +centre; extends through the Indian Archipelago +with a double sinuosity, so as to cross the +equator three times—first passing north of it to +the east of Borneo, then returning to it, and +passing south between Sumatra and Borneo, and +then crossing it again south of Ceylon, from +which it passes to the east through the Yellow +Sea. It then stretches along the coast of China, +making a semicircular sweep to the west, till it +reaches the latitude of 71°, when it descends +again to the south, and returns northwards with +a great semicircular bend, which terminates in +the White Sea. Thus it is demonstrated that +in the northern hemisphere the general motion +of the variation lines is from west to east, in the +southern hemisphere from east to west. +</p> + +<p> +A great impetus was given to the study of +terrestrial magnetism by the publication of M. +Hansteen's labors; and the various arctic expeditions +sent out by the country did much toward +making us acquainted with the laws of magnetism +in the northern regions. One of these expeditions +led to the discovery of the north magnetic +pole, or that point where the dipping-needle +assumes a vertical position. The discovery +was made by Captain Sir James Ross, +who sailed with his uncle Sir John Ross, in a +voyage undertaken in search of a northwest +passage. He left his uncle's ship with a party +for the sole purpose of reaching this interesting +magnetical point, which a series of observations +assured him could not be very far distant. The +following extract from his journal communicating +his discovery will be read with interest. +Under the date of the 31st of May 1831, he +writes: <q>We were now within fourteen miles +of the calculated position of the magnetic pole, +and my anxiety, therefore, did not permit me to +do or endure any thing which might delay my +arrival at the long wished-for spot. I resolved, +therefore, to leave behind the greater part of +our baggage and provisions, and to take onward +nothing more than was strictly necessary, +lest bad weather or other accidents should be +added to delay, or lest unforeseen circumstances, +still more untoward, should deprive me entirely of +the high gratification which I could not but look to +in accomplishing this most-desired object. We +commenced, therefore, a most rapid march, +comparatively disencumbered as we now were; +and persevering with all our might, we reached +the calculated place at eight in the morning of +the 1st of June. The amount of the dip, as indicated +by my dipping-needle, was 89° 59', +being thus within one minute of the vertical; +while the proximity at least of this magnetic +pole, if not its actual existence where we stood, +was further confirmed by the total inaction of +the several horizontal needles then in my possession. +These were suspended in the most +delicate manner possible, but there was not one +which showed the slightest effort to move from +the position in which it was placed—a fact +which even the most moderately-informed of +readers must know to be one which proves that +the centre of attraction lies at a very small horizontal +distance, if at any. The land at this +place is very low near the coast, but it rises +into ridges of fifty or sixty feet high about a +mile inland. We could have wished that a +place so important had possessed more of mark +or note. But nature had here erected no monument +to denote the spot that she had chosen as +the centre of one of her great and dark powers. +We had abundance of materials for building in +the fragments of limestone that covered the +beach, and we therefore erected a cairn of some +magnitude, under which we buried a canister +containing a record of the interesting fact, only +regretting that we had not the means of constructing +a pyramid of more importance, and of +strength sufficient to stand the assaults of time +and of the Esquimaux.</q> The latitude of this +spot is 70° 5' 17", and its longitude 96° 46' 45" +west. The reader may remember that during +his late arctic voyage in search of Sir John +Franklin, Sir James Ross was extremely anxious +to revisit this interesting locality, which he +was at one time not very distant from; but +which, as the places of magnetic intensity are +continually changing, he would no longer have +found representing the north magnetic pole. +It is not a little remarkable that during Sir +John Ross's voyage, Mr. Barlow, who had been +long engaged investigating the laws of magnetism, +had constructed a magnetical map, in which +he laid down a point which he described as that +where, in all probability, the dipping-needle +would be perpendicular, and which is the very +spot where Sir James Ross ascertained the north +magnetic pole to exist. +</p> + +<p> +But valuable and interesting as were the observations +<pb n='655'/><anchor id='Pg655'/> +made by navigators in different parts +if the globe, yet philosophers began to perceive +that, without some definite plan of proceeding, +the mere multiplication of random observations +made here and there at irregular periods was not +the course most likely to lead to desired results, +and to make us acquainted with the mysterious +laws of magnetism. The establishment of national +observatories for the registration of magnetical +observations became absolutely necessary; +and the illustrious Humboldt, to whom +every branch of science owes so much, gave the +first impulse to this great undertaking. During +the course of his memorable voyages and travels +in various parts of the globe, the observation of +the magnetic phenomena in all their particulars +occupied a large portion of his attention; and +as the commencement of any great work is always +an epoch of rare and lasting interest, we +shall give the philosopher's own words on the +subject: <q>When the first proposal to establish +a system of observatories forming a network of +stations, all provided with similar instruments, +was made by myself, I could hardly entertain +the hope that I should actually live to see the +time when, thanks to the united activity of excellent +physicists and astronomers, and especially +to the munificent and persevering support of +two governments—the Russian and the British, +both hemispheres should be covered with magnetic +observatories. In 1806 and 1807 my +friend M. Altmanns and myself frequently observed +the march of the declination needle at +Berlin for five or six days and nights consecutively, +from hour to hour, and often from half hour +to half hour, particularly at the equinoxes and +solstices. I was persuaded that continuous uninterrupted +observations during several days and +nights were preferable to detached observations +continued during an interval of many months.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Political disturbances, always ruinous to the +calm researches of the man of science, for many +years prevented Humboldt carrying his wishes +into effect; and it was not until 1828 that he +was enabled to erect a small observatory at +Berlin, whose more immediate object was to +institute a series of simultaneous observations +at concerted hours at Berlin, Paris, and Freiburg. +In 1829 magnetic stations were established +throughout Northern Asia, in connection with +an expedition to that country which emanated +from the Russian government; and in 1832 M. +Gauss, the illustrious founder of a general theory +of terrestrial magnetism, established a magnetic +observatory at Göttingen, which was completed +in 1834, and furnished with his ingenious instruments. +</p> + +<p> +In 1836 Baron Humboldt addressed a long +and highly-interesting letter to the Duke of +Sussex, then president of the Royal Society, +urging the establishment of regular magnetical +stations in the British possessions in North +America, Australia, the Cape of Good Hope, +and between the tropics, not only for the observation +of the momentary perturbations of the +needle, but also for that of its periodical and +secular movements. This appeal was nobly +responded to. +</p> + +<p> +The Royal Society, in conjunction with the +British Association, called on government to +advance the necessary funds to establish magnetical +observatories at Greenwich, and in various +parts of the British possessions; and in 1839-40 +magnetical establishments were in activity at St. +Helena, the Cape of Good Hope, Canada, and +Van Diemen's Land. The munificence of the +directors of the East India Company founded +and furnished, at the request of the Royal Society, +magnetic observatories at Simla, Madras, +Bombay, and Singapore, and the observations +will be published in a similar form to those of the +British observatories. We will now briefly describe +the scheme of observations, and the manner +of making them in the different observatories. +</p> + +<p> +Each observatory is supplied with three magnetometers, +or bars of magnetized steel, delicately +suspended by threads of raw silk, which +measure the magnetical declination, horizontal +intensity, and vertical force—and such astronomical +apparatus as is required for ascertaining the +time and the true meridian. To these have also +been added in each case a most complete and +perfect set of meteorological instruments, carefully +compared with the standards in possession +of the Royal Society, not only for the purpose +of affording the necessary corrections of the +magnetic observations, but also with a view to +obtaining at each station, at very little additional +cost and trouble, a complete series of meteorological +observations. In order that the observations +may be made at the same periods +of time, it was resolved that the mean time +at Göttingen should be employed at all the +stations, without any regard to the apparent +times of day at the stations themselves. Each +day is supposed to be divided into twelve equal +portions of two hours each, commencing at all +the stations at the same instants of absolute time, +which are called the magnetic hours. At the +commencement of each period of two hours +throughout the day and night, with the exception +of Sundays, the magnetometers are observed, +and the meteorological instruments read off. Independently +of these observations, others are made +at stated periodical intervals every two minutes +and a half during twenty-four hours. These are +known by the name of <q>turn-day observations.</q> +Printed forms for registering the observations +have been prepared with great care, in order +that a complete form of registry may be preserved—a +point of great importance, when it is +remembered that all the observations made at +the different stations must eventually be reduced +and analyzed. A singularly felicitous adaptation +of photography has been carried into effect +with the magnetometers. By means of mirrors +attached to their arms, reflected light is cast on +highly-sensitive photographic paper wound round +a cylinder moved by clockwork, and the slightest +variation of the magnets is registered with the +greatest accuracy. +</p> + +<p> +The period has not yet arrived for reaping +<pb n='656'/><anchor id='Pg656'/> +the fruits of all the labor carried on in the magnetic +observatories at home and abroad, but +already certain results have been deduced from +the observations which are highly interesting. +It appears that if the globe be divided into an +eastern and a western hemisphere by a plane +coinciding with the meridians of 100° and 280°, +the western hemisphere, or that comprising the +Americas and the Pacific Ocean, has a much +higher magnetic intensity distributed generally +over its surface than the eastern hemisphere, +containing Europe and Africa, and the adjacent +part of the Atlantic Ocean. The distribution +of the magnetic intensity in the intertropical +regions of the globe affords evidence of two +governing magnetic centres in each hemisphere. +The highest magnetic intensity which has been +observed is more than twice as great as the +lowest. It had long been known that in Europe +the north end of a magnet suspended horizontally +(meaning by the north end that which is directed +toward the north) moves to the east from the +night until between seven and eight o'clock in +the morning, when an opposite movement commences, +and the north end of the magnet moves +to the west. Recent observations have shown +that a similar movement takes place at the same +hours of local time in North America, and that +it is general in the middle latitudes of the northern +hemisphere; but to show the capricious +nature of magnetism, it may be mentioned, that +although in the southern portion of the globe the +movement of the magnet in the contrary direction +is constant throughout the year, yet at St. +Helena the peculiar feature of the diurnal is, that +during one half of the year the movement of the +north end of the magnet corresponds in direction +with the movement which is taking place in +the northern hemisphere, while in the other half +of the year the direction corresponds with that +which is taking place in the southern hemisphere. +</p> + +<p> +Another striking result of these investigations +is the estimate of the total magnetic power of +the earth as compared with a steel bar magnetized +one pound in weight. This proportion is +calculated as 8,464,000,000,000,000,000,000 to +1, which, supposing the magnetic force uniformly +distributed, will be found to amount to about six +such bars to every cubic yard of the earth's surface. +</p> + +<p> +Thus measured, it will be seen how tremendously +mysterious is the power of magnetism, +and how potent an influence it must possess +over animate and inanimate nature! And not +one of its least wonderful mysteries is its singular +exception to the character of stability and +permanence. The configuration of our globe, +the distribution of temperature in its interior, the +tides and currents of the ocean, the general +course of winds, and the affections of climate—all +these are appreciably constant. But magnetism, +that subtle, undefinable fluid, is perpetually +undergoing a change, and of so rapid a +nature, that it becomes necessary to assume +epochs, which ought not to be more than ten +years apart, to which every observation should +be reduced. The extreme importance of knowing +the exact amount of magnetic variation can +scarcely be overrated for maritime purposes; +and the establishment of a complete magnetical +theory, based on an extensive series of observations, +must be regarded as a desideratum by +the first nautical country. +</p> + +<p> +The numerous magnetical surveys that have +been made by our government, taken in conjunction +with those in progress on the continent +of Europe, and particularly in the Austrian +dominions, give a full promise of the speedy +realization of M. Humboldt's wish, so earnestly +expressed, that the materials of the first general +magnetic map of the globe should be assembled; +and even permit the anticipation, that the first +normal epoch of such a map will be but little +removed from the present year. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Early History Of The Use Of Coal. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +Bituminous matter, if not the carboniferous +system itself, exists abundantly on the +banks of the Euphrates. In the basin of the +Nile coal has been recently detected. It occurs +sparingly in some of the states of Greece; and +Theophrastus, in his <q>History of Stones,</q> refers +to mineral coal (<foreign rend='italic'>lithanthrax</foreign>) being found in +Liguria and in Elis, and used by the smiths; +the stones are earthy, he adds, but kindle and +burn like wood coals (the <emph>anthrax</emph>). But by +none of the Oriental nations does it appear that +the vast latent powers and virtues of the mineral +were thus early discovered, so as to render it +an object of commerce or of geological research. +What the Romans termed <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>lapis ampelites</foreign>, is +generally understood to mean our cannel coal, +which they used not as fuel, but in making +toys, bracelets, and other ornaments; while +their <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>carbo</foreign>, which +Pliny describes as <foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vehementer +perlucet</foreign>, was simply the petroleum or naphtha, +which issues so abundantly from all the tertiary +deposits. Coal is found in Syria, and the term +frequently occurs in the Sacred Writings. But +there is no reference any where in the inspired +record as to digging or boring for the mineral—no +directions for its use—no instructions as +to its constituting a portion of the promised +treasures of the land. In their burnt-offerings, +wood appears uniformly to have been employed; +in Leviticus, the term is used as synonymous +with fire, where it is said that <q>the priests shall +lay the parts in order upon the wood</q>—that is, +on the fire which is upon the altar. And in the +same manner for all domestic purposes, wood +and charcoal were invariably made use of. +Doubtless the ancient Hebrews would be acquainted +with <emph>natural</emph> coal, as in the mountains +of Lebanon, whither they continually resorted +for their timber, seams of coal near Beirout +were seen to protrude through the superincumbent +strata in various directions. Still there are +no traces of pits or excavations into the rock to +show that they duly appreciated the extent and +<pb n='657'/><anchor id='Pg657'/> +uses of the article.... For many reasons it +would seem that, among modern nations, the +primitive Britons were the first to avail themselves +of the valuable combustible. The word +by which it is designated is not of Saxon, but +of British extraction, and is still employed to +this day by the Irish, in their form of <foreign rend='italic'>o-gual</foreign>, +and in that of <foreign rend='italic'>kolan</foreign> by the Cornish. In Yorkshire, +stone hammers and hatchets have been +found in old mines, showing that the early +Britons worked coals before the invasion of the +Romans. Manchester, which has risen upon +the very ashes of the mineral, and grown to all +its wealth and greatness under the influence of +its heat and light, next claims the merit of the +discovery. Portions of coal have been found +under, or imbedded in the sand of a Roman +way, excavated some years ago for the construction +of a house, and which at the time +were ingeniously conjectured by the local antiquaries +to have been collected for the use of the +garrison stationed on the route of these warlike +invaders at Mancenion, or the Place of Tents. +Certain it is that fragments of coal are being +constantly, in the district, washed out and +brought down by the Medlock and other streams, +which break from the mountains through the +coal strata. The attention of the inhabitants +would in this way be the more early and readily +attracted by the glistening substance. Nevertheless, +for long after, coal was but little valued +or appreciated, turf and wood being the common +articles of consumption throughout the +country. About the middle of the ninth century, +a grant of land was made by the Abbey +of Peterborough, under the restriction of certain +payments in kind to the monastery, among which +are specified sixty carts of wood, and as showing +their comparative worth, only twelve carts +of pit coal. Toward the end of the thirteenth +century, Newcastle is said to have traded in the +article, and by a charter of Henry III., of date +1284, a license is granted to the burgesses to +dig for the mineral. About this period, coals +for the first time began to be imported into +London, but were made use of only by smiths, +brewers, dyers, and other artisans, when, in +consequence of the smoke being regarded as +very injurious to the public health, parliament +petitioned the king, Edward I., to prohibit the +burning of coal, on the ground of being an intolerable +nuisance. A proclamation was granted, +conformable to the prayer of the petition; +and the most severe inquisitorial measures were +adopted to restrict or altogether abolish the use +of the combustible, by fine, imprisonment, and +destruction of the furnaces and workshops! +They were again brought into common use in +the time of Charles I., and have continued to +increase steadily with the extension of the arts +and manufactures, and the advancing tide of +population, till now, in the metropolis and suburbs, +coals are annually consumed to the amount +of about three million of tons. The use of coal +in Scotland seems to be connected with the rise +of the monasteries.... Under the regime of +domestic rule at Dunfermline, coals were worked +in the year 1291—at Dysart and other places +along the Fife coast, about half a century later—and +generally in the fourteenth and fifteenth +centuries the inhabitants were assessed in coals +to the churches and chapels, which, after the +Reformation, have still continued to be paid in +many parishes. Boethius records that in his +time the inhabitants of Fife and the Lothians +dug <q>a black stone,</q> which, when kindled, +gave out a heat sufficient to melt iron.—<hi rend='italic'>Rev. +Dr. Anderson's Course of Creation.</hi> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Jenny Lind. +By Fredrika Bremer.</head> + +<p> +There was once a poor and plain little girl +dwelling in a little room in Stockholm, the +capital of Sweden. She was a poor little girl +indeed, then; she was lonely and neglected, +and would have been very unhappy, deprived +of the kindness and care so necessary to a child, +if it had not been for a peculiar gift. The little +girl had a fine voice, and in her loneliness, in +trouble or in sorrow, she consoled herself by +singing. In fact she sang to all she did; at +her work, at her play, running or resting, she +always sang. +</p> + +<p> +The woman who had her in care went out +to work during the day, and used to lock in the +little girl, who had nothing to enliven her solitude +but the company of a cat. The little girl +played with her cat and sang. Once she sat +by the open window and stroked her cat and +sang, when a lady passed by. She heard the +voice and looked up and saw the little singer. +She asked the child several questions, went +away, and came back several days later, followed +by an old music master, whose name +was Crelius. He tried the little girl's musical +ear and voice, and was astonished. He took +her to the director of the Royal Opera of Stockholm, +then a Count Puhe, whose truly generous +and kind heart was concealed by rough speech +and a morbid temper. Crelius introduced his +little pupil to the count, and asked him to engage +her as <q><foreign rend='italic'>élève</foreign> for the opera.</q> <q>You ask +a foolish thing!</q> said the count, gruffly, looking +disdainfully down on the poor little girl. <q>What +shall we do with that ugly thing? see what +feet she has? And then her face? She will +never be presentable. No, we can not take +her. Away with her!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The music master insisted, almost indignantly. +<q>Well,</q> exclaimed he at last, <q>if you +will not take her, poor as I am, I will take her +myself, and have her educated for the scene; +such another ear as she has for music is not to +be found in the world!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The count relented. The little girl was at +last admitted into the school for <foreign rend='italic'>élèves</foreign>, at the +Opera, and with some difficulty a simple gown +of black bombazine was procured for her. The +care of her musical education was left to an +able master, Mr. Albert Breg, director of the +song school of the Opera. +</p> + +<pb n='658'/><anchor id='Pg658'/> + +<p> +Some years later, at a comedy given by the +<foreign rend='italic'>élèves</foreign> of the theatre, several persons were struck +by the spirit and life with which a very young +<foreign rend='italic'>élève</foreign> acted the part of a beggar-girl in the +play. Lovers of genial nature were charmed, +pedants almost frightened. It was our poor +little girl, who had made her first appearance, +now about fourteen years of age, frolicksome +and full of fun as a child. +</p> + +<p> +A few years still later, a young debutante +was to sing for the first time before the public +in Weber's Freischutz. At the rehearsal preceding +the representation of the evening, she +sang in a manner which made the members of +the orchestra at once lay down their instruments +to clap their hands in rapturous applause. It +was our poor, plain little girl here again, who +now had grown up and was to appear before +the public in the role of Agatha. I saw her +at the evening representation. She was then +in the prime of youth, fresh, bright, and serene +as a morning in May—perfect in form—her +hands and her arms peculiarly graceful—and +lovely in her whole appearance, through the +expression of her countenance, and the noble +simplicity and calmness of her manners. In +fact she was charming. We saw not an actress, +but a young girl full of natural geniality and +grace. She seemed to move, speak, and sing +without effort or art. All was nature and harmony. +Her song was distinguished especially +by its purity, and the power of soul which +seemed to swell in her tones. Her <q>mezzo +voice</q> was delightful. In the night scene +where Agatha, seeing her lover come, breathes +out her joy in rapturous song, our young singer +on turning from the window, at the back of the +theatre, to the spectators again, was pale for +joy. And in that pale joyousness she sang with +a burst of outflowing love and life that called +forth, not the mirth, but the tears of the auditors. +</p> + +<p> +From this time she was the declared favorite +of the Swedish public, whose musical tastes +and knowledge are said not to be surpassed. +And, year after year, she continued so, though, +after a time, her voice, being overstrained, lost +somewhat of its freshness, and the public being +satiated, no more crowded the house when she +was singing. Still, at that time, she could be +heard singing and playing more delightfully +than ever in Pamina (in Zauberflote) or in Anna +Bolena, though the opera was almost deserted. +She evidently sang for the pleasure of the song. +</p> + +<p> +By that time she went to take lessons of +Garcia, in Paris, and so give the finishing touch +to her musical education. There she acquired +that warble in which she is said to have been +equalled by no singer, and which could be compared +only to that of the soaring and warbling +lark, if the lark had a soul. +</p> + +<p> +And then the young girl went abroad and +sang on foreign shores and to foreign people. +She charmed Denmark, she charmed Germany, +she charmed England. She was caressed and +courted every where, even to adulation. At +the courts of kings, the houses of the great and +noble, she was feasted as one of the grandees of +nature and art. She was covered with laurels +and jewels. But friends wrote of her, <q>In the +midst of these splendors she only thinks of her Sweden, +and yearns for her friends and her people.</q> +</p> + +<p> +One dusky October night, crowds of people +(the most part, by their dress, seemed to belong +to the upper classes of society) thronged on the +shore of the Baltic harbor at Stockholm. All +looked toward the sea. There was a rumor of +expectance and pleasure. Hours passed away, +and the crowds still gathered, and waited and +looked out eagerly toward the sea. At length +a brilliant rocket rose joyfully, far out at the +entrance of the harbor, and was greeted with a +general buzz on the shore. +</p> + +<p> +<q>There she comes! there she is!</q> A large +steamer now came whelming on its triumphant +way through the flocks of ships and boats lying +in the harbor, toward the shore of the <q>Skeppsbero.</q> +Flashing rockets marked its way in the +dark as it advanced. The crowds on the shore +pressed forward as if to meet it. Now the +leviathan of the waters was heard thundering +nearer and nearer; now it relented, now again +pushed on, foaming and splashing; now it lay still. +And, there on the front of the deck, was seen +by the light of lamps and rockets, a pale, graceful +young woman, her eyes brilliant with tears, +and lips radiant with smiles, waving her handkerchief +to her friends and countrymen on shore. +</p> + +<p> +It was she again—our poor, plain, neglected +little girl of former days—who now came back +in triumph to her fatherland. But no more +poor, no more plain, no more neglected. She +had become rich; she had in her slender person +the power to charm and inspire multitudes. +</p> + +<p> +Some days later, we read in the papers of +Stockholm, an address to the public written by +the beloved singer, stating, with noble simplicity, +that <q>as she once more had the happiness to be +in her native land, she would be glad to sing +again to her countrymen, and that the income +of the operas in which she was this season to +appear, would be devoted to raise a fund for a +school where <foreign rend='italic'>élèves</foreign> for the theatre would be +educated to virtue and knowledge.</q> The intelligence +was received as it deserved, and of +course the Opera was crowded every night the +beloved singer sang there. The first time she +again appeared in Somnambula (one of her +favorite roles), the public, after the curtain was +dropped, called her back with great enthusiasm, +and received her, when she appeared, with a +roar of hurrahs. In the midst of the burst of +applause a clear and melodious warbling was +heard. The hurrahs were hushed instantly. +And we saw the lovely singer standing with her +arms slightly extended, somewhat bowing forward, +graceful as a bird on its branch warbling, +warbling as no bird ever did, from note to note—and +on every one a clear, strong, soaring +warble—until she fell into the retournelle of her +last song, and again sang that joyful and touching +strain, +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q>No thought can conceive how I feel at my heart.</q> +</quote> + +</div> + +<pb n='659'/><anchor id='Pg659'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>My Novel; Or, Varieties In English Life. +By Pisistratus Caxton. +(From Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine.)</head> + +<div> +<head> +Book I.—Initial Chapter: Showing How My Novel +Came To Be Written.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Scene</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>the Hall in Uncle Roland's Tower</hi>; +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Time</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>night</hi>; <hi rend='smallcaps'>Season</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>winter</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Caxton is seated before a great geographical +globe, which he is turning round +leisurely, and <q>for his own recreation,</q> as, according +to Sir Thomas Browne, a philosopher +should turn round the orb, of which that globe +professes to be the representation and effigies. +My mother having just adorned a very small +frock with a very smart braid, is holding it out +at arm's length, the more to admire the effect. +Blanche, though leaning both hands on my +mother's shoulder, is not regarding the frock, +but glances toward <hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, who, seated +near the fire leaning back in his chair, and his +head bent over his breast, seems in a very bad +humor. Uncle Roland, who has become a great +novel reader, is deep in the mysteries of some +fascinating Third Volume. Mr. Squills has +brought <hi rend='italic'>The Times</hi> in his pocket for his own +special profit and delectation, and is now bending +his brows over <q>the state of the money +market</q> in great doubt whether railway shares +can possibly fall lower. For Mr. Squills, happy +man! has large savings, and does not know +what to do with his money; or, to use his own +phrase, <q>how to buy in at the cheapest, in order +to sell out at the dearest.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Caxton, musingly.—<q>It must have been +a monstrous long journey. It would be somewhere +hereabouts, I take it, that they would +split off.</q> +</p> + +<p> +My Mother, mechanically, and in order to +show Austin that she paid him the compliment +of attending to his remarks.—<q>Who split off, +my dear?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Bless me, Kitty,</q> said my father, in great +admiration, <q>you ask just the question which it +is most difficult to answer. An ingenious speculator +on races contends that the Danes, whose +descendants make the chief part of our northern +population (and, indeed, if his hypothesis could +be correct, we must suppose all the ancient +worshipers of Odin), are of the same origin as +the Etrurians. And why, Kitty? I just ask +you, why?</q> +</p> + +<p> +My mother shook her head thoughtfully, +and turned the frock to the other side of the +light. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Because, forsooth,</q> cried my father, exploding—<q>because +the Etrurians called their gods +<q>the Æsar,</q> and the Scandinavians called theirs +the Æsir, or Aser! And where do you think +he puts their cradle?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Cradle!</q> said my mother, dreamily; <q>it +must be in the nursery.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>Exactly—in the nursery of +the human race—just here,</q> and my father +pointed to the globe; <q>bounded, you see, by +the River Helys, and in that region which, taking +its name from Ees, or As (a word designating +light or fire), has been immemorially called +<hi rend='italic'>Asia</hi>. Now, Kitty, from Ees or As, our ethnological +speculator would derive not only Asia, +the land, but Æser or Aser, its primitive inhabitants. +Hence, he supposes the origin of the +Etrurians, and the Scandinavians. But, if we +give him so much, we must give him more, and +deduce from the same origin the Es of the Celt, +and the Ized of the Persian, and—what will be +of more use to him, I dare say, poor man, than +all the rest put together—the Æs of the Romans, +that is, the God of Copper-Money—a very +powerful household god he is to this day!</q> +</p> + +<p> +My mother looked musingly at her frock, as +if she were taking my father's proposition into +serious consideration. +</p> + +<p> +<q>So, perhaps,</q> resumed my father, <q>and not +unconformably with sacred records, from one +great parent horde came all these various tribes, +carrying with them the name of their beloved +Asia; and whether they wandered north, south, +or west, exalting their own emphatic designation +of <q>Children of the Land of Light</q> into the +title of gods. And to think (added Mr. Caxton +pathetically, gazing upon that speck in the +globe on which his forefinger rested), to think +how little they changed for the better when +they got to the Don, or entangled their rafts +amidst the icebergs of the Baltic—so comfortably +off as they were here, if they could but have +staid quiet!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And why the deuce could not they?</q> asked +Mr. Squills. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Pressure of population, and not enough to +live upon, I suppose,</q> said my father. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, sulkily.—<q>More probably they +did away with the Corn Laws, sir.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Papæ!</q> quoth my father, <q>that throws a +new light on the subject.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, full of his grievances, and not +caring three straws about the origin of the +Scandinavians—<q>I know that if we are to lose +£500 every year on a farm which we hold rent-free, +and which the best judges allow to be a +perfect model for the whole country, we had +better make haste, and turn Æsar, or Aser, or +whatever you call them, and fix a settlement on +the property of other nations, otherwise, I suspect, +our probable settlement will be on the +parish.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Squills</hi>, who, it must be remembered, +is an enthusiastic free-trader—<q>You have only +got to put more capital on the land.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>Well, Mr. Squills, as you +think so well of that investment, put <emph>your</emph> capital +<pb n='660'/><anchor id='Pg660'/> +on it. I promise that you shall have every +shilling of profit.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Squills</hi>, hastily retreating behind <hi rend='italic'>The +Times</hi>—<q>I don't think the Great Western can +fall any lower: though it <emph>is</emph> hazardous—I can +but venture a few hundreds—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>On our land, Squills? Thank +you.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Squills</hi>.—<q>No, no—any thing but that—on +the Great Western.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Pisistratus relapses into gloom. Blanche +steals up coaxingly, and gets snubbed for her +pains. +</p> + +<p> +A pause. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>There are two golden rules +of life: one relates to the mind, and the other to +the pockets. The first is—If our thoughts get +into a low, nervous, aguish condition, we should +make them change the air; the second is comprised +in the proverb, <q>it is good to have two +strings to one's bow.</q> Therefore, Pisistratus, I +tell you what you must do—write a book!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>Write a book!—Against the +abolition of the Corn Laws? Faith, sir, the +mischief's done. It takes a much better pen +than mine to write down an act of Parliament.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>I only said, <q>Write a book.</q> +All the rest is the addition of your own headlong +imagination.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, with the recollection of the great +book rising before him—<q>Indeed, sir, I should +think that that would just finish us!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>, not seeming to heed the interruption—<q>A +book that will sell! A book that +will prop up the fall of prices! A book that +will distract your mind from its dismal apprehensions, +and restore your affection to your +species, and your hopes in the ultimate triumph +of sound principles—by the sight of a favorable +balance at the end of the yearly accounts. It is +astonishing what a difference that little circumstance +makes in our views of things in general. +I remember when the bank, in which Squills had +incautiously left £1000, broke; one remarkably +healthy year, that he became a great alarmist, +and said that the country was on the verge of +ruin; whereas, you see now, when, thanks to a +long succession of sickly seasons, he has a surplus +capital to risk in the Great Western—he is +firmly persuaded that England was never in so +prosperous a condition.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Squills</hi>, rather sullenly.—<q>Pooh, pooh.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>Write a book, my son—write +a book. Need I tell you that Money or +Moneta, according to Hyginus, was the mother +of the Muses? Write a book.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Blanche</hi> and my +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mother</hi>, in full chorus.—<q>yes, +Sisty—a book—a book! you must +write a book!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am sure,</q> quoth my Uncle Roland, slamming +down the volume he had just concluded, +<q>he could write a devilish deal better book than +this; and how I come to read such trash, night +after night, is more than I could possibly explain +to the satisfaction of any intelligent jury, if I +were put into a witness-box, and examined in +the mildest manner by my own counsel.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>You see that Roland tells us +exactly what sort of a book it shall be.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>Trash, sir?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>No—that is not necessarily +trash—but a book of that class which, whether +trash or not, people can't help reading. Novels +have become a necessity of the age. You must +write a novel.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, flattered, but dubious.—<q rend='pre'>A +novel! But every subject on which novels can +be written is preoccupied. There are novels +on low life, novels of high life, military novels, +naval novels, novels philosophical, novels religious, +novels historical, novels descriptive of India, +the Colonies, Ancient Rome, and the Egyptian +Pyramids. From what bird, wild eagle, or +barn-door fowl, can I</q> +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<q rend='post'><q>Pluck one unwearied plume from Fancy's wing?</q></q> +</quote> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>, after a little thought.—<q>You +remember the story which Trevanion (I beg his +pardon, Lord Ulswater) told us the other night. +That gives you something of the romance of +real life for your plot—puts you chiefly among +scenes with which you are familiar, and furnishes +you with characters which have been +very sparingly dealt with since the time of +Fielding. You can give us the country squire, +as you remember him in your youth: it is a +specimen of a race worth preserving—the old +idiosyncrasies of which are rapidly dying off, as +the railways bring Norfolk and Yorkshire within +easy reach of the manners of London. You +can give us the old-fashioned parson, as in all +essentials he may yet be found—but before you +had to drag him out of the great Puseyite sectarian +bog; and, for the rest, I really think that +while, as I am told, many popular writers are +doing their best, especially in France, and perhaps +a little in England, to set class against +class, and pick up every stone in the kennel to +shy at a gentleman with a good coat on his +back, something useful might be done by a few +good humored sketches of those innocent criminals +a little better off than their neighbors, +whom, however we dislike them, I take it for +granted we shall have to endure, in one shape +or another, as long as civilization exists; and +they seem, on the whole, as good in their present +shape, as we are likely to get, shake the +dice-box of society how we will.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>Very well said, sir; but this +rural country gentleman life is not so new as +you think. There's Washington Irving—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>Charming—but rather the +manners of the last century than this. You may +as well cite Addison and Sir Roger de Coverley.</q> +</p> + +<pb n='661'/><anchor id='Pg661'/> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q><hi rend='italic'>Tremaine</hi> +and <hi rend='italic'>De Vere</hi>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q>Nothing can be more graceful, +nor more unlike what I mean. The Pales +and Terminus I wish you to put up in the fields +are familiar images, that you may cut out of +in oak tree—not beautiful marble statues, on +porphyry pedestals twenty feet high.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>.—<q>Miss Austin; Mrs. Gore in +her masterpiece of <hi rend='italic'>Mrs. Armytage;</hi> Mrs. Marsh, +too; and then (for Scottish manners) Miss Ferrier!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>, growing cross.—<q>Oh, if you +can not treat on bucolics but what you must hear +some Virgil or other cry <q>Stop thief!</q> you deserve +to be tossed by one of your own <q>short-horns.</q> +(Still more contemptuously)—I am sure +I don't know why we spend so much money on +sending our sons to school to learn Latin, when +that Anachronism of yours, Mrs. Caxton, can't +even construe a line and a half of Phædrus. +Phædrus, Mrs. Caxton—a book which is in +Latin what Goody Two Shoes is in the vernacular!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mrs. Caxton</hi>, alarmed and indignant.—<q>Fie, +Austin! I am sure you can construe Phædras, +dear!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Pisistratus prudently preserves silence. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mr. Caxton</hi>.—<q rend='pre'>I'll try him—</q> +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> + +<l><q rend='pre'>Sua cuique quum sit animi cogitatio</q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>Colorque proprius.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +<q rend='post'>What does that mean?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pisistratus</hi>, smiling.—<q>That every man has +some coloring matter within him, to give his +own tinge to—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>His own novel,</q> interrupted my father! +<q><hi rend='italic'>Contentus peragis</hi>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +During the latter part of this dialogue, +Blanche had sewn together three quires of the +best Bath paper, and she now placed them on a +little table before me, with her own inkstand +and steel pen. +</p> + +<p> +My mother put her finger to her lip, and said, +<q>Hush!</q> my father returned to the cradle of +the Æsar; Captain Roland leant his cheek on +his hand, and gazed abstractedly on the fire; +Mr. Squills fell into a placid doze; and, after +three sighs that would have melted a heart of +stone, I rushed into—<hi rend='smallcaps'>my novel</hi>. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter II.</head> + +<p> +<q>There has never been occasion to use them +since I've been in the parish,</q> said Parson Dale. +</p> + +<p> +<q>What does that prove?</q> quoth the Squire, +sharply, and looking the Parson full in the face. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Prove!</q> repeated Mr. Dale—with a smile +of benign, yet too conscious superiority—<q>What +does experience prove?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>That your forefathers were great blockheads, +and that their descendant is not a whit +the wiser.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Squire,</q> replied the Parson, <q>although that +is a melancholy conclusion, yet if you mean it +to apply universally, and not to the family of +the Dales in particular, it is not one which my +candor as a reasoner, and my humility as a +mortal, will permit me to challenge.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I defy you.</q> said Mr. Hazeldean, triumphantly. +<q>But to stick to the subject, which it is +monstrous hard to do when one talks with a +parson, I only just ask you to look yonder, and +tell me on your conscience—I don't even say as +a parson, but as a parishioner—whether you +ever saw a more disreputable spectacle?</q> +</p> + +<p> +While he spoke, the Squire, leaning heavily +on the Parson's left shoulder, extended his cane +in a line parallel with the right eye of that disputatious +ecclesiastic, so that he might guide +the organ of sight to the object he had thus unflatteringly +described. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I confess,</q> said the Parson, <q>that, regarded +by the eye of the senses, it is a thing that in +its best day had small pretensions to beauty, +and is not elevated into the picturesque even by +neglect and decay. But, my friend, regarded +by the eye of the inner man—of the rural philosopher +and parochial legislator—I say it is by +neglect and decay that it is rendered a very +pleasing feature in what I may call <q>the moral +topography of a parish.</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +The Squire looked at the Parson as if he +could have beaten him; and indeed, regarding +the object in dispute not only with the eye of +the outer man, but the eye of law and order, the +eye of a country gentleman and a justice of the +peace, the spectacle <emph>was</emph> scandalously disreputable. +It was moss-grown; it was worm-eaten; +it was broken right in the middle; through its +four socketless eyes, neighbored by the nettle, +peered the thistle:—the thistle!—a forest of +thistles!—and, to complete the degradation of +the whole, those thistles had attracted the donkey +of an itinerant tinker; and the irreverent +animal was in the very act of taking his luncheon +out of the eyes and jaws of—<hi rend='smallcaps'>The Parish +Stocks</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +The Squire looked as if he could have beaten +the Parson; but as he was not without some +slight command of temper, and a substitute was +luckily at hand, he gulped down his resentment +and made a rush—at the donkey! +</p> + +<p> +Now the donkey was hampered by a rope to +its forefeet, to the which was attached a billet +of wood called technically <q>a clog,</q> so that it +had no fair chance of escape from the assault its +sacrilegious luncheon had justly provoked. But, +the ass turning round with unusual nimbleness +at the first stroke of the cane, the Squire caught +his foot in the rope, and went head over heels +among the thistles. The donkey gravely bent +down, and thrice smelt or sniffed its prostrate +foe; then, having convinced itself that it had +nothing farther to apprehend for the present, +and very willing to make the best of the reprieve, +<pb n='662'/><anchor id='Pg662'/> +according to the poetical admonition, +<q>Gather your rosebuds while you may,</q> it cropped +a thistle in full bloom, close to the ear of +the Squire; so close indeed, that the Parson +thought the ear was gone; and with the more +probability, inasmuch as the Squire, feeling the +warm breath of the creature, bellowed out with +all the force of lungs accustomed to give a View-hallo! +</p> + +<p> +<q>Bless me, is it gone?</q> said the Parson, +thrusting his person between the ass and the +squire. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Zounds and the devil!</q> cried the Squire, +rubbing himself as he rose to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hush,</q> said the parson gently <q>What a +horrible oath!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Horrible oath! If you had my nankeens on,</q> +said the Squire, still rubbing himself, <q>and had +fallen into a thicket of thistles with a donkey's +teeth within an inch of your ear!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is not gone—then?</q> interrupted the Parson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>No—that is, I think not,</q> said the Squire +dubiously; and he clapped his hand to the organ +in question. <q>No! it is not gone!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Thank Heaven!</q> said the good Clergyman +kindly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Hum,</q> growled the Squire, who was now +once more engaged in rubbing himself. <q>Thank +Heaven indeed, when I am as full of thorns as a +porcupine! I should just like to know what use +thistles are in the world.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>For donkeys to eat, if you will let them, +Squire,</q> answered the Parson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ugh, you beast!</q> cried Mr. Hazeldean, all +his wrath reawakened, whether by the reference +to the donkey species, or his inability to reply to +the Parson, or perhaps by some sudden prick too +sharp for humanity—especially humanity in nankeens—to +endure without kicking; <q>Ugh, you +beast!</q> he exclaimed, shaking his cane at the +donkey, who, at the interposition of the Parson, +had respectfully recoiled a few paces, and now +stood switching its thin tail, and trying vainly +to lift one of its fore legs—for the flies teased +it. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Poor thing!</q> said the Parson pityingly. +<q>See, it has a raw place on the shoulder, and +the flies have found out the sore.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am devilish glad to hear it,</q> said the +Squire vindictively. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Fie, fie!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is very well to say <q>Fie, fie.</q> It was not +you who fell among the thistles. What's the +man about now, I wonder?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson had walked toward a chestnut tree +that stood on the village green—he broke off a +bough—returned to the donkey—whisked away +the flies, and then tenderly placed the broad +leaves over the sore, as a protection from the +swarms. The donkey turned round its head, +and looked at him with mild wonder. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I would bet a shilling,</q> said the Parson, +softly, <q>that this is the first act of kindness thou +hast met with this many a day. And slight +enough it is, Heaven knows.</q> +</p> + +<p> +With that the Parson put his hand into his +pocket, and drew out an apple. It was a fine +large rose-cheeked apple: one of the last winter's +store, from the celebrated tree in the parsonage +garden, and he was taking it as a present +to a little boy in the village who had notably distinguished +himself in the Sunday school. <q>Nay, +in common justice, Lenny Fairfield should have +the preference,</q> muttered the Parson. The ass +pricked up one of its ears, and advanced its head +timidly. <q>But Lenny Fairfield would be as much +pleased with twopence: and what could twopence +do to thee?</q> The ass's nose now touched +the apple. <q>Take it in the name of Charity,</q> +quoth the Parson, <q>Justice is accustomed to be +served last.</q> And the ass took the apple. +<q>How had you the heart?</q> said the Parson, +pointing to the Squire's cane. +</p> + +<p> +The ass stopped munching, and looked askant +at the Squire. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Pooh! eat on; he'll not beat thee now!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No,</q> said the Squire apologetically. <q>But, +after all, he is not an Ass of the Parish; he is a +vagrant, and he ought to be pounded. But the +pound is in as bad a state as the stocks, thanks +to your new-fashioned doctrines.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>New-fashioned!</q> cried the Parson almost +indignantly, for he had a great disdain of new +fashions. <q>They are as old as Christianity; +nay, as old as Paradise, which you will observe +is derived from a Greek, or rather a Persian +word, and means something more than <q>garden,</q> +corresponding (pursued the Parson rather +pedantically) with the Latin +<foreign lang='la' rend='italic'>vivarium</foreign>—viz. +grove or park full of innocent dumb creatures. +Depend on it, donkeys were allowed to eat +thistles there.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very possibly,</q> said the Squire drily. <q>But +Hazeldean, though a very pretty village, is not +Paradise. The stocks shall be mended to-morrow—ay, +and the pound too—and the next donkey +found trespassing shall go into it, as sure as +my name's Hazeldean.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then,</q> said the Parson gravely, <q>I can only +hope that the next parish may not follow your +example; or that you and I may never be caught +straying!</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter III.</head> + +<p> +Parson Dale and Squire Hazeldean parted +company; the latter to inspect his sheep, the +former to visit some of his parishioners, including +Lenny Fairfield, whom the donkey had defrauded +of his apple. +</p> + +<p> +Lenny Fairfield was sure to be in the way, for +his mother rented a few acres of grass land from +the Squire, and it was now hay-time. And +<pb n='663'/><anchor id='Pg663'/> +Leonard, commonly called Lenny, was an only +son, and his mother a widow. The cottage +stood apart, and somewhat remote, in one of +the many nooks of the long green village lane. +And a thoroughly English cottage it was—three +centuries old at least; with walls of rubble let +into oak frames, and duly whitewashed every +summer, a thatched roof, small panes of glass, +and an old doorway raised from the ground by +two steps. There was about this little dwelling +all the homely rustic elegance which peasant +life admits of: a honeysuckle was trained over +the door; a few flower-pots were placed on the +window-sills; the small plot of ground in front +of the house was kept with great neatness, and +even taste; some large rough stones on either +side the little path having been formed into a +sort of rockwork, with creepers that were now +in flower; and the potato-ground was screened +from the eye by sweet peas and lupine. Simple +elegance all this, it is true; but how well it +speaks for peasant and landlord, when you see +that the peasant is fond of his home, and has +some spare time and heart to bestow upon mere +embellishment. Such a peasant is sure to be a +bad customer to the ale-house, and a safe neighbor +to the Squire's preserves. All honor and +praise to him, except a small tax upon both, +which is due to the landlord! +</p> + +<p> +Such sights were as pleasant to the Parson as +the most beautiful landscapes of Italy can be to +the dilettante. He paused a moment at the +wicket to look around him, and distended his +nostrils voluptuously to inhale the smell of the +sweet peas, mixed with that of the new-mown +hay in the fields behind, which a slight breeze +bore to him. He then moved on, carefully +scraped his shoes, clean and well polished as +they were—for Mr. Dale was rather a beau in +his own clerical way—on the scraper without +the door, and lifted the latch. +</p> + +<p> +Your virtuoso looks with artistical delight on +the figure of some nymph painted on an Etruscan +vase, engaged in pouring out the juice of +the grape from her classic urn. And the Parson +felt as harmless, if not as elegant a pleasure, +in contemplating Widow Fairfield brimming +high a glittering can, which she designed +for the refreshment of the thirsty hay-makers. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Fairfield was a middle-aged, tidy woman, +with that alert precision of movement which +seems to come from an active orderly mind; +and as she now turned her head briskly at the +sound of the Parson's footsteps, she showed a +countenance prepossessing, though not handsome—a +countenance from which a pleasant +hearty smile, breaking forth at that moment +effaced some lines that, in repose, spoke <q>of +sorrows, but of sorrows past;</q> and her cheek, +paler than is common to the complexions even +of the fair sex, when born and bred amidst a +rural population, might have favored the guess +that the earlier part of her life had been spent +in the languid air and <q>within-doors</q> occupation +of a town. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Never mind me,</q> said the Parson, as +Mrs. Fairfield dropped her quick courtesy, and +smoothed her apron; <q>if you are going into the +hayfield, I will go with you; I have something +to say to Lenny—an excellent boy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Widow</hi>.—<q>Well, sir, and you are kind to +say to it—but he is.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>He reads uncommonly well, he +writes tolerably; he is the best lad in the whole +school at his catechism and in the Bible lessons; +and I assure you, when I see his face at church, +looking up so attentively, I fancy that I shall +read my sermon all the better for such a listener!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Widow</hi>, wiping her eyes with the corner of +her apron.—<q>'Deed, sir, when my poor Mark +died, I never thought I could have lived on as I +have done. But that boy is so kind and good, +that when I look at him sitting there in dear +Mark's chair, and remember how Mark loved +him, and all he used to say to me about him, I +feel somehow or other as if my goodman smiled +on me, and would rather I was not with him +yet, till the lad had grown up, and did not want +me any more.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>, looking away, and after a pause.—<q>You +never hear any thing of the old folks at +Lansmere?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>'Deed, sir, sin' poor Mark died, they han't +noticed me, nor the boy; but,</q> added the widow, +with all a peasant's pride, <q>it isn't that I wants +their money; only it's hard to feel strange like +to one's own father and mother!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>You must excuse them. Your +father, Mr. Avenel, was never quite the same +man after that sad event—but you are weeping, +my friend, pardon me:—your mother is a +little proud; but so are you, though in another +way.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Widow</hi>.—<q>I proud! Lord love ye, sir, I +have not a bit of pride in me! and that's the +reason they always looked down on me.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>Your parents must be well off, +and I shall apply to them in a year or two on +behalf of Lenny, for they promised me to +provide for him when he grew up, as they +ought.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Widow</hi>, with flashing eyes.—<q>I am sure, sir, +I hope you will do no such thing; for I would +not have Lenny beholden to them as has never +given him a kind word sin' he was born!</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson smiled gravely and shook his head +at poor Mrs. Fairfield's hasty confutation of her +own self-acquittal from the charge of pride, +but he saw that it was not the time or moment +for effectual peace-making in the most irritable +of all rancors, viz., that nourished against one's +nearest relations. He therefore dropped that +subject, and said, <q>Well, time enough to think +<pb n='664'/><anchor id='Pg664'/> +of Lenny's future prospects: meanwhile we are +forgetting the hay-makers. Come.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The widow opened the back door, which led +across a little apple orchard into the fields. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>You have a pleasant place here, +and I see that my friend Lenny should be in no +want of apples. I had brought him one, but I +have given it away on the road.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Widow</hi>.—<q>Oh, sir, it is not the deed—it is +the will; as I felt when the Squire, God bless +him! took two pounds off the rent the year he—that +is, Mark—died.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>If Lenny continues to be such a +help to you, it will not be long before the +Squire may put the two pounds on again.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, sir,</q> said the widow simply; <q>I hope +he will.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Silly woman!</q> muttered the Parson. <q>That's +not exactly what the schoolmistress would have +said. You don't read nor write, Mrs. Fairfield; +yet you express yourself with great propriety.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You know Mark was a schollard, sir, like +my poor, poor, sister; and though I was a sad +stupid girl afore I married, I tried to take after +him when we came together.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter IV.</head> + +<p> +They were now in the hayfield, and a boy of +about sixteen, but like most country lads, to +appearance much younger than he was, looked +up from his rake, with lively blue eyes, beaming +forth under a profusion of brown curly hair. +</p> + +<p> +Leonard Fairfield was indeed a very handsome +boy—not so stout nor so ruddy as one would +choose for the ideal of rustic beauty; nor yet +so delicate in limb and keen in expression as +are those children of cities, in whom the mind +is cultivated at the expense of the body; but +still he had the health of the country in his +cheeks, and was not without the grace of the +city in his compact figure and easy movements. +There was in his physiognomy something interesting +from its peculiar character of innocence +and simplicity. You could see that he had been +brought up by a woman, and much apart from +familiar contact with other children; and such +intelligence as was yet developed in him, was +not ripened by the jokes and cuffs of his coevals, +but fostered by decorous lecturings from his +elders, and good little boy maxims in good little +boy books. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>Come hither, Lenny. You know +the benefit of school, I see: it can teach you +nothing better than to be a support to your +mother.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>, looking down sheepishly, and with a +heightened glow over his face.—<q>Please, sir, +that may come one of these days.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>—<q>That's right Lenny. Let me +see! why, you must be nearly a man. How old +are you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Lenny looks up inquiringly at his mother. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>You ought to know, Lenny; speak +for yourself. Hold your tongue, Mrs. Fairfield.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>, twirling his hat, and in great perplexity.—<q>Well, +and there is Flop, neighbor +Dutton's old sheep-dog. He be very old now.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>I am not asking Flop's age, but +your own.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>'Deed, sir, I have heard say as how Flop +and I were pups together. That is, I—I—</q> +</p> + +<p> +For the Parson is laughing, and so is Mrs. +Fairfield; and the haymakers, who have stood +still to listen, are laughing too. And poor +Lenny has quite lost his head, and looks as if +he would like to cry. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>, patting the curly locks, encouragingly.—<q>Never +mind; it is not so badly answered +after all. And how old is Flop?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>.—<q>Why, he must be fifteen year and +more.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>How old, then, are you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>, looking up with a beam of intelligence.—<q>Fifteen +year and more!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Widow sighs and nods her head. +</p> + +<p> +<q>That's what we call putting two and two +together,</q> said the Parson. <q>Or, in other +words,</q> and here he raised his eyes majestically +toward the haymakers—<q>in other words—thanks +to his love for his book—simple as he +stands here, Lenny Fairfield has shown himself +capable of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Inductive Ratiocination</hi>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +At those words, delivered <foreign rend='italic'>ore rotundo</foreign>, the +haymakers ceased laughing. For even in lay +matters they held the Parson to be an oracle, +and words so long must have a great deal in +them. +</p> + +<p> +Lenny drew up his head proudly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>You are very fond of Flop, I suppose?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>'Deed he is,</q> said the widow, <q>and of all +poor dumb creatures.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very good. Suppose, my lad, that you had +a fine apple, and that you met a friend who +wanted it more than you; what would you do +with it?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Please you, sir, I would give him half of it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson's face fell. <q>Not the whole, +Lenny?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Lenny considered. <q>If he was a friend, sir, +he would not like me to give him all!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Upon my word, Master Leonard, you speak +so well, that I must e'en tell the truth. I brought +you an apple, as a prize for good conduct in +school. But I met by the way a poor donkey, +and some one beat him for eating a thistle; so I +thought I would make it up by giving him the +apple. Ought I only to have given him the +half?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Lenny's innocent face became all smile; his +interest was aroused. <q>And did the donkey +like the apple?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Very much,</q> said the Parson, fumbling in +<pb n='665'/><anchor id='Pg665'/> +his pocket, but thinking of Leonard Fairfield's +years and understanding; and moreover, observing, +in the pride of his heart, that there were +many spectators to his deed, he thought the +meditated twopence not sufficient, and he generously +produced a silver sixpence. +</p> + +<p> +<q>There, my man, that will pay for the half +apple which you would have kept for yourself.</q> +The Parson again patted the curly locks, and, +after a hearty word or two with the other haymakers, +and a friendly <q>Good-day</q> to Mrs. +Fairfield, struck into a path that led toward his +own glebe. +</p> + +<p> +He had just crossed the stile, when he heard +hasty but timorous feet behind him. He turned, +and saw his friend Lenny. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>, half crying, and +holding out the sixpence.—<q>Indeed, +sir, I would rather not. I +would have given all to the Neddy.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Parson</hi>.—<q>Why, then, my man, you have a +still greater right to the sixpence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lenny</hi>.—<q>No, sir; 'cause you only gave it +to make up for the half apple. And if I had +given the whole, as I ought to have done, why, +I should have had no right to the sixpence. +Please, sir, don't be offended; do take it back, +will you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson hesitated. And the boy thrust the +sixpence into his hand, as the ass had poked his +nose there before in quest of the apple. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I see,</q> said Parson Dale, soliloquizing, <q>that +if one don't give Justice the first place at the +table, all the other Virtues eat up her share.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, the case was perplexing. Charity, +like a forward impudent baggage as she is, +always thrusting herself in the way, and taking +other people's apples to make her own little pie, +had defrauded Lenny of his due; and now Susceptibility, +who looks like a shy, blush-faced, +awkward Virtue in her teens—but who, nevertheless, +is always engaged in picking the pockets +of her sisters, tried to filch from him his lawful +recompense. The case was perplexing; for the +Parson held Susceptibility in great honor, despite +her hypocritical tricks, and did not like to give +her a slap in the face, which might frighten her +away forever. So Mr. Dale stood irresolute, +glancing from the sixpence to Lenny, and from +Lenny to the sixpence. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Buon giorno</foreign>—good-day to you,</q> said +a voice behind, in an accent slightly but unmistakably +foreign, and a strange-looking figure presented +itself at the stile. +</p> + +<p> +Imagine a tall and exceedingly meagre man, +dressed in a rusty suit of black—the pantaloons +tight at the calf and ankle, and there forming a +loose gaiter over thick shoes buckled high at the +instep; an old cloak, lined with red, was thrown +over one shoulder, though the day was sultry; +a quaint, red, outlandish umbrella, with a carved +brass handle, was thrust under one arm, though +the sky was cloudless; a profusion of raven hair, +in waving curls that seemed as fine as silk, +escaped from the sides of a straw-hat of prodigious +brim; a complexion sallow and swarthy, +and features which, though not without considerable +beauty to the eye of the artist, were not only +unlike what we fair, well-fed, neat-faced Englishmen +are wont to consider comely, but exceedingly +like what we are disposed to regard as awful +and Satanic—to wit, a long hooked nose, sunken +cheeks, black eyes, whose piercing brilliancy +took something wizard-like and mystical from +the large spectacles through which they shone; +a mouth round which played an ironical smile, +and in which a physiognomist would have remarked +singular shrewdness and some closeness, +complete the picture: imagine this figure, grotesque, +peregrinate, and to the eye of a peasant +certainly diabolical, then perch it on the stile in +the midst of those green English fields, and in +sight of that primitive English village; there let +it sit straddling, its long legs dangling down, a +short German pipe emitting clouds from one +corner of those sardonic lips, its dark eyes glaring +through the spectacles full upon the Parson, yet +askant upon Lenny Fairfield. Lenny Fairfield +looked exceedingly frightened. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Upon my word, Dr. Riccabocca,</q> said Mr. +Dale, smiling, <q>you come in good time to solve +a very nice question in casuistry;</q> and herewith +the Parson explained the case, and put the question—<q>Ought +Lenny Fairfield to have the sixpence, +or ought he not?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Cospetto</foreign>!</q> said the doctor. <q>If the hen +would but hold her tongue, nobody would know +that she had laid an egg.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter V.</head> + +<p> +<q>Granted,</q> said the Parson; <q>but what follows? +The saying is good, but I don't see the +application.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>A thousand pardons!</q> replied Dr. Riccabocca, +with all the urbanity of an Italian; <q>but +it seems to me, that if you had given the sixpence +to the <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>fanciullo</foreign>—that is, to this good +little boy—without telling him the story about the +donkey, you would never have put him and +yourself into this awkward dilemma.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, my dear sir,</q> whispered the Parson, +mildly, as he inclined his lips to the Doctor's +ear, <q>I should then have lost the opportunity of +inculcating a moral lesson—you understand.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Riccabocca shrugged his shoulders, restored +his pipe to his mouth, and took a long +whiff. It was a whiff eloquent, though cynical—a +whiff peculiar to your philosophical smoker—a +whiff that implied the most absolute but the +most placid incredulity as to the effect of the +Parson's moral lesson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Still you have not given us your decision,</q> +said the Parson, after a pause. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor withdrew the pipe. <q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Cospetto!</foreign></q> +<pb n='666'/><anchor id='Pg666'/> +said he. <q>He who scrubs the head of an ass +wastes his soap.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If you scrubbed mine fifty times over with +those enigmatical proverbs of yours,</q> said the +Parson, testily, <q>you would not make it any the +wiser.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My good sir,</q> said the Doctor, bowing low +from his perch on the stile, <q>I never presumed +to say that there were more asses than one in +the story; but I thought that I could not better +explain my meaning, which is simply this—you +scrubbed the ass's head, and therefore you must +lose the soap. Let the <foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>fanciullo</foreign> have the +sixpence; and a great sum it is, too, for a little +boy, who may spend it all upon pocket-money!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>There, Lenny—you hear?</q> said the Parson, +stretching out the sixpence. But Lenny retreated, +and cast on the umpire a look of great aversion +and disgust. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Please, Master Dale,</q> said he, obstinately, +<q>I'd rather not.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is a matter of feeling, you see,</q> said the +Parson, turning to the umpire; <q>and I believe +the boy is right.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>If it is a matter of feeling,</q> replied Dr. +Riccabocca, <q>there is no more to be said on it. +When Feeling comes in at the door, Reason has +nothing to do but to jump out of the window.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Go, my good boy,</q> said the Parson, pocketing +the coin; <q>but stop! give me your hand +first. <emph>There</emph>—I understand you—good-by!</q> +</p> + +<p> +Lenny's eyes glistened as the Parson shook +him by the hand, and, not trusting himself to +speak, he walked off sturdily. The Parson wiped +his forehead, and sat himself down on the stile +beside the Italian. The view before them was +lovely, and both enjoyed it (though not equally) +enough to be silent for some moments. On the +other side the lane, seen between gaps in the old +oaks and chestnuts that hung over the moss-grown +pales of Hazeldean Park, rose gentle +verdant slopes, dotted with sheep and herds of +deer; a stately avenue stretched far away to the +left, and ended at the right hand, within a few +yards of a ha-ha that divided the park from +a level sward of table-land gay with shrubs +and flower-plots, relieved by the shade of two +mighty cedars. And on this platform, only seen +in part, stood the squire's old-fashioned house, +red brick, with stone mullions, gable-ends, and +quaint chimney-pots. On this side the road, immediately +facing the two gentlemen, cottage +after cottage whitely emerged from the curves +in the lane, while, beyond, the ground declining +gave an extensive prospect of woods and cornfields, +spires and farms. Behind, from a belt +of lilacs and evergreens, you caught a peep of +the parsonage-house, backed by woodlands, and +a little noisy rill running in front. The birds +were still in the hedgerows, only as if from the +very heart of the most distant woods, there came +now and then the mellow note of the cuckoo. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Verily,</q> said Mr. Dale softly, <q>my lot has +fallen on a goodly heritage.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Italian twitched his cloak over him, and +sighed almost inaudibly. Perhaps he thought +of his own Summer Land, and felt that amidst +all that fresh verdure of the North, there was no +heritage for the stranger. +</p> + +<p> +However, before the Parson could notice the +sigh or conjecture the cause, Dr. Riccabocca's +thin lips took an expression almost malignant. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Per Bacco!</foreign></q> said he; <q>in every country +I find that the rooks settle where the trees are the +finest. I am sure that, when Noah first landed +on Ararat, he must have found some gentleman +in black already settled in the pleasantest part +of the mountain, and waiting for his tenth of the +cattle as they came out of the ark.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson turned his meek eyes to the philosopher, +and there was in them something so +deprecating rather than reproachful, that Dr. +Riccabocca turned away his face, and refilled +his pipe. Dr. Riccabocca abhorred priests; but +though Parson Dale was emphatically a parson, +he seemed at that moment so little of what Dr. +Riccabocca understood by a priest, that the +Italian's heart smote him for his irreverent jest +on the cloth. Luckily at this moment there +was a diversion to that untoward commencement +of conversation, in the appearance of no +less a personage than the donkey himself—I +mean the donkey who ate the apple. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter VI.</head> + +<p> +The Tinker was a stout swarthy fellow, +jovial and musical withal, for he was singing a +stave as he flourished his staff, and at the end +of each <emph>refrain</emph> down came the staff on the +quarters of the donkey. The tinker went behind +and sung, the donkey went before and was +thwacked. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yours is a droll country,</q> quoth Dr. Riccabocca; +<q>in mine it is not the ass that walks +first in the procession, who gets the blows.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The Parson jumped from the stile, and, looking +over the hedge that divided the field from +the road—<q>Gently, gently,</q> said he; <q>the sound +of the stick spoils the singing! O Mr. Sprott, +Mr. Sprott! a good man is merciful to his +beast.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The donkey seemed to recognize the voice +of its friend, for it stopped short, pricked one +ear wistfully, and looked up. +</p> + +<p> +The Tinker touched his hat, and looked up +too. <q>Lord bless your reverence! he does not +mind it, he likes it. I vould not hurt thee; +vould I, Neddy?</q> +</p> + +<p> +The donkey shook his head and shivered; +perhaps a fly had settled on the sore, which the +chestnut leaves no longer protected. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am sure you did not mean to hurt him, +Sprott,</q> said the Parson, more politely, I fear, +<pb n='667'/><anchor id='Pg667'/> +than honesty—for he had seen enough of that +cross-grained thing called the human heart, +even in the little world of a country parish, to +know that it requires management, and coaxing, +and flattering, to interfere successfully +between a man and his own donkey—<q>I am +sure you did not mean to hurt him; but he has +already got a sore on his shoulder as big as my +hand, poor thing!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Lord love 'un! yes; that vas done a playing +with the manger, the day I gave 'un oats!</q> +said the Tinker. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Riccabocca adjusted his spectacles, and +surveyed the ass. The ass pricked up his other +ear, and surveyed Dr. Riccabocca. In that +mutual survey of physical qualifications, each +being regarded according to the average symmetry +of its species, it may be doubted whether +the advantage was on the side of the philosopher. +</p> + +<p> +The Parson had a great notion of the wisdom +of his friend, in all matters not immediately +ecclesiastical. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Say a good word for the donkey!</q> whispered +he. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Sir,</q> said the Doctor, addressing Mr. Sprott, +with a respectful salutation, <q>there's a great +kettle at my house—the Casino—which wants +soldering: can you recommend me a Tinker?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, that's all in my line,</q> said Sprott, +<q>and there ben't a Tinker in the country that I +vould recommend like myself, thof I say it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You jest, good sir,</q> said the Doctor, smiling +pleasantly. <q>A man who can't mend a hole in +his own donkey, can never demean himself by +patching up my great kettle.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Lord, sir!</q> said the Tinker, archly, <q>if I +had known that poor Neddy had had two sitch +friends in court, I'd have seen he was a gintleman, +and treated him as sitch.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Corpo di Bacco</foreign>.</q> quoth the Doctor, +<q>though that jest's not new, I think the Tinker comes +very well out of it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>True; but the donkey!</q> said the Parson, +<q>I've a great mind to buy it.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Permit me to tell you an anecdote in point,</q> +said Dr. Riccabocca. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well?</q> said the Parson, interrogatively. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Once in a time,</q> pursued Riccabocca, <q>the +Emperor Adrian, going to the public baths, +saw an old soldier, who had served under him, +rubbing his back against the marble wall. The +emperor, who was a wise, and therefore a curious, +inquisitive man, sent for the soldier, and +asked him why he resorted to that sort of friction. +<q>Because,</q> answered the veteran, <q>I am +too poor to have slaves to rub me down.</q> The +emperor was touched, and gave him slaves and +money. The next day, when Adrian went to +the baths, all the old men in the city were to be +seen rubbing themselves against the marble as +hard as they could. The emperor sent for them, +and asked them the same question which he had +put to the soldier; the cunning old rogues, of +course, made the same answer. <q>Friends,</q> said +Adrian, <q>since there are so many of you, you +will just rub one another!</q> Mr. Dale, if you +don't want to have all the donkeys in the county +with holes in their shoulders, you had better not +buy the Tinker's!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is the hardest thing in the world to do the +least bit of good,</q> groaned the Parson, as he +broke a twig off the hedge nervously, snapped it +in two, and flung the fragments on the road—one +of them hit the donkey on the nose. If the +ass could have spoken Latin, he would have +said, <q><foreign rend='italic'>Et tu, Brute!</foreign></q> As it was, he hung +down his ears, and walked on. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Gee hup,</q> said the Tinker, and he followed +the ass. Then stopping, he looked over his +shoulder, and seeing that the Parson's eyes +were gazing mournfully on his <foreign rend='italic'>protégé</foreign>, <q>Never +fear, your reverence,</q> cried the Tinker kindly; +<q>I'll not spite 'un.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter VII.</head> + +<p> +<q>Four o'clock,</q> cried the Parson, looking at +his watch; <q>half-an-hour after dinner-time, and +Mrs. Dale particularly begged me to be punctual, +because of the fine trout the Squire sent +us. Will you venture on what our homely language +calls <q>pot luck,</q> Doctor?</q> +</p> + +<p> +Now Riccabocca, like most wise men, especially +if Italians, was by no means inclined to +the credulous view of human nature. Indeed, +he was in the habit of detecting self-interest in +the simplest actions of his fellow-creatures. +And when the Parson thus invited him to pot +luck, he smiled with a kind of lofty complacency; +for Mrs. Dale enjoyed the reputation of having +what her friends styled <q>her little tempers.</q> +And, as well-bred ladies rarely indulge <q>little +tempers</q> in the presence of a third person, not +of the family, so Dr. Riccabocca instantly concluded +that he was invited to stand between the +pot and the luck! Nevertheless—as he was +fond of trout, and a much more good-natured +man than he ought to have been according to +his principles—he accepted the hospitality; but +he did so with a sly look from over his spectacles, +which brought a blush into the guilty +cheeks of the Parson. Certainly Riccabocca +had for once guessed right in his estimate of +human motives. +</p> + +<p> +The two walked on, crossed a little bridge +that spanned the rill, and entered the parsonage +lawn. Two dogs, that seemed to have sate on +watch for their master, sprung toward him +barking; and the sound drew the notice of Mrs. +Dale, who, with parasol in hand, sallied out +from the sash window which opened on the +lawn. Now, O reader! I know that in thy secret +heart, thou art chuckling over the want of +knowledge in the sacred arcana of the domestic +<pb n='668'/><anchor id='Pg668'/> +hearth, betrayed by the author; thou art saying +to thyself, <q>A pretty way to conciliate little +tempers indeed, to add to the offense of spoiling +the fish the crime of bringing an unexpected +friend to eat it. Pot luck, quotha, when the +pot's boiled over this half hour!</q> +</p> + +<p> +But, to thy utter shame and confusion, O +reader, learn that both the author and Parson +Dale knew very well what they were about. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Riccabocca was the special favorite of +Mrs. Dale, and the only person in the whole +country who never put her out, by dropping in. +In fact, strange though it may seem at first +glance, Dr. Riccabocca had that mysterious +something about him which we of his own sex +can so little comprehend, but which always propitiates +the other. He owed this, in part, to his +own profound but hypocritical policy; for he +looked upon woman as the natural enemy to +man—against whom it was necessary to be always +on the guard; whom it was prudent to +disarm by every species of fawning servility and +abject complaisance. He owed it also, in part, +to the compassionate and heavenly nature of the +angels whom his thoughts thus villainously traduced—for +women like one whom they can pity +without despising; and there was something in +Signor Riccabocca's poverty, in his loneliness, +in his exile, whether voluntary or compelled, +that excited pity; while, despite the threadbare +coat, the red umbrella, and the wild hair, he +had, especially when addressing ladies, that air +of gentleman and cavalier which is or was more +innate in an educated Italian, of whatever rank, +than perhaps in the highest aristocracy of another +country in Europe. For, though I grant +that nothing is more exquisite than the politeness +of your French marquis of the old <foreign rend='italic'>régime</foreign>—nothing +more frankly gracious than the cordial +address of a highbred English gentleman—nothing +more kindly prepossessing than the genial +good-nature of some patriarchal German, who +will condescend to forget his sixteen quarterings +in the pleasure of doing you a favor—yet +these specimens of the suavity of their several +nations are rare; whereas blandness and polish +are common attributes with your Italian. They +seem to have been immemorially handed down +to him, from ancestors emulating the urbanity +of Cæsar, and refined by the grace of +Horace. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Dr. Riccabocca consents to dine with us,</q> +cried the Parson, hastily. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If madame permit?</q> said the Italian, bowing +over the hand extended to him, which, however, +he forebore to take, seeing it was already +full of the watch. +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am only sorry that the trout must be quite +spoiled,</q> began Mrs. Dale, plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is not the trout one thinks of when one +dines with Mrs. Dale,</q> said the infamous dissimulator. +</p> + +<p> +<q>But I see James coming to say that dinner +is ready?</q> observed the Parson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>He said <emph>that</emph> three quarters of an hour ago, +Charles dear,</q> retorted Mrs. Dale, taking the +arm of Dr. Riccabocca. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter VIII.</head> + +<p> +While the Parson and his wife are entertaining +their guest, I propose to regale the reader +with a small treatise apropos of that <q>Charles +dear,</q> murmured by Mrs. Dale;—a treatise expressly +written for the benefit of <hi rend='smallcaps'>The Domestic +Circle</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +It is an old jest that there is not a word in the +language that conveys so little endearment as +the word <q>dear.</q> But though the saying itself, +like most truths, be trite and hackneyed, +no little novelty remains to the search of the +inquirer into the varieties of inimical import +comprehended in that malign monosyllable. For +instance, I submit to the experienced that the +degree of hostility it betrays is in much proportioned +to its collocation in the sentence. When, +gliding indirectly through the rest of the period, +it takes its stand at the close, as in that <q>Charles +dear</q> of Mrs. Dale—it has spilt so much of its +natural bitterness by the way that it assumes +even a smile, <q>amara lento temperet risu.</q> +Sometimes the smile is plaintive, sometimes +arch. <hi rend='italic'>Ex. gr.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +(<hi rend='italic'>Plaintive</hi>.) +</p> + +<p> +<q>I know very well that whatever I do is +wrong, Charles dear.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Nay, I am only glad you amused yourself +so much without me, Charles dear.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not quite so loud! If you had, but my poor +head, Charles dear,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +(<hi rend='italic'>Arch</hi>.) +</p> + +<p> +<q>If you <emph>could</emph> spill the ink any where but on +the best table-cloth, Charles dear!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But though you must always have your own +way, you are not <emph>quite faultless</emph>, own, Charles +dear,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +In this collocation occur many dears, parental +as well as conjugal; as—<q>Hold up your head +and don't look quite so cross, dear.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Be a good boy for once in your life—that's +a dear,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +When the enemy stops in the middle of the +sentence, its venom is naturally less exhausted. +<hi rend='italic'>Ex. gr.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Really, I must say, Charles dear, that you +are the most fidgety person,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +<q>And if the house bills were so high last +week, Charles dear, I should just like to know +whose fault it was—that's all.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Do you think, Charles dear, that you could put +your feet any where except upon the chintz sofa?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But you know, Charles dear, that you care +no more for me and the children than,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +But if the fatal word spring up, in its primitive +<pb n='669'/><anchor id='Pg669'/> +freshness, at the head of the sentence, bow +your head to the storm. It then assumes the +majesty of <q>my</q> before it; is generally more +than simple objurgation—it prefaces a sermon. +My candor obliges me to confess that this is the +mode in which the hateful monosyllable is more +usually employed by the marital part of the one +flesh; and has something about it of the odious +assumption of the Petruchian <foreign rend='italic'>pater-familias</foreign>—the +head of the family—boding, not perhaps +<q>peace, and love, and quiet life,</q> but certainly +<q>awful rule and right supremacy.</q> <hi rend='italic'>Ex. gr.</hi> +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Jane—I wish you would just put +by that everlasting tent-stitch, and listen to me +for a few moments,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Jane—I wish you would understand me for once—don't +think I am angry—no, +but I am hurt. You must consider,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Jane—I don't know if it is your +intention to ruin me; but I only wish you would +do as all other women do who care three straws +for their husbands' property,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My dear Jane—I wish you to understand +that I am the last person in the world to be +jealous; but I'll be d—d if that puppy, Captain +Prettyman,</q> &c. +</p> + +<p> +Now, if that same <q>dear</q> could be thoroughly +raked and hoed out of the connubial +garden, I don't think that the remaining nettles +would signify a button. But even as it was, +Parson Dale, good man, would have prized his +garden beyond all the bowers which Spenser +and Tasso have sung so musically, though there +had not been a single specimen of <q>dear,</q> +whether the dear <foreign rend='italic'>humilis</foreign>, or the +dear <foreign rend='italic'>superba</foreign>, +the dear <foreign rend='italic'>pallida</foreign>, +<foreign rend='italic'>rubra</foreign>, or +<foreign rend='italic'>nigra</foreign>; the dear <foreign rend='italic'>umbrosa</foreign>, +<foreign rend='italic'>florens</foreign>, +<foreign rend='italic'>spicata</foreign>; the +dear <foreign rend='italic'>savis</foreign>, or the +dear <foreign rend='italic'>horrida</foreign>; no, not a single dear in the whole +horticulture of matrimony which Mrs. Dale had +not brought to perfection; but this, fortunately, +was far from being the case. The <emph>dears</emph> of Mrs. +Dale were only wild flowers, after all. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<head>Chapter IX.</head> + +<p> +In the cool of the evening, Dr. Riccabocca +walked home across the fields. Mr. and Mrs. +Dale had accompanied him half way; and as +they now turned back to the Parsonage, they +looked behind, to catch a glimpse of the tall, +outlandish figure, winding slowly through the +path amidst the waves of the green corn. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Poor man!</q> said Mrs. Dale, feelingly; +<q>and the button was off his wristband! What +a pity he has nobody to take care of him! He +seems very domestic. Don't you think, Charles, +it would be a great blessing if we could get +him a good wife?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Um,</q> said the Parson; <q>I doubt if he +values the married state as he ought.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What do you mean, Charles? I never saw +a man more polite to ladies in my life.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, but—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But what? You are always so mysterious, +Charles dear.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Mysterious! No, Carry; but if you could +hear what the Doctor says of the ladies sometimes.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ay, when you men get together, my dear. +I know what that means—pretty things you say +of us. But you are all alike; you know you +are, love!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I am sure,</q> said the Parson, simply, <q>that +I have good cause to speak well of the sex—when +I think of you, and my poor mother.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Dale, who, with all her <q>tempers,</q> was +an excellent woman, and loved her husband +with the whole of her quick little heart, was +touched. She pressed his hand, and did not +call him <emph>dear</emph> all the way home. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the Italian passed the fields, and +came upon the high-road about two miles from +Hazeldean. On one side stood an old-fashioned +solitary inn, such as English inns used to be before +they became railway hotels—square, solid, +old-fashioned, looking so hospitable and comfortable, +with their great signs swinging from some +elm tree in front, and the long row of stables +standing a little back, with a chaise or two in +the yard, and the jolly landlord talking of the +crops to some stout farmer, who has stopped +his rough pony at the well-known door. Opposite +this inn, on the other side the road, stood +the habitation of Dr. Riccabocca. +</p> + +<p> +A few years before the date of these annals, +the stage-coach, on its way to London, from a +seaport town, stopped at the inn, as was its +wont, for a good hour, that its passengers might +dine like Christian Englishmen—not gulp down +a basin of scalding soup, like everlasting heathen +Yankees, with that cursed railway whistle shrieking +like a fiend in their ears! It was the best +dining-place on the whole road, for the trout in +the neighboring rill were famous, and so was +the mutton which came from Hazeldean Park. +</p> + +<p> +From the outside of the coach had descended +two passengers who, alone, insensible to the +attractions of mutton and trout, refused to dine—two +melancholy-looking foreigners, of whom +one was Signor Riccabocca, much the same as +we see him now, only that the black suit, was +less threadbare, the tall form less meagre, and +he did not then wear spectacles; and the other +was his servant. They would walk about +while the coach stopped. Now the Italian's +eye had been caught by a mouldering dismantled +house on the other side the road, which +nevertheless was well situated; half-way up a +green hill, with its aspect due south, a little +cascade falling down artificial rock-work, and +a terrace with a balustrade, and a few broken +urns and statues before its Ionic portico; while +on the roadside stood a board, with characters +already half effaced, implying that the house +<pb n='670'/><anchor id='Pg670'/> +was to be <q>Let unfurnished, with or without +land.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The abode that looked so cheerless, and +which had so evidently hung long on hand, +was the property of Squire Hazeldean. It had +been built by his grandfather on the female +side—a country gentleman who had actually +been in Italy (a journey rare enough to boast +of in those days), and who, on his return home, +had attempted a miniature imitation of an Italian +villa. He left an only daughter and sole heiress, +who married Squire Hazeldean's father; and +since that time, the house, abandoned by its +proprietors for the larger residence of the Hazeldeans, +had been uninhabited and neglected. +Several tenants, indeed, had offered themselves: +but your Squire is slow in admitting upon his +own property a rival neighbor. Some wanted +shooting. <q>That,</q> said the Hazeldeans, who +were great sportsmen and strict preservers, +<q>was quite out of the question.</q> Others were +fine folks from London. <q>London servants,</q> +said the Hazeldeans, who were moral and prudent +people, <q>would corrupt their own, and +bring London prices.</q> Others, again, were +retired manufacturers, at whom the Hazeldeans +turned up their agricultural noses. In short, +some were too grand, and others too vulgar. +Some were refused because they were known +so well: <q>Friends are best at a distance,</q> said +the Hazeldeans. Others because they were not +known at all: <q>No good comes of strangers,</q> +said the Hazeldeans. And finally, as the house +fell more and more into decay, no one would +take it unless it was put into thorough repair: +<q>As if one was made of money!</q> said the +Hazeldeans. In short, there stood the house +unoccupied and ruinous; and there, on its terrace, +stood the two forlorn Italians, surveying +it with a smile at each other, as, for the first +time since they set foot in England, they recognized, +in dilapidated pilasters and broken statues, +in a weed-grown terrace and the remains of an +orangery, something that reminded them of the +land they had left behind. +</p> + +<p> +On returning to the inn, Dr. Riccabocca took +the occasion of learning from the innkeeper +(who was indeed a tenant of the Squire's) such +particulars as he could collect; and a few days +afterward Mr. Hazeldean received a letter from +a solicitor of repute in London, stating that a +very respectable foreign gentleman had commissioned +him to treat for Clump Lodge, otherwise +called the <q>Casino;</q> that the said gentleman +did not shoot—lived in great seclusion—and, +having no family, did not care about the +repairs of the place, provided only it were made +weather-proof—if the omission of more expensive +reparations could render the rent suitable +to his finances, which were very limited. The +offer came at a fortunate moment—when the +steward had just been representing to the +Squire the necessity of doing something to keep +the Casino from falling into positive ruin, and +the Squire was cursing the fates which had put +the Casino into an entail—so that he could not +pull it down for the building materials. Mr. +Hazeldean therefore caught at the proposal even +as a fair lady, who has refused the best offers +in the kingdom, catches at last at some battered +old captain on half-pay, and replied that, as for +rent, if the solicitor's client was a quiet respectable +man, he did not care for that. But that +the gentleman might have it for the first year +rent free, on condition of paying the taxes and +putting the place a little in order. If they +suited each other, they could then come to +terms. Ten days subsequently to this gracious +reply, Signor Riccabocca and his servant arrived; +and, before the year's end, the Squire +was so contented with his tenant that he gave +him a running lease of seven, fourteen, or +twenty-one years, at a rent nearly nominal, on +condition that Signor Riccabocca would put and +maintain the place in repair, barring the roof +and fences, which the Squire generously renewed +at his own expense. It was astonishing, +by little and little, what a pretty place the +Italian had made of it, and what is more astonishing, +how little it had cost him. He had indeed +painted the walls of the hall, staircase, +and the rooms appropriated to himself, with his +own hands. His servant had done the greater +part of the upholstery. The two between them +had got the garden into order. The Italians +seemed to have taken a joint love to the place, +and to deck it as they would have done some +favorite chapel to their Madonna. +</p> + +<p> +It was long before the natives reconciled +themselves to the odd ways of the foreign settlers—the +first thing that offended them was +the exceeding smallness of the household bills. +Three days out of the seven, indeed, both man and +master dined on nothing else but the vegetables +in the garden, and the fishes in the neighboring +rill; when no trout could be caught they fried +the minnows (and certainly, even in the best +streams, minnows are more frequently caught +than trouts). The next thing which angered +the natives quite as much, especially the female +part of the neighborhood, was the very sparing +employment the two he creatures gave to the +sex usually deemed so indispensable in household +matters. At first indeed, they had no +woman servant at all. But this created such +horror that Parson Dale ventured a hint upon +the matter, which Riccabocca took in very good +part, and an old woman was forthwith engaged, +after some bargaining—at three shillings a +week—to wash and scrub as much as she liked +during the daytime. She always returned to +her own cottage to sleep. The man-servant, +who was styled in the neighborhood <q>Jackeymo,</q> +did all else for his master—smoothed his +<pb n='671'/><anchor id='Pg671'/> +room, dusted his papers, prepared his coffee, +cooked his dinner, brushed his clothes, and +cleaned his pipes, of which Riccabocca had a +large collection. But, however close a man's +character, it generally creeps out in driblets; +and on many little occasions the Italian had +shown acts of kindness, and, on some more rare +occasions, even of generosity, which had served +to silence his calumniators, and by degrees he +had established a very fair reputation—suspected, +it is true, of being a little inclined to the Black +Art, and of a strange inclination to starve +Jackeymo and himself—in other respects harmless +enough. +</p> + +<p> +Signor Riccabocca had become very intimate, +as we have seen, at the Parsonage. But not so +at the Hall. For though the Squire was inclined +to be very friendly to all his neighbors—he was, +like most country gentlemen, rather easily <emph>huffed</emph>. +Riccabocca had, if with great politeness, still +with great obstinacy, refused Mr. Hazeldean's +earlier invitations to dinner, and when the Squire +found, that the Italian rarely declined to dine at +the Parsonage, he was offended in one of his +weak points, viz., his regard for the honor of +the hospitality of Hazeldean Hall—and he ceased +altogether invitations so churlishly rejected. +Nevertheless, as it was impossible for the Squire, +however huffed, to bear malice, he now and then +reminded Riccabocca of his existence by presents +of game, and would have called on him more +often than he did, but that Riccabocca received +him with such excessive politeness that the blunt +country gentleman felt shy and put out, and used +to say that <q>to call on Riccabocca was as bad +as going to court.</q> +</p> + +<p> +But I left Dr. Riccabocca on the high-road. +By this time he has ascended a narrow path +that winds by the side of the cascade, he has +passed a trellis-work covered with vines, from +the which Jackeymo has positively succeeded +in making what he calls <emph>wine</emph>—a liquid, indeed, +that, if the cholera had been popularly known in +those days, would have soured the mildest member +of the Board of Health; for Squire Hazeldean, +though a robust man who daily carried +off his bottle of port with impunity, having once +rashly tasted it, did not recover the effect till he +had had a bill from the apothecary as long as +his own arm. Passing this trellis, Dr. Riccabocca +entered upon the terrace, with its stone +pavement smoothed and trim as hands could +make it. Here, on neat stands, all his favorite +flowers were arranged. Here four orange trees +were in full blossom; here a kind of summer-house +or Belvidere, built by Jackeymo and himself, +made his chosen morning room from May +till October; and from this Belvidere there was +as beautiful an expanse of prospect as if our +English Nature had hospitably spread on her +green board all that she had to offer as a banquet +to the exile. +</p> + +<p> +A man without his coat, which was thrown over +the balustrade, was employed in watering the +flowers; a man with movements so mechanical—with +a face so rigidly grave in its tawny hues—that +he seemed like an automaton made out +of mahogany. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Giacomo,</q> said Dr. Riccabocca, softly. +</p> + +<p> +The automaton stopped its hand, and turned +its head. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Put by the watering-pot, and come here,</q> +continued Riccabocca in Italian; and, moving +toward the balustrade, he leaned over it. Mr. +Mitford, the historian, calls Jean Jacques <q><hi rend='italic'>John +James</hi>.</q> Following that illustrious example, +Giacomo shall be Anglified into Jackeymo. +Jackeymo came to the balustrade also, and stood +a little behind his master. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Friend,</q> said Riccabocca, <q>enterprises have +not always succeeded with us. Don't you think, +after all, it is tempting our evil star to rent those +fields from the landlord?</q> Jackeymo crossed +himself, and made some strange movement with +a little coral charm which he wore set in a ring +on his finger. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If the Madonna send us luck, and we could +hire a lad cheap?</q> said Jackeymo, doubtfully. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Piu vale un presente che due futuri</foreign>,</q> +said Riccabocca. <q>A bird in the hand is worth two +in the bush.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Chi non fa quondo può, non può fare quondo +vuole</foreign></q>—(<q>He who will not when he may, when +he will it shall have nay</q>)—answered Jackeymo, +as sententiously as his master. <q>And the Padrone +should think in time that he must lay by for the +dower of the poor signorina</q>—(young lady). +</p> + +<p> +Riccabocca sighed, and made no reply. +</p> + +<p> +<q>She must be <emph>that</emph> high now!</q> said Jackeymo, +putting his hand on some imaginary line a +little above the balustrade. Riccabocca's eyes, +raised over the spectacles, followed the hand. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If the Padrone could but see her here—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I thought I did!</q> muttered the Italian. +</p> + +<p> +<q>He would never let her go from his side +till she went to a husband's,</q> continued Jackeymo. +</p> + +<p> +<q>But this climate—she could never stand it,</q> +said Riccabocca, drawing his cloak round him, +as a north wind took him in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The orange trees blossom even here with +care,</q> said Jackeymo, turning back to draw +down an awning where the orange trees faced +the north. <q>See!</q> he added, as he returned +with a sprig in full bud. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Riccabocca bent over the blossom, and +then placed it in his bosom. +</p> + +<p> +<q>The <emph>other</emph> one should be there, too,</q> said +Jackeymo. +</p> + +<p> +<q>To die—as this does already!</q> answered +Riccabocca. <q>Say no more.</q> +</p> + +<p> +Jackeymo shrugged his shoulders; and then, +glancing at his master, drew his hand over his +eyes. +</p> + +<pb n='672'/><anchor id='Pg672'/> + +<p> +There was a pause. Jackeymo was the first +to break it. +</p> + +<p> +<q>But, whether here or there, beauty without +money is the orange tree without shelter. If a +lad could be got cheap, I would hire the land, +and trust for the crop to the Madonna.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I think I know of such a lad,</q> said Riccabocca, +recovering himself, and with his sardonic +smile once more lurking about the corner of his +mouth—<q>a lad made for us!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Diavolo!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, not the Diavolo! Friend, I have this +day seen a boy who—refused sixpence!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='it' rend='italic'>Cosa stupenda!</foreign></q>—(Stupendous +thing!) exclaimed Jackeymo, opening his eyes, and letting +fall the water-pot. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is true, my friend.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Take him, Padrone, in Heaven's name, and +the fields will grow gold.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I will think of it, for it must require management +to catch such a boy,</q> said Riccabocca. +<q>Meanwhile, light a candle in the parlor, and +bring from my bedroom—that great folio of +Machiavelli.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Two Guides Of The Child. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +A spirit near me said, <q>Look forth upon +the Land of Life. What do you see?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Steep mountains, covered by a mighty +plain, a table-land of many-colored beauty. +Beauty, nay, it seems all beautiful at first, but +now I see that there are some parts barren.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Are they quite barren?—look more closely +still!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, in the wildest deserts, now, I see some +gum-dropping acacias, and the crimson blossom +of the cactus. But there are regions that rejoice +abundantly in flower and fruit; and now, +O Spirit, I see men and women moving to and +fro.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Observe them, mortal.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I behold a world of love; the men have +women's arms entwined about them; some +upon the verge of precipices—friends are running +to the rescue. There are many wandering +like strangers, who know not their road, +and they look upward. Spirit, how many, many +eyes are looking up as if to God! Ah, now I +see some strike their neighbors down into the +dust; I see some wallowing like swine; I see +that there are men and women brutal.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Are they quite brutal—look more closely +still.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No, I see prickly sorrow growing out of +crime, and penitence awakened by a look of +love. I see good gifts bestowed out of the +hand of murder, and see truth issue out of lying +lips. But in this plain, O Spirit, I see regions—wide, +bright regions—yielding fruit and flower, +while others seem perpetually vailed with +fogs, and in them no fruit ripens. I see pleasant +regions where the rock is full of clefts, and people +fall into them. The men who dwell beneath +the fog deal lovingly, and yet they have small +enjoyment in the world around them, which +they scarcely see. But whither are these +women going?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Follow them.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>I have followed down the mountains to a +haven in the vale below. All that is lovely in +the world of flowers makes a fragrant bed for +the dear children; birds singing, they breathe +upon the pleasant air; the butterflies play with +them. Their limbs shine white among the +blossoms, and their mothers come down full of +joy to share their innocent delight. They pelt +each other with the lilies of the valley. They +call up at will fantastic masks, grim giants +play to make them merry, a thousand grotesque +loving phantoms kiss them; to each the mother +is the one thing real, the highest bliss—the +next bliss is the dream of all the world beside. +Some that are motherless, all mother's love. +Every gesture, every look, every odor, every +song, adds to the charm of love which fills the +valley. Some little figures fall and die, and on +the valley's soil they crumble into violets and +lilies, with love-tears to hang in them like dew.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Who dares to come down with a frown into +this happy valley? A severe man seizes an +unhappy, shrieking child, and leads it to the +roughest ascent of the mountain. He will lead +it over steep rocks to the plain of the mature. +On ugly needle-points he makes the child sit +down, and teaches it its duty in the world +above.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Its duty, mortal! Do you listen to the +teacher?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Spirit, I hear now. The child is informed +about two languages spoken by nations extinct +centuries ago, and something also, O Spirit, +about the base of an hypothenuse.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Does the child attend?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not much; but it is beaten silly, and its +knees are bruised against the rocks, till it is +hauled up, woe-begone and weary, to the upper +plain. It looks about bewildered; all is strange—it +knows not how to act. Fogs crown the +barren mountain paths. Spirit, I am unhappy; +there are many children thus hauled up, and as +young men upon the plain; they walk in fog, +or among brambles; some fall into pits; and +many, getting into flower-paths, lie down and +learn. Some become active, seeking right, but +ignorant of what right is; they wander among +men out of their fog-land, preaching folly. Let +me go back among the children.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Have they no better guide?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, now there comes one with a smiling +face, and rolls upon the flowers with the little +ones, and they are drawn to him. And he has +magic spells to conjure up glorious spectacles +of fairy land. He frolics with them, and might +be first cousin to the butterflies. He wreathes +their little heads with flower garlands, and with +his fairy land upon his lips he walks toward +the mountains; eagerly they follow. He seeks +the smoothest upward path, and that is but a +<pb n='673'/><anchor id='Pg673'/> +rough one, yet they run up merrily, guide and +children, butterflies pursuing still the flowers as +they nod over a host of laughing faces. They +talk of the delightful fairy world, and resting in +the shady places learn of the yet more delightful +world of God. They learn to love the +Maker of the Flowers, to know how great the +Father of the Stars must be, how good must be +the Father of the Beetle. They listen to the +story of the race they go to labor with upon the +plain, and love it for the labor it has done. +They learn old languages of men, to understand +the past—more eagerly they learn the voices of +the men of their own day, that they may take +part with the present. And in their study when +they flag, they fall back upon thoughts of the +Child Valley they are leaving. Sports and +fancies are the rod and spur that bring them +with new vigor to the lessons. When they +reach the plain they cry, <q>We know you, men +and women; we know to what you have aspired +for centuries; we know the love there is in +you; we know the love there is in God; we +come prepared to labor with you, dear, good +friends. We will not call you clumsy when we +see you tumble, we will try to pick you up; +when we fall, you shall pick us up. We have +been trained to love, and therefore we can aid +you heartily, for love is labor!</q></q> +</p> + +<p> +The Spirit whispered, <q>You have seen and +you have heard. Go now, and speak unto your +fellow-men: ask justice for the child.</q> +</p> + +<p> +To-day should love To-morrow, for it is a +thing of hope; let the young Future not be +nursed by Care. God gave not fancy to the +child that men should stamp its blossoms down +into the loose soil of intellect. The child's +heart was not made full to the brim of love, +that men should pour its love away, and bruise +instead of kiss the trusting innocent. Love and +fancy are the stems on which we may graft +knowledge readily. What is called by some +dry folks a solid foundation may be a thing not +desirable. To cut down all the trees, and root +up all the flowers in a garden, to cover walks +and flower-beds alike with a hard crust of well-rolled +gravel, that would be to lay down your +solid foundation after a plan which some think +good in a child's mind, though not quite worth +adopting in a garden. O, teacher, love the child +and learn of it; so let it love and learn of you. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Laboratory In The Chest. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +The mind of Mr. Bagges was decidedly +affected—beneficially—by the lecture on +the Chemistry of a Candle, which, as set forth +in a previous number of this journal, had been +delivered to him by his youthful nephew. That +learned discourse inspired him with a new feeling; +an interest in matters of science. He +began to frequent the Polytechnic Institution, +nearly as much as his club. He also took to +lounging at the British Museum; where he +was often to be seen, with his left arm under +his coat-tails, examining the wonderful works +of nature and antiquity, through his eye-glass. +Moreover, he procured himself to be elected +a member of the Royal Institution, which became +a regular house of call to him, so that +in a short time he grew to be one of the ordinary +phenomena of the place. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Bagges likewise adopted a custom of +giving <foreign rend='italic'>conversaziones,</foreign> which, however, were +always very private and select—generally confined +to his sister's family. Three courses +were first discussed; then dessert; after which, +surrounded by an apparatus of glasses and +decanters, Master Harry Wilkinson was called +upon, as a sort of juvenile Davy, to amuse his +uncle by the elucidation of some chemical or +other physical mystery. Master Wilkinson had +now attained to the ability of making experiments; +most of which, involving combustion, +were strongly deprecated by the young gentleman's +mamma; but her opposition was overruled +by Mr. Bagges, who argued that it was +much better that a young dog should burn +phosphorus before your face than let off gunpowder +behind your back, to say nothing of +occasionally pinning a cracker to your skirts. +He maintained that playing with fire and water, +throwing stones, and such like boys' tricks, as +they are commonly called, are the first expressions +of a scientific tendency—endeavors and +efforts of the infant mind to acquaint itself with +the powers of Nature. +</p> + +<p> +His own favorite toys, he remembered, were +squibs, suckers, squirts, and slings; and he was +persuaded that, by his having been denied them +at school, a natural philosopher had been nipped +in the bud. +</p> + +<p> +Blowing bubbles was an example—by-the-by, +a rather notable one—by which Mr. Bagges, +on one of his scientific evenings, was instancing +the affinity of child's play to philosophical +experiments, when he bethought him Harry +had said on a former occasion that the human +breath consists chiefly of carbonic acid, which +is heavier than common air. How then, it +occurred to his inquiring, though elderly mind, +was it that soap-bladders, blown from a tobacco-pipe, +rose instead of sinking? He asked +his nephew this. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, uncle!</q> answered Harry, <q>in the first +place, the air you blow bubbles with mostly +comes in at the nose and goes out at the +mouth, without having been breathed at all. +Then it is warmed by the mouth, and warmth, +you know, makes a measure of air get larger, +and so lighter in proportion. A soap-bubble +rises for the same reason that a fire-balloon rises—that +is, because the air inside of it has been +heated, and weighs less than the same sized +bubbleful of cold air.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>What, hot breath does!</q> said Mr. Bagges. +<q>Well, now, it's a curious thing, when you +come to think of it, that the breath should be +hot—indeed, the warmth of the body generally +seems a puzzle. It is wonderful, too, how the +bodily heat can be kept up so long as it is. +<pb n='674'/><anchor id='Pg674'/> +Here, now, is this tumbler of hot grog—a +mixture of boiling water, and what d'ye call +it, you scientific geniuses?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alcohol, uncle.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Alcohol—well—or, as we used to say, +brandy. Now, if I leave this tumbler of brandy-and-water +alone—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><emph>If</emph> you do, uncle,</q> interposed his nephew, +archly. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Get along, you idle rogue! If I let that +tumbler stand there, in a few minutes the +brandy-and-water—eh?—I beg pardon—the +alcohol-and-water—gets cold. Now, why—why +the deuce—if the brand—the alcohol-and-water +cools; why—how—how is it we don't +cool in the same way, I want to know? eh?</q> +demanded Mr. Bagges, with the air of a man +who feels satisfied that he has propounded a +<q>regular poser.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why,</q> replied Harry, <q>for the same reason +that the room keeps warm so long as there +is a fire in the grate.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You don't mean to say that I have a fire +in my body?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I do, though.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Eh, now? That's good,</q> said Mr. Bagges. +<q>That reminds me of the man in love crying, +<q>Fire! fire!</q> and the lady said, <q>Where, +where?</q> And he called out, <q>Here! here!</q> +with his hand upon his heart. Eh?—but now +I think of it—you said, the other day, that +breathing was a sort of burning. Do you +mean to tell me that I—eh?—have fire, fire, +as the lover said, here, here—in short, that +my chest is a grate or an Arnott's stove?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not exactly so, uncle. But I do mean to +tell you that you have a sort of fire burning +partly in your chest; but also, more or less, +throughout your whole body.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, Henry!</q> exclaimed Mrs. Wilkinson, +<q>How can you say such horrid things!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Because they're quite true, mamma—but +you needn't be frightened. The fire of one's +body is not hotter than from ninety degrees to +one hundred and four degrees or so. Still it +is fire, and will burn some things, as you would +find, uncle, if, in using phosphorus, you were +to let a little bit of it get under your nail.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I'll take your word for the fact, my boy,</q> +said Mr. Bagges. <q>But, if I have a fire burning +throughout my person—which I was not +aware of, the only inflammation I am ever +troubled with being in the great toe—I say, +if my body is burning continually—how is it I +don't smoke—eh? Come, now?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Perhaps you consume your own smoke,</q> +suggested Mr. Wilkinson, senior, <q>like every +well-regulated furnace.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You smoke nothing but your pipe, uncle, +because you burn all your carbon,</q> said Harry. +<q>But, if your body doesn't smoke, it steams. +Breathe against a looking-glass, or look at +your breath on a cold morning. Observe how +a horse reeks when it perspires. Besides—as +you just now said you recollected my telling +you the other day—you breathe out carbonic +acid, and that, and the steam of the breath +together, are exactly the same things, you +know, that a candle turns into in burning.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But if I burn like a candle—why don't I +burn <emph>out</emph> like a candle?</q> demanded Mr. Bagges. +<q>How do you get over that?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Because,</q> replied Harry, <q>your fuel is renewed +as fast as burnt. So perhaps you resemble +a lamp rather than a candle. A lamp +requires to be fed; so does the body—as, possibly, +uncle, you may be aware.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Eh?—well—I have always entertained an +idea of that sort,</q> answered Mr. Bagges, helping +himself to some biscuits. <q>But the lamp +feeds on train-oil.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>So does the Laplander. And you couldn't +feed the lamp on turtle or mulligatawny, of +course, uncle. But mulligatawny or turtle can +be changed into fat—they are so, sometimes, I +think—when they are eaten in large quantities, +and fat will burn fast enough. And most of +what you eat turns into something which burns +at last, and is consumed in the fire that warms +you all over.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Wonderful, to be sure,</q> exclaimed Mr. +Bagges. <q>Well, now, and how does this extraordinary +process take place?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>First, you know, uncle, your food is digested—</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not always, I am sorry to say, my boy,</q> +Mr. Bagges observed, <q>but go on.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well; when it <emph>is</emph> digested, it becomes a +sort of fluid, and mixes gradually with the +blood, and turns into blood, and so goes over +the whole body, to nourish it. Now, if the +body is always being nourished, why doesn't it +keep getting bigger and bigger, like the ghost +in the Castle of Otranto?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Eh? Why, because it loses as well as +gains, I suppose. By perspiration—eh—for +instance?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, and by breathing; in short, by the +burning I mentioned just now. Respiration, or +breathing, uncle, is a perpetual combustion.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>But if my system,</q> said Mr. Bagges, <q>is +burning throughout, what keeps up the fire in +my little finger—putting gout out of the question?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>You burn all over, because you breathe all +over, to the very tips of your fingers' ends,</q> +replied Harry. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oh, don't talk nonsense to your uncle!</q> +exclaimed Mrs. Wilkinson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It isn't nonsense,</q> said Harry. <q>The air +that you draw into the lungs goes more or less +over all the body, and penetrates into every +fibre of it, which is breathing. Perhaps you +would like to hear a little more about the chemistry +of breathing, or respiration, uncle?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I should, certainly.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, then; first you ought to have some +idea of the breathing apparatus. The laboratory +that contains this is the chest, you know. +The chest, you also know, has in it the heart +and lungs, which, with other things in it, fill it +quite out, so as to leave no hollow space between +<pb n='675'/><anchor id='Pg675'/> +themselves and it. The lungs are a sort +of air-sponges, and when you enlarge your +chest to draw breath, they swell out with it, +and suck the air in. On the other hand, you +narrow your chest, and squeeze the lungs, and +press the air from them;—that is breathing out. +The lungs are made up of a lot of little cells. +A small pipe—a little branch of the windpipe—opens +into each cell. Two blood-vessels, a little +tiny artery, and a vein to match, run into it +also. The arteries bring into the little cells +dark-colored blood, which <emph>has been</emph> all over the +body. The veins carry out of the little cells +bright scarlet-colored blood, which <emph>is to go</emph> all +over the body. So all the blood passes through +the lungs, and in so doing, is changed from +dark to bright scarlet.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Black blood, didn't you say, in the arteries, +and scarlet in the veins? I thought it was just +the reverse,</q> interrupted Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q>So it is,</q> replied Harry, <q>with all the +other arteries and veins, except those that circulate +the blood through the lung-cells. The +heart has two sides, with a partition between +them that keeps the blood on the right side +separate from the blood on the left; both sides +being hollow, mind. The blood on the right +side of the heart comes there from all over the +body, by a couple of large veins, dark, before it +goes to the lungs. From the right side of the +heart, it goes on to the lungs, dark still, through +an artery. It comes back to the left side of the +heart from the lungs, bright scarlet, through +four veins. Then it goes all over the rest of +the body from the left side of the heart, through +an artery that branches into smaller arteries, all +carrying bright scarlet blood. So the arteries +and veins of the lungs on one hand, and of the +rest of the body on the other, do exactly opposite +work, you understand.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I hope so.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Now,</q> continued Harry, <q>it requires a +strong magnifying glass to see the lung-cells +plainly, they are so small. But you can fancy +them as big as you please. Picture any one of +them to yourself of the size of an orange, say, +for convenience in thinking about it; that one +cell, with whatever takes place in it, will be a +specimen of the rest. Then you have to imagine +an artery carrying blood of one color into it, and +a vein taking away blood of another color from +it, and the blood changing its color in the cell.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ay, but what makes the blood change its +color?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Recollect, uncle, you have a little branch +from the windpipe opening into the cell which +lets in the air. Then the blood and the air are +brought together, and the blood alters in color. +The reason, I suppose you would guess, is that +it is somehow altered by the air.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>No very unreasonable conjecture, I should +think,</q> said Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well; if the air alters the blood, most likely, +we should think, it gives something to the +blood. So first let us see what is the difference +between the air we breathe <emph>in</emph>, and the air we +breathe <emph>out</emph>. You know that neither we nor +animals can keep breathing the same air over +and over again. You don't want me to remind +you of the Black Hole of Calcutta, to convince +you of that; and I dare say you will believe +what I tell you, without waiting till I can catch +a mouse and shut it up in an air-tight jar, and +show you how soon the unlucky creature will +get uncomfortable, and began to gasp, and that +it will by-and-by die. But if we were to try +this experiment—not having the fear of the Society +for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, +nor the fear of doing wrong, before our eyes—we +should find that the poor mouse, before he +died, had changed the air of his prison considerably. +But it would be just as satisfactory, and +much more humane, if you or I were to breathe +in and out of a silk bag or a bladder till we could +stand it no longer, and then collect the air which +we had been breathing in and out. We should +find that a jar of such air would put out a candle. +If we shook some lime-water up with it, +the lime-water would turn milky. In short, +uncle, we should find that a great part of the +air was carbonic acid, and the rest mostly nitrogen. +The air we inhale is nitrogen and +oxygen; the air we exhale has lost most of its +oxygen, and consists of little more than nitrogen +and carbonic acid. Together with this, we +breathe out the vapor of water, as I said before. +Therefore in breathing, we give off exactly what +a candle does in burning, only not so fast, after +the rate. The carbonic acid we breathe out, +shows that carbon is consumed within our bodies. +The watery vapor of the breath is a proof that +hydrogen is so, too. We take in oxygen with +the air, and the oxygen unites with carbon, and +makes carbonic acid, and with hydrogen, forms +water.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then don't the hydrogen and carbon combine +with the oxygen—that is, burn—in the +lungs, and isn't the chest the fire-place, after +all?</q> asked Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Not altogether, according to those who are +supposed to know better. They are of opinion, +that some of the oxygen unites with the carbon +and hydrogen of the blood in the lungs: but +that most of it is merely absorbed by the blood, +and dissolved in it in the first instance.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Oxygen, absorbed by the blood? That +seems odd,</q> remarked Mr. Bagges. <q>How +can that be?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>We only know the fact that there are some +things that will absorb gases—suck them in—make +them disappear. Charcoal will, for instance. +It is thought that the iron which the +blood contains gives it the curious property of +absorbing oxygen. Well; the oxygen going +into the blood makes it change from dark to +bright scarlet; and then this blood containing +oxygen is conveyed all over the system by the +arteries, and yields up the oxygen to combine +with hydrogen and carbon as it goes along. +The carbon and hydrogen are part of the substance +of the body. The bright scarlet blood +mixes oxygen with them, which burns them, in +<pb n='676'/><anchor id='Pg676'/> +fact; that is, makes them into carbonic acid and +water. Of course, the body would soon be consumed +if this were all that the blood does. But +while it mixes oxygen with the old substance of +the body, to burn it up, it lays down fresh material +to replace the loss. So our bodies are +continually changing throughout, though they +seem to us always the same; but then, you +know, a river appears the same from year's end +to year's end, although the water in it is different +every day.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Eh, then,</q> said Mr. Bagges, <q>if the body +is always on the change in this way, we must +have had several bodies in the course of our +lives, by the time we are old.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Yes, uncle; therefore, how foolish it is to +spend money upon funerals. What becomes of +all the bodies we use up during our life-times? +If we are none the worse for their flying away +in carbonic acid and other things without ceremony, +what good can we expect from having a +fuss made about the body we leave behind us, +which is put into the earth? However, you +are wanting to know what becomes of the water +and carbonic acid which have been made by the +oxygen of the blood burning up the old materials +of our frame. The dark blood of the veins absorbs +this carbonic acid and water, as the blood +of the arteries does oxygen—only, they say, it +does so by means of a salt in it, called phosphate +of soda. Then the dark blood goes back to the +lungs, and in them it parts with its carbonic acid +and water, which escapes as breath. As fast as +we breathe out, carbonic acid and water leave +the blood; as fast as we breathe in, oxygen enters +it. The oxygen is sent out in the arteries +to make the rubbish of the body into gas and +vapor, so that the veins may bring it back and +get rid of it. The burning of rubbish by oxygen +throughout our frames is the fire by which our +animal heat, is kept up. At least this is what +most philosophers think; though doctors differ +a little on this point, as on most others, I hear. +Professor Liebig says, that our carbon is mostly +prepared for burning by being first extracted +from the blood sent to it—(which contains much +of the rubbish of the system dissolved)—in the +form of bile, and is then re-absorbed into the +blood, and burnt. He reckons that a grown-up +man consumes about fourteen ounces of carbon +a day. Fourteen ounces of charcoal a day, or +eight pounds two ounces a week, would keep +up a tolerable fire.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I had no idea we were such extensive charcoal-burners,</q> +said Mr. Bagges. <q>They say +we each eat our peck of dirt before we die—but +we must burn bushels of charcoal.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>And so,</q> continued Harry, <q>the professor +calculates that we burn quite enough fuel to +account for our heat. I should rather think, +myself, it had something to do with it—shouldn't +you?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Eh?</q> said Mr. Bagges; <q>it makes one +rather nervous to think that one is burning all +over—throughout one's very blood—in this kind +of way.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is very awful!</q> said Mrs. Wilkinson. +</p> + +<p> +<q>If true. But in that case, shouldn't we be +liable to inflame occasionally?</q> objected her husband. +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is said,</q> answered Harry, <q>that spontaneous +combustion does happen sometimes; particularly +in great spirit drinkers. I don't see +why it should not, if the system were to become +too inflammable. Drinking alcohol would be +likely to load the constitution with carbon, which +would be fuel for the fire, at any rate.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The deuce!</q> exclaimed Mr. Bagges, pushing +his brandy-and-water from him. <q>We had +better take care how we indulge in combustibles.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>At all events,</q> said Harry, <q>it must be bad +to have too much fuel in us. It must choke the +fire, I should think, if it did not cause inflammation; +which Dr. Truepenny says it does, meaning, +by inflammation, gout, and so on, you know, +uncle.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ahem!</q> coughed Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Taking in too much fuel, I dare say, you +know, uncle, means eating and drinking to excess,</q> +continued Harry. <q>The best remedy, +the doctor says, for overstuffing is exercise. A +person who uses great bodily exertion, can eat +and drink more without suffering from it than +one who leads an inactive life; a fox-hunter, +for instance, in comparison with an alderman. +Want of exercise and too much nourishment +must make a man either fat or ill. If the extra +hydrogen and carbon are not burnt out, or otherwise +got rid of, they turn to blubber, or cause +some disturbance in the system, intended by +Nature to throw them off, which is called a disease. +Walking, riding, running, increase the +breathing—as well as the perspiration—and +make us burn away our carbon and hydrogen +in proportion. Dr. Truepenny declares that if +people would only take in as much fuel as is +requisite to keep up a good fire, his profession +would be ruined.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>The good old advice—Baillie's, eh?—or +Abernethy's—live upon sixpence a day, and earn +it,</q> Mr. Bagges observed. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well, and then, uncle, in hot weather the +appetite is naturally weaker than it is in cold—less +heat is required, and therefore less food. So +in hot climates; and the chief reason, says the +doctor, why people ruin their health in India is +their spurring and goading their stomachs to +crave what is not good for them, by spices and +the like. Fruits and vegetables are the proper +things to eat in such countries, because they +contain little carbon compared to flesh, and they +are the diet of the natives of those parts of the +world. Whereas food with much carbon in it, +meat, or even mere fat or oil, which is hardly +any thing else than carbon and hydrogen, are +proper in very cold regions, where heat from +within is required to supply the want of it without. +That is why the Laplander is able, as I +said he does, to devour train-oil. And Dr. Truepenny +says that it may be all very well for Mr. +M'Gregor to drink raw whisky at deer-stalking +<pb n='677'/><anchor id='Pg677'/> +in the Highlands, but if Major Campbell combines +that beverage with the diversion of tiger-hunting +in the East Indies, habitually, the chances +are that the major will come home with a diseased +liver.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Upon my word, sir, the whole art of preserving +health appears to consist in keeping up +a moderate fire within us,</q> observed Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q>Just so, uncle, according to my friend the +doctor. <q>Adjust the fuel,</q> he says, <q>to the +draught</q>—he means the oxygen; <q>keep the +bellows properly at work, by exercise, and your +fire will seldom want poking.</q> The doctor's +pokers, you know, are pills, mixtures, leeches, +blisters, lancets, and things of that sort.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Indeed? Well, then, my heart-burn, I suppose, +depends upon bad management of my +fire?</q> surmised Mr. Bagges. +</p> + +<p> +<q rend='pre'>I should say that was more than probable, +uncle. Well, now, I think you see that animal +heat can be accounted for, in very great part at +least, by the combustion of the body. And then +there are several facts that—as I remember +Shakspeare says—</q> +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l rend='margin-left: 2'><q rend='pre'><q rend='pre'>Help +to thicken other proofs,</q></q></l> +<l><q rend='post'>That do demonstrate thinly.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +<q>Birds that breathe a great deal are very hot +creatures; snakes and lizards, and frogs and +fishes, that breathe but little, are so cold that +they are called cold-blooded animals. Bears +and dormice, that sleep all the winter, are cold +during their sleep, while their breathing and +circulation almost entirely stop. We increase +our heat by walking fast, running, jumping, or +working hard; which sets us breathing faster, +and then we get warmer. By these means, we +blow up our own fire, if we have no other, to +warm ourselves on a cold day. And how is it +that we don't go on continually getting hotter +and hotter?</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Ah!</q> exclaimed Mr. Bagges, <q>I suppose +that is one of Nature's mysteries.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why, what happens, uncle, when we take +violent exercise? We break out into a perspiration; +as you complain you always do, if +you only run a few yards. Perspiration is +mostly water, and the extra heat of the body +goes into the water, and flies away with it in +steam. Just for the same reason, you can't +boil water so as to make it hotter than two +hundred and twelve degrees; because all the +heat that passes into it beyond that, unites with +some of it and becomes steam, and so escapes. +Hot weather causes you to perspire even when +you sit still; and so your heat is cooled in summer. +If you were to heat a man in an oven, +the heat of his body generally wouldn't increase +very much till he became exhausted and died. +Stories are told of mountebanks sitting in ovens, +and meat being cooked by the side of them. +Philosophers have done much the same thing—Dr. +Fordyce and others, who found they could +bear a heat of two hundred and sixty degrees. +Perspiration is our animal fire-escape. Heat +goes out from the lungs, as well as the skin, in +water; so the lungs are concerned in cooling +us as well as heating us, like a sort of regulating +furnace. Ah, uncle, the body is a wonderful +factory, and I wish I were man enough +to take you over it. I have only tried to show +you something of the contrivances for warming +it, and I hope you understand a little about +that!</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Well,</q> said Mr. Bagges, <q>breathing, I +understand you to say, is the chief source of +animal heat, by occasioning the combination of +carbon and hydrogen with oxygen, in a sort of +gentle combustion, throughout our frame. The +lungs and heart are an apparatus for generating +heat, and distributing it over the body by means +of a kind of warming pipes, called blood-vessels. +Eh?—and the carbon and hydrogen we have in +our systems we get from our food. Now, you +see, here is a slice of cake, and there is a glass +of wine—Eh?—now see whether you can get +any carbon and oxygen out of that.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The young philosopher, having finished his +lecture, applied himself immediately to the performance +of the proposed experiment, which he +performed with cleverness and dispatch. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Steel Pen. +An Illustration Of Cheapness. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<p> +We remember (early remembrances are more +durable than recent) an epithet employed +by Mary Wolstonecroft, which then seemed as +happy as it was original—<q>The <emph>iron</emph> pen of +Time.</q> Had the vindicatress of the <q>Rights +of Women</q> lived in these days (fifty years later), +when the iron pen is the almost universal instrument +of writing, she would have bestowed upon +Time a less common material for recording his +doings. +</p> + +<p> +While we are remembering, let us look back +for a moment upon our earliest school-days—the +days of large text and round hand. Twenty +urchins sit at a long desk, each intent upon +making his <emph>copy</emph>. A nicely mended pen has +been given to each. Our own labor goes on +successfully, till, in school-boy phrase, the pen +begins to splutter. A bold effort must be made. +We leave the form, and timidly address the +writing-master with—<q>Please, sir, mend my +pen.</q> A slight frown subsides as he sees that +the quill is very bad—too soft or too hard—used +to the stump. He dashes it away, and snatching +a feather from a bundle—a poor thin feather, +such as green geese drop on a common—shapes +it into a pen. This mending and making process +occupies all his leisure—occupies, indeed, +many of the minutes that ought to be devoted +to instruction. He has a perpetual battle to +wage with his bad quills. They are the meanest +produce of the plucked goose. +</p> + +<p> +And is this process still going on in the many +thousand schools of our land, where with all +drawbacks of imperfect education, both as to +numbers educated and gifts imparted, there are +about two millions and a half of children under +daily instruction? In remote rural districts +<pb n='678'/><anchor id='Pg678'/> +probably; in the towns certainly not. The +steam-engine is now the pen-maker. Hecatombs +of geese are consumed at Michaelmas +and Christmas; but not all the geese in the +world would meet the demand of England for +pens. The supply of <foreign lang='fr' rend='italic'>patés de foie gras</foreign> will be +kept up—that of quills, whether known as +<emph>primes</emph>, <emph>seconds</emph>, or +<emph>pinions,</emph> must be wholly inadequate +to the wants of a <emph>writing</emph> people. +Wherever geese are bred in these islands, so +assuredly, in each succeeding March, will every +full-fledged victim be robbed of his quills; and +then turned forth on the common, a very waddling +and impotent goose, quite unworthy of +the name of bird. The country schoolmaster, +at the same spring-time, will continue to buy +the smallest quills, at a low price, clarify them +after his own rude fashion, make them into pens, +and sorely spite the boy who splits them up too +rapidly. The better quills will still be collected, +and find their way to the quill dealer, who +will exercise his empirical arts before they pass +to the stationer. He will plunge them into +heated sand, to make the external skin peel off, +and the external membrane shrivel up; or he +will saturate them with water, and alternately +contract and swell them before a charcoal fire; +or he will dip them in nitric acid, and make +them of a gaudy brilliancy but a treacherous +endurance. They will be sorted according to +the quality of the barrels, with the utmost nicety. +The experienced buyer will know their value +by looking at their feathery ends, tapering to a +point; the uninitiated will regard only the quill +portion. There is no article of commerce in +which the market value is so difficult to be determined +with exactness. For the finest and +largest quills no price seems unreasonable; for +those of the second quality too exorbitant a +charge is often made. The foreign supply is +large, and probably exceeds the home supply +of the superior article. What the exact amount +is we know not. There is no duty now on quills. +The tariff of 1845—one of the most lasting +monuments of the wisdom of our great commercial +minister—abolished the duty of half-a-crown +a thousand. In 1832 the duty amounted to four +thousand two hundred pounds, which would show +an annual importation of thirty-three millions one +hundred thousand quills; enough, perhaps, for +the commercial clerks of England, together with +the quills of home growth—but how to serve a +letter-writing population? +</p> + +<p> +The ancient reign of the quill-pen was first +seriously disturbed about twenty-five years ago. +An abortive imitation of the <emph>form</emph> of a pen was +produced before that time; a clumsy, inelastic, +metal tube fastened in a bone or ivory handle, +and sold for half-a-crown. A man might make +his mark with one—but as to writing, it was a +mere delusion. In due course came more carefully +finished inventions for the luxurious, under +the tempting names of ruby pen, or diamond pen—with +the plain gold pen, and the rhodium pen, +for those who were skeptical as to the jewelry +of the inkstand. The economical use of the +quill received also the attention of science. A +machine was invented to divide the barrel +lengthwise into two halves; and, by the same +mechanical means, these halves were subdivided +into small pieces, cut pen-shape, slit, and +nibbed. But the pressure upon the quill supply +grew more and more intense. A new +power had risen up in our world—a new seed +sown—the source of all good, or the dragon's +teeth of Cadmus. In 1818 there were only +one hundred and sixty-five thousand scholars in +the monitorial schools—the new schools, which +were being established under the auspices of the +National Society, and the British and Foreign +School Society. Fifteen years afterward, in +1833, there were three hundred and ninety +thousand. Ten years later, the numbers exceeded +a million. Even a quarter of a century +ago two-thirds of the male population of England, +and one-half of the female, were learning +to write; for in the Report of the Registrar-General +for 1846, we find this passage—<q>Persons +when they are married are required to sign +the marriage register; if they can not write +their names, they sign with a mark: the result +has hitherto been, that nearly one man in three, +and one woman in two, married, sign with marks.</q> +This remark applies to the period between 1839 +and 1845. Taking the average age of men at +marriage as twenty-seven years, and the average +age of boys during their education as ten +years, the marriage-register is an educational +test of male instruction for the years 1824-28. +But the gross number of the population of England +and Wales was rapidly advancing. In +1821 it was twelve millions; in 1831, fourteen +millions; in 1841, sixteen millions; in 1851, +taking the rate of increase at fourteen per cent., +it will be eighteen millions and a half. The +extension of education was proceeding in a +much quicker ratio; and we may therefore +fairly assume that the proportion of those who +make their marks in the marriage-register has +greatly diminished since 1844. +</p> + +<p> +But, during the last ten years, the natural +desire to learn to write, of that part of the +youthful population which education can reach, +has received a great moral impulse by a wondrous +development of the most useful and pleasurable +exercise of that power. The uniform +penny postage has been established. In the +year 1838, the whole number of letters delivered +in the United Kingdom was seventy-six +millions; in this year that annual delivery has +reached the prodigious number of three hundred +and thirty-seven millions. In 1838, a Committee +of the House of Commons thus denounced, +among the great commercial evils of the high +rates of postage, their injurious effects upon the +great bulk of the people. They either act as +a grievous tax on the poor, causing them to +sacrifice their little earnings to the pleasure and +advantage of corresponding with their distant +friends, or compel them to forego such intercourse +altogether; thus subtracting from the +small amount of their enjoyments, and obstructing +<pb n='679'/><anchor id='Pg679'/> +the growth and maintenance of their best +affections. Honored be the man who broke +down these barriers! Praised be the Government +that, <emph>for once</emph>, stepping out of its fiscal +tram-way, dared boldly to legislate for the +domestic happiness, the educational progress, +and the moral elevation of the masses! The +steel pen, sold at the rate of a penny a dozen, +is the creation, in a considerable degree, of the +Penny Postage stamp; as the Penny Postage +stamp was a representative, if not a creation, +of the new educational power. Without the +steel pen, it may reasonably be doubted whether +there were mechanical means within the reach +of the great bulk of the population for writing +the three hundred and thirty-seven millions of +letters that now annually pass through the Post +Office. +</p> + +<p> +Othello's sword had <q>the ice-brook's temper;</q> +but not all the real or imaginary virtues +of the stream that gave its value to the true +Spanish blade could create the elasticity of a +steel pen. Flexible, indeed, is the Toledo. If +thrust against a wall, it will bend into an arc +that describes three-fourths of a circle. The +problem to be solved in the steel-pen, is to convert +the iron of Dannemora into a substance as +thin as the quill of a dove's pinion, but as strong +as the proudest feather of an eagle's wing. +The furnaces and hammers of the old armorers +could never have solved this problem. The +steel pen belongs to our age of mighty machinery. +It could not have existed in any other +age. The demand for the instrument, and the +means of supplying it, came together. +</p> + +<p> +The commercial importance of the steel pen +was first manifested to our senses a year or two +ago at Sheffield. We had witnessed all the +curious processes of <emph>converting</emph> iron into steel, +by saturating it with carbon in the converting +furnace; of <emph>tilting</emph> the bars so converted into a +harder substance, under the thousand hammers +that shake the waters of the Sheaf and the Don: +of <emph>casting</emph> the steel thus converted and tilted +into ingots of higher purity; and, finally, of +<emph>milling</emph>, by which the most perfect development +of the material is acquired, under enormous +rollers. About two miles from the metropolis +of steel, over whose head hangs a canopy of +smoke through which the broad moors of the +distance sometimes reveal themselves, there is a +solitary mill where the tilting and rolling processes +are carried to great perfection. The din +of the large tilts is heard half a mile off. Our +ears tingle, our legs tremble, when we stand +close to their operation of beating bars of steel +into the greatest possible density; for the whole +building vibrates as the workmen swing before +them in suspended baskets, and shift the +bar at every movement of these hammers of the +Titans. We pass onward to the more quiet +<emph>rolling</emph> department. The bar that has been +tilted into the most perfect compactness, has +now to acquire the utmost possible tenuity. A +large area is occupied by furnaces and rollers. +The bar of steel is dragged out of the furnace +at almost a white heat. There are two men at +each roller. It is passed through the first pair, +and its squareness is instantly elongated and +widened into flatness; rapidly through a second +pair, and a third, and a fourth, and a fifth. The +bar is becoming a sheet of steel. Thinner and +thinner it becomes, until it would seem that the +workmen can scarcely manage the fragile substance. +It has spread out like a morsel of gold +under the beater's hammer, into an enormous +leaf. The least attenuated sheet is only the +hundredth part of an inch in thickness; some +sheets are made as thin as the two-hundredth +part of an inch. And for what purpose is this +result of the labors of so many workmen, of such +vast and complicated machinery, destined?—what +the final application of a material employing +so much capital in every step, from the +Swedish mine to its transport by railroad to +some other seat of British industry? <emph>The +whole is prepared for one steel-pen manufactory +at Birmingham.</emph> +</p> + +<p> +There is nothing very remarkable in a steel-pen +manufactory, as regards ingenuity of contrivance +or factory organization. Upon a large +scale of production, the extent of labor engaged +in producing so minute an article, is necessarily +striking. But the process is just as curious and +interesting, if conducted in a small shop as in a +large. The pure steel, as it comes from the +rolling-mill, is cut up into strips about two +inches and a half in width. These are further +cut into the proper size for the pen. The +pieces are then annealed and cleansed. The +maker's name is neatly impressed on the metal; +and a cutting-tool forms the slit, although imperfectly +in this stage. The pen shape is given +by a convex punch pressing the plate into a +concave die. The pen is formed when the slit +is perfected. It has now to be hardened, and, +finally, cleansed and polished, by the simple +agency of friction in a cylinder. All the varieties +of form of the steel pen are produced by +the punch; all the contrivances of slits and +apertures above the nib, by the cutting-tool. +Every improvement has had for its object to +overcome the rigidity of the steel—to imitate +the elasticity of the quill, while bestowing upon +the pen a superior durability. +</p> + +<p> +The perfection that may reasonably be demanded +in a steel pen has yet to be reached. +But the improvement in the manufacture is +most decided. Twenty years ago, to one who +might choose, regardless of expense, between +the quill pen and the steel, the best Birmingham +and London production was an abomination. +But we can trace the gradual acquiescence +of most men in the writing implement of +the multitude. Few of us, in an age when the +small economies are carefully observed, and +even paraded, desire to use quill pens at ten or +twelve shillings a hundred, as Treasury Clerks +once luxuriated in their use—an hour's work, +and then a new one. To mend a pen, is troublesome +to the old, and even the middle-aged +man who once acquired the art; the young, for +<pb n='680'/><anchor id='Pg680'/> +the most part, have not learned it. The most +painstaking and penurious author would never +dream of imitating the wondrous man who +translated Pliny with <q>one gray goose quill.</q> +Steel pens are so cheap, that if one scratches or +splutters, it may be thrown away, and another +may be tried. But when a really good one is +found, we cling to it, as worldly men cling to their +friends: we use it till it breaks down, or grows +rusty. We can do no more; we handle it as +Izaak Walton handled the frog upon his hook, +<q>as if we loved him.</q> We could almost fancy +some analogy between the gradual and decided +improvement of the steel pen—one of the new +instruments of education—and the effects of +education itself upon the mass of the people. +An instructed nation ought to present the same +gradually perfecting combination of strength with +elasticity. The favorites of fortune are like the +quill, ready made for social purposes, with a +little scraping and polishing. The bulk of the +community have to be formed out of ruder +and tougher materials—to be converted, welded, +and tempered into pliancy. The <emph>manners</emph> of +the great British family have decidedly improved +under culture—<q><hi rend='italic'>emollit mores</hi>:</q> may +the sturdy self-respect of the race never be +impaired! +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Snakes And Serpent Charmers. +(From Bentley's Miscellany.)</head> + +<p> +At the present time there are at the London +Zoological Gardens two Arabs, who are +eminently skilled in what is termed <q>Snake-Charming.</q> +In this country, happily for ourselves, +we have but little practical acquaintance +with venomous serpents, and there is no scope +for the development of native skill in the art +referred to; the visit, therefore, of these strangers +is interesting, as affording an opportunity of +beholding feats which have hitherto been known +to us only by description. We propose, therefore, +to give some account of their proceedings. +</p> + +<p> +Visitors to the Zoological Gardens will remark, +on the right hand side, after they have +passed through the tunnel, and ascended the +slope beyond, a neat wooden building in the +Swiss style. This is the reptile-house, and +while our readers are bending their steps +toward it, we will describe the performance of +the Serpent Charmers. +</p> + +<p> +The names of these are Jubar-Abou-Haijab, +and Mohammed-Abou-Merwan. The former is +an old man, much distinguished in his native +country for his skill. When the French occupied +Egypt, he collected serpents for their +naturalists, and was sent for to Cairo to perform +before General Bonaparte. He described to us +the general, as a middle-sized man, very pale, +with handsome features, and a most keen eye. +Napoleon watched his proceedings with great +interest, made many inquiries, and dismissed +him with a handsome <q>backsheesh.</q> Jubar +is usually dressed in a coarse loose bernoose +of brown serge, with a red cap on his head. +</p> + +<p> +The gift, or craft, of serpent-charming, descends +in certain families from generation to +generation; and Mohammed, a smart active +lad, is the old man's son-in-law, although not +numbering sixteen years. He is quite an +Adonis as to dress, wearing a smart, richly +embroidered dark-green jacket, carried—hussar +fashion—over his right shoulder, a white loose +vest, full white trowsers, tied at the knee, scarlet +stockings and slippers, and a fez or red cap, +with a blue tassel of extra proportions on his +head. In his right ear is a ring, so large that +it might pass for a curtain ring. +</p> + +<p> +Precisely as the clock strikes four, one of the +keepers places on a platform a wooden box containing +the serpents, and the lad Mohammed +proceeds to tuck his ample sleeves as far up as +possible, to leave the arms bare. He then takes +off his cloth jacket, and, opening the box, draws +out a large Cobra de Capello, of a dark copper +color: this he holds at arm's length by the tail, +and after allowing it to writhe about in the air +for some time, he places the serpent on the floor, +still holding it as described. By this time the +cobra had raised his hood, very indignant at the +treatment he is receiving. Mohammed then +pinches and teases him in every way; at each +pinch the cobra strikes at him, but, with great +activity, the blow is avoided. Having thus +teased the snake for some time, Mohammed +rises, and placing his foot upon the tail, irritates +him with a stick. The cobra writhes, and +strikes sometimes at the stick, sometimes at his +tormentor's legs, and again at his hands, all +which is avoided with the utmost nonchalance. +After the lapse of about ten minutes, Mohammed +coils the cobra on the floor, and leaves +him while he goes to the box, and draws out +another far fiercer cobra. While holding this +by the tail, Mohammed buffets him on the head +with his open hand, and the serpent, quite furious, +frequently seizes him by the forearm. +The lad merely wipes the spot, and proceeds to +tie the serpent like a necklace around his neck. +Then the tail is tied into a knot around the reptile's +head, and again head and tail into a double +knot. After amusing himself in this way for +some time, the serpent is told to lie quiet, and +stretched on his back, the neck and chin being +gently stroked. Whether any sort of mesmeric +influence is produced we know not, but the +snake remains on its back, perfectly still, as if +dead. During this time the first cobra has remained +coiled up, with head erect, apparently +watching the proceedings of the Arab. After +a pause, the lad takes up the second cobra, and +carrying it to the first, pinches and irritates +both, to make them fight; the fiercer snake +seizes the other by the throat, and coiling round +him, they roll struggling across the stage. Mohammed +then leaves these serpents in charge of +Jubar and draws a third snake out of the box. +This he first ties in a variety of apparently impossible +knots, and then holding him at a little +distance from his face, allows the snake to strike +at it, just dodging back each time sufficiently +<pb n='681'/><anchor id='Pg681'/> +far to avoid the blow. The serpent is then +placed in his bosom next his skin, and left there, +but it is not so easy after a time to draw it out +of its warm resting-place. The tail is pulled; +but, no! the serpent is round the lad's body, +and will not come. After several unsuccessful +efforts, Mohammed rubs the tail briskly between +his two hands, a process which—judging +from the writhings of the serpent, which are +plainly visible—is the reverse of agreeable. +At last Mohammed pulls him hand-over-hand—as +the sailors say—and, just, as the head flies +out, the cobra makes a parting snap at his tormentor's +face, for which he receives a smart +cuff on the head, and is then with the others +replaced in the box. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. John Davy, in his valuable work on Ceylon, +denies that the fangs are extracted from the +serpents which are thus exhibited; and says +that the only charm employed is that of courage +and confidence—the natives avoiding the stroke +of the serpent with wonderful agility; adding, +that they will play their tricks with any hooded +snake, but with no other poisonous serpent. +</p> + +<p> +In order that we might get at the truth, we +sought it from the fountain-head, and our questions +were thus most freely answered by Jubar-Abou-Haijab, +Hamet acting as interpreter: +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Q.</hi> How are the serpents caught in the first +instance? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> I take this adze (holding up a sort of +geological hammer mounted on a long handle) +and as soon as I have found a hole containing a +cobra, I knock away the earth till he comes +out or can be got at; I then take a stick in my +right hand, and seizing the snake by the tail +with the left, hold it at arm's length. He keeps +trying to bite, but I push his head away with +the stick. After doing this some time I throw +him straight on the ground, still holding him by +the tail; I allow him to raise his head and try +to bite, for some time, in order that he may +learn how to attack, still keeping him off with +the stick. When this has been done long +enough, I slide the stick up to his head and fix +it firmly on the ground; then taking the adze, +and forcing open the mouth, I break off the +fangs with it, carefully removing every portion, +and especially squeezing out all the poison and +blood, which I wipe away as long as it continues +to flow; when this is done the snake is +harmless and ready for use. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Q.</hi> Do the ordinary jugglers, or only the +hereditary snake charmers catch the cobras? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> We are the only persons who dare to +catch them, and when the jugglers want snakes +they come to us for them; with that adze +(pointing to the hammer) I have caught and +taken out the fangs of many thousands. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Q.</hi> Do you use any other snakes besides the +cobras for your exhibitions? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> No; because the cobra is the only one +that will fight well. The cobra is always ready +to give battle, but the other snakes are sluggish, +only bite, and can't be taught for our exhibitions. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Q.</hi> What do the Arabs do if they happen to +be bitten by a poisonous snake? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> They immediately tie a cord tight round +the arm above the wound, and cut out the bitten +part as soon as possible—some burn it; they +then squeeze the arm downward, so as to press +out the poison, but they don't suck it, because +it is bad for the mouth; however, in spite of all +this, they sometimes die. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Q.</hi> Do you think it possible that cobras could +be exhibited without the fangs being removed? +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>A.</hi> Certainly not, for the least scratch of their +deadly teeth would cause death, and there is not +a day that we exhibit that we are not bitten +and no skill in the world would prevent it. +</p> + +<p> +Such were the particulars given us by a most +distinguished professor in the art of snake-charming, +and, therefore, they may be relied on +as correct; the matter-of-fact way in which he +<emph>acted</emph>, as well as related the snake-catching, +bore the impress of truth, and there certainly +would appear to be far less mystery about the +craft than has generally been supposed. The +way in which vipers are caught in this country +is much less artistic than the Arab mode. The +viper-catcher provides himself with a cleftstick, +and stealing up to the reptile when basking, +pins his head to the ground with the cleft, and +seizing the tail, throws the reptile into a bag. +As they do not destroy the fangs, these men are +frequently bitten in the pursuit of their business, +but their remedy is either the fat of vipers, or +salad oil, which they take inwardly, and apply +externally, after squeezing the wound. We are +not aware of any well-authenticated fatal case +in man from a viper bite, but it fell to our lot +some years ago to see a valuable pointer killed +by one. We were beating for game in a dry, +stony district, when suddenly the dog, who was +running beneath a hedgerow, gave a yelp and +bound, and immediately came limping up to us +with a countenance most expressive of pain; a +large adder was seen to glide into the hedgerow. +Two small spots of blood on the inner +side of the left foreleg, close to the body of the +dog marked the seat of the wound; and we did +our best to squeeze out the poison. The limb +speedily began to swell, and the dog laid down, +moaning and unable to walk. With some difficulty +we managed to carry the poor animal to +the nearest cottage, but it was too late. In +spite of oil and other remedies the body swelled +more and more, and he died in convulsions some +two hours after the receipt of the injury. +</p> + +<p> +The Reptile-house is fitted up with much +attention to security and elegance of design; +arranged along the left side are roomy cages +painted to imitate mahogany and fronted with +plate-glass. They are ventilated by perforated +plates of zinc above, and warmed by hot water +pipes below. The bottoms of the cages are +strewed with sand and gravel, and in those which +contain the larger serpents strong branches of +trees are fixed. The advantage of the plate-glass +fronts is obvious, for every movement of +the reptiles is distinctly seen, while its great +<pb n='682'/><anchor id='Pg682'/> +strength confines them in perfect safety. Each +cage is, moreover, provided with a pan of +water. +</p> + +<p> +Except when roused by hunger, the Serpents +are generally in a state of torpor during the day, +but as night draws on, they, in common with +other wild denizens of the forest, are roused +into activity. In their native state the Boas +then lie in wait, coiled round the branches of +trees, ready to spring upon the antelopes and +other prey as they pass through the leafy glades; +and the smaller serpents silently glide from +branch to branch in quest of birds on which to +feed. As we have had the opportunity of seeing +the Reptile-house by night, we will describe the +strange scene. +</p> + +<p> +About ten o'clock one evening during the last +spring, in company with two naturalists of +eminence, we entered that apartment. A small +lantern was our only light, and the faint illumination +of this, imparted a ghastly character to +the scene before us. The clear plate-glass +which faces the cages was invisible, and it was +difficult to believe that the monsters were in +confinement and the spectators secure. Those +who have only seen the Boas and Pythons, the +Rattlesnakes and Cobras, lazily hanging in festoons +from the forks of the trees in the dens, or +sluggishly coiled up, can form no conception of +the appearance and actions of the same creatures +at night. The huge Boas and Pythons were +chasing each other in every direction, whisking +about the dens with the rapidity of lightning, +sometimes clinging in huge coils round the +branches, anon entwining each other in massive +folds, then separating they would rush over and +under the branches, hissing and lashing their +tails in hideous sport. Ever and anon, thirsty +with their exertions, they would approach the +pans containing water and drink eagerly, lapping +it with their forked tongues. As our eyes became +accustomed to the darkness, we perceived +objects better, and on the uppermost branch of +the tree in the den of the biggest serpent, we +perceived a pigeon quietly roosting, apparently +indifferent alike to the turmoil which was going +on around, and the vicinity of the monster whose +meal it was soon to form. In the den of one of +the smaller serpents was a little mouse, whose +panting sides and fast-beating heart showed that +it, at least, disliked its company. Misery is +said to make us acquainted with strange bed-fellows, +but evil must be the star of that mouse +or pigeon whose lot it is to be the comrade and +prey of a serpent! +</p> + +<p> +A singular circumstance occurred not long +since at the Gardens, showing that the mouse +at times has the best of it. A litter of rattlesnakes +was born in the Gardens—curious little +active things without rattles—hiding under +stones, or coiling together in complicated knots, +with their clustering heads resembling Medusa's +locks. It came to pass that a mouse was put +into the cage for the breakfast of the mamma, +but she not being hungry, took no notice. The +poor mouse gradually became accustomed to its +strange companions, and would appear to have +been pressed by hunger, for it actually nibbled +away great part of the jaw of one of the little +rattlesnakes, so that it died! perhaps the first +instance of such a turning of the tables. An +interesting fact was proved by this, namely, that +these reptiles when young are quite defenseless, +and do not acquire either the power of injuring +others, or of using their rattles until their adolescence. +</p> + +<p> +During the time we were looking at these +creatures, all sorts of odd noises were heard; a +strange scratching against the glass would be +audible; 'twas the Carnivorous Lizard endeavoring +to inform us that it was a fast-day with +him, entirely contrary to his inclination. A +sharp hiss would startle us from another quarter, +and we stepped back involuntarily as the lantern +revealed the inflated hood and threatening action +of an angry cobra. Then a rattlesnake would +take umbrage, and, sounding an alarm, would +make a stroke against the glass, intended for +our person. The fixed gaze, too, from the +brilliant eyes of the huge Pythons, was more +fascinating than pleasant, and the scene, taking +it all together, more exciting than agreeable. +Each of the spectators involuntarily stooped to +make sure that his trowsers were well strapped +down; and, as if our nerves were jesting, a +strange sensation would every now and then be +felt, resembling the twining of a small snake +about the legs. Just before leaving the house, +a great dor beetle which had flown in, attracted +by the light, struck with some force against our +right ear; startled indeed we were, for at the +moment our impression was that it was some +member of the Happy Family around us who +had favored us with a mark of his attention. +</p> + +<p> +In feeding the larger serpents, the Boas and +Pythons, some care is necessary lest such an +accident should occur as that which befell Mr. +Cops, of the Lion Office in the Tower, some +years ago. Mr. Cops was holding a fowl to +the head of the largest of the five snakes which +were then there kept; the snake was changing +its skin, consequently, being nearly blind (for +the skin of the eye is changed with the rest), +it darted at the fowl but missed it, and seized +the keeper by the left thumb, coiling round his +arm and neck in a moment, and fixing itself by +its tail to one of the posts of its cage, thus +giving itself greater power. Mr. Cops, who +was alone, did not lose his presence of mind, +and immediately attempted to relieve himself +from the powerful constriction by getting at the +serpent's head; but the serpent had so knotted +itself upon its own head, that Mr. Cops could +not reach it, and had thrown himself upon the +floor in order to grapple, with greater success, +with his formidable opponent, when fortunately, +two other keepers came in and rushed to the +rescue. The struggle even then was severe, +but at length they succeeded in breaking the +teeth of the serpent, and relieving Mr. Cops +from his perilous situation; two broken teeth +were extracted from the thumb; the wounds +<pb n='683'/><anchor id='Pg683'/> +soon healed, and no further inconvenience followed. +Still more severe was the contest which +took place between a negro herdsman, belonging +to Mr. Abson, for many years Governor at +Fort William, on the coast of Africa. This man +was seized by a huge Python while passing +through a wood. The serpent fixed his fangs +in his thigh, but in attempting to throw himself +round his body, fortunately became entangled +with a tree, and the man being thus preserved +from a state of compression which would have +instantly rendered him powerless, had presence +of mind enough to cut with a large knife which +he carried about with him, deep gashes in the +neck and throat of his antagonist, thereby killing +him, and disengaging himself from his +frightful situation. He never afterward, however, +recovered the use of the limb, which had +sustained considerable injury from the fangs and +mere force of the jaws, and for many years +limped about the fort, a living example of the +prowess of these fearful serpents. +</p> + +<p> +The true <emph>Boas</emph>, it is to be observed, are restricted +to America, the name <emph>Python</emph> being given +to the large serpents of Africa and India. It is +related by Pliny that the army of Regulus was +alarmed by a huge serpent one hundred and +twenty-three feet in length. This account is +doubtful; but there is a well-authenticated instance +of the destruction of a snake above sixty-two +feet long, while in the act of coiling itself +round the body of a man. The snakes at the +gardens will generally be found coiled and twined +together in large clusters, probably for the sake +of warmth. Dr. Carpenter knew an instance in +which no less than <emph>thirteen hundred</emph> of our English +harmless snakes were found in an old lime kiln! +The <foreign rend='italic'>battûe</foreign> which ensued can better be imagined +than described. +</p> + +<p> +The cobras, the puff-adders, and some of the +other highly-venomous serpents are principally +found in rocky and sandy places, and very dangerous +they are. Mr. Gould, the eminent ornithologist, +had a most narrow escape of his life +when in the interior of Australia: there is a +serpent found in those arid wastes, whose bite +is fatal in an incredibly short time, and it springs +at an object with great force. Mr. Gould was +a little in advance of his party, when suddenly +a native who was with him screamed out, <q>Oh, +massa! dere big snake!</q> Mr. Gould started, +and putting his foot in a hole, nearly fell to the +ground. At that instant the snake made its +spring, and had it not been for his stumble, +would have struck him in the face; as it was, +it passed over his head, and was shot before it +could do any further mischief. It was a large +snake, of the most venomous sort, and the natives +gathered round the sportsman anxiously inquiring +if it had bitten him? Finding it had not, all said +they thought he was <q>good for dead,</q> when they +saw the reptile spring. +</p> + +<p> +The expression <q>sting,</q> used repeatedly by +Shakspeare, as applied to snakes, is altogether +incorrect; the tongue has nothing to do with +the infliction of injury. Serpents bite, and the +difference between the harmless and venomous +serpents generally is simply this: the mouths +of the harmless snakes and the whole tribe of +boas are provided with sharp teeth, but no +fangs; their bite, therefore, is innocuous; the +poisonous serpents on the other hand, have two +poison-fangs attached to the upper jaw which +lie flat upon the roof of the mouth when not in +use, and are concealed by a fold of the skin. +In each fang is a tube which opens near the +point of the tooth by a fissure; when the creature +is irritated the fangs are at once erected. +The poison bag is placed beneath the muscles +which act on the lower jaw, so that when the +fangs are struck into the victim the poison is +injected with much force to the very bottom of +the wound. +</p> + +<p> +But how do Boa Constrictors swallow goats +and antelopes, and other large animals whole? +The process is very simple; the lower jaw is +not united to the upper, but is hung to a long +stalk-shaped bone, on which it is movable, and +this bone is only attached to the skull by ligaments, +susceptible of extraordinary extension. +The process by which these serpents take and +swallow their prey has been so graphically +described in the second volume of the <q>Zoological +Journal,</q> by that very able naturalist and +graceful writer, W. J. Broderip, Esq., F.R.S., +that we shall transcribe it, being able, from +frequent ocular demonstrations, to vouch for its +correctness. A large buck rabbit was introduced +into the cage of a Boa Constrictor of +great size: <q>The snake was down and motionless +in a moment. There he lay like a log +without one symptom of life, save that which +glared in the small bright eye twinkling in his +depressed head. The rabbit appeared to take +no notice of him, but presently began to walk +about the cage. The snake suddenly, but almost +imperceptibly, turned his head according +to the rabbit's movements, as if to keep the +object within the range of his eye. At length +the rabbit, totally unconscious of his situation, +approached the ambushed head. The snake +dashed at him like lightning. There was a +blow—a scream—and instantly the victim was +locked in the coils of the serpent. This was +done almost too rapidly for the eye to follow; +at one instant the snake was motionless—the +next he was one congeries of coils round his +prey. He had seized the rabbit by the neck +just under the ear, and was evidently exerting +the strongest pressure round the thorax of the +quadruped; thereby preventing the expansion +of the chest, and at the same time depriving +the anterior extremities of motion. The rabbit +never cried after the first seizure; he lay with +his hind legs stretched out, still breathing with +difficulty, as could be seen by the motion of +his flanks. Presently he made one desperate +struggle with his hind legs; but the snake +cautiously applied another coil with such dexterity +as completely to manacle the lower extremities, +and in about eight minutes the rabbit +was quite dead. The snake then gradually and +<pb n='684'/><anchor id='Pg684'/> +carefully uncoiled himself, and finding that his +victim moved not, opened his mouth, let go his +hold, and placed his head opposite the fore-part +of the rabbit. The boa, generally, I have observed, +begins with the head; but in this instance, +the serpent having begun with the fore-legs +was longer in gorging his prey than usual, +and in consequence of the difficulty presented +by the awkward position of the rabbit, the dilatation +and secretion of lubricating mucus were +excessive. The serpent first got the fore-legs +into his mouth; he then coiled himself round +the rabbit, and appeared to draw out the dead +body through his folds; he then began to dilate +his jaws, and holding the rabbit firmly in a +coil, as a point of resistance, appeared to exercise +at intervals the whole of his anterior muscles +in protruding his stretched jaws and lubricated +mouth and throat, at first against, and +soon after gradually upon and over his prey. +When the prey was completely engulfed the +serpent lay for a few moments with his dislocated +jaws still dropping with the mucus which +had lubricated the parts, and at this time he +looked quite sufficiently disgusting. He then +stretched out his neck, and at the same moment +the muscles seemed to push the prey further +downward. After a few efforts to replace the +parts, the jaws appeared much the same as +they did previous to the monstrous repast.</q> +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Magic Maze. +(From Colburn's Monthly Magazine.)</head> + +<p> +The Germans are said to be a philosophical +and sagacious people, with a strong <emph>penchant</emph> +for metaphysics and mysticism. They +are certainly a <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>leichtgläubiges +Volk</foreign>, but, notwithstanding, +painstaking and persevering in +their search after truth. I know not whence it +arises—whether from temperament, climate, or +association—but it is very evident that a large +portion of their studies is recondite and unsatisfactory, +and incapable of being turned to any +practical or beneficial account. They meditate +on things which do not concern them; they +attempt to penetrate into mysteries which lie +without the pale of human knowledge. It has +been ordained, by an inscrutable decree of Providence, +that there are things which man shall +not know; but they have endeavored to draw +aside the vail which He has interposed as a +safeguard to those secrets, and have perplexed +mankind with a relation of their discoveries and +speculations. They have pretended to a knowledge +of the invisible world, and have assumed a +position scarcely tenable by the weight of argument +adduced in its defense. What has puzzled +the minds of the most erudite and persevering +men, I do not presume to decide. Instances +of the re-appearance of persons after +their decease, may or may not have occurred; +there may, for aught I know, be good grounds +for the belief in omens, warnings, wraiths, +second-sight, with many other descriptions of +supernatural phenomena. I attempt not to dispute +the point. The human mind is strongly +tinctured with superstition; it is a feeling common +to all nations and ages. We find it existing +among savages, as well as among people of +refinement; we read of it in times of antiquity, +as well as in modern and more enlightened +periods. This universality betokens the feeling +to be instinctive, and is an argument in favor of +the phenomena which many accredit, and vouch +to have witnessed. +</p> + +<p> +I inherit many of the peculiarities of my +countrymen. I, too, have felt that deep and +absorbing interest in every thing appertaining +to the supernatural. This passion was implanted +in my breast at a very early age, by an +old woman, who lived with us as nurse. I +shall remember her as long as I live, for to her +may be attributed a very great portion of my +sufferings. She was an excellent story-teller. I +do not know whether she invented them herself, +but she had always a plentiful supply. My +family resided at that time in Berlin, where, +indeed, I was born. This old woman, when +she took me and my sister to bed of an evening, +kept us awake for hours and hours, by relating +to us tales which were always interesting, and +sometimes very frightful. Our parents were +not aware of this, or they never would have +suffered her to relate them to us. In the long +winter nights, when it grew quite dark at four +o'clock, she would draw her chair to the stove, +and we would cluster round her, and listen to +her marvelous stories. Many a time did my +limbs shake, many a time did I turn as pale as +death, and cling closely to her from fear, as I +sat listening with greedy ear to her narratives. +So powerful an effect did they produce, that I +dared not remain alone. Even in the broad +day-light, and when the sun was brightly shining +into every chamber, I was afraid to go upstairs +by myself; and so timid did I become, +that the least noise instantly alarmed me. That +old woman brought misery and desolation into +our house; she blasted the fondest hopes, and +threw a dark and dismal shadow over the +brightest and most cheerful places. Often and +often have I wished that she had been sooner +removed; but, alas! it was ordered otherwise. +She pretended to be very fond of us, and our +parents never dreamed of any danger in permitting +her to remain under their roof. We were +so delighted and captivated with her narratives, +that we implicitly obeyed her in every respect; +but she laid strong injunctions upon us, that we +were not to inform either our father or mother +of the nature of them. If we were alarmed at +any time, we always attributed it to some other +than the true cause; hence the injury she was +inflicting upon the family was unperceived. I +have sometimes thought that she was actuated +by a spirit of revenge, for some supposed injury +inflicted upon her, and that she had long contemplated +the misfortune into which she eventually +plunged my unhappy parents, and which +hurried them both to a premature grave. +</p> + +<p> +I will briefly state the cause of the grievous +<pb n='685'/><anchor id='Pg685'/> +change in our domestic happiness. My sister +was a year or two younger than myself, and, at +the time of which I speak, about seven years of +age. She had always been a gay, romping +child, till this old woman was introduced into +the family, and then she became grave, timid, +and reserved; she lost all that buoyancy of disposition, +that joyousness of heart, which were +common to her before. Methinks I now see +her as she was then—a rosy-cheeked, fair-haired +little creature, with soft, blue eyes, that sparkled +with animation, a mouth pursed into the pleasantest +smile, and a nose and chin exquisitely formed. +My sister, as I have already stated, altered much +after the old woman had become an inmate of +the family. She lost the freshness of her complexion, +the bright lustre of her eye, and was +often dejected and thoughtful. One night (I +shudder even now when I think of it), the wicked +old beldame told us, as usual, one of her frightful +stories, which had alarmed us exceedingly. +It related to our own house, which she declared +had at one time been haunted, and that the apparition +had been seen by several persons still +living. It appeared as a lady, habited in a green +silk dress, black velvet bonnet, with black feathers. +After she had concluded her narrative, +under some pretense or other, she left the room, +though we both strenuously implored her to remain; +for we were greatly afraid, and trembling +in every limb. She, however, did not heed our +solicitation, but said she would return in a few +minutes. There was a candle upon the table, +but it was already in the socket, and fast expiring. +Some ten or fifteen minutes elapsed, +and the chamber-door was quietly thrown open. +My hand shakes, and my flesh seems to creep +upon my bones, as I recall that horrid moment +of my past existence. The door was opened, +and a figure glided into the room. It seemed +to move upon the air, for we heard not its footsteps. +By the feeble and sickly light of the expiring +taper, we closely examined the appearance +of our extraordinary visitor. She had on a green +dress, black bonnet and feathers, and, in a word, +precisely corresponded with the appearance of +the apparition described by the wicked old nurse. +My sister screamed hysterically, and I fell into +a swoon. The household was disturbed, and in +a few minutes the servants and our parents were +by the bed-side. The old woman was among +them. I described, as well as I was able, what +had occurred; and my parents, without a moment's +hesitation, laid the mysterious visitation +to the charge of the old woman; but she stoutly +denied it. My belief, however, to this day, is, +that she was concerned in it. My beloved sister +became a confirmed idiot, and died about two +years after that dreadful night. +</p> + +<p> +My subsequent wretchedness may be traced +to this female, for she had already instilled into +my mind a love for the marvelous and supernatural. +I was not satisfied unless I was +reading books that treated of these subjects; +and I desired, like the astrologers of old, to +read the stars, and to be endowed with the +power of casting the horoscopes of my fellow-creatures. +</p> + +<p> +When directed by my guardians to select a +profession, I chose that of medicine, as being +most congenial to my taste. I was accordingly +placed with a respectable practitioner, and in +due time sent to college, to perfect myself in +my profession. I found my studies dry and +wearisome, and was glad to relieve myself with +books more capable of interesting me than those +relating to medical subjects. +</p> + +<p> +I had always attached great importance to +dreams, and to the various coincidences which +so frequently occur to us in life. I shall mention +a circumstance or two which occurred about this +time, and which made a very forcible impression +upon me. I dreamed one night that an intimate +friend of mine, then residing in India, had been +killed by being thrown from his horse. Not +many weeks elapsed, before I received intelligence +of his death, which occurred in the very +way I have described. I was so struck with +the coincidence, that I instituted further inquiry, +and ascertained that he had died on the same +night, and about the same hour on which I had +dreamed that the unfortunate event took place. +I reflected a good deal upon this occurrence. +Was it possible, I asked myself, that his disinthralled +spirit had the power of communicating +with other spirits, though thousands of miles +intervened? An event so strange I could not +attribute to mere chance. I felt convinced that +the information had been conveyed by design, +although the manner of its accomplishment I +could not comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +A circumstance scarcely less remarkable happened +to me only a few days subsequently. I +had wandered a few miles into the country, and +at length found myself upon a rising eminence, +commanding a view of a picturesque little village +in the distance. Although I had at no period +of my life been in this part of the country, the +scene was not novel to me. I had seen it before. +Every object was perfectly familiar. The +mill, with its revolving wheel—the neat cottages, +with small gardens in front—and the little stream +of water that gently trickled past. +</p> + +<p> +These matters gave a stronger impulse to my +reading, and I devoured, with the greatest voracity, +all books appertaining to my favorite subjects. +Indeed, I became so engrossed in my +employment, that I neglected my proper studies, +avoided all society, all exercise, and out-door +occupation. For weeks and weeks I shut my +self up in my chamber, and refused to see anybody. +I would sit for hours of a night, gazing +upon the stars, and wondering if they exercised +any control over the destinies of mankind. So +nervous did this constant study and seclusion +render me, that if a door were blown open by +a sudden blast of wind, I trembled, and became +as pale as death; if a withered bough fell from +a neighboring tree, I was agitated, and unable +for some seconds to speak; if a sudden footstep +was heard on the stairs, I anticipated that my +chamber-door would be immediately thrown +<pb n='686'/><anchor id='Pg686'/> +open, and ere many seconds elapsed to be in the +presence of a visitor from the dark and invisible +world of shadows. I became pale and feverish, +my appetite failed me, and I felt a strong disinclination +to perform the ordinary duties of life. +</p> + +<p> +My friends observed, with anxiety and disquietude, +my altered appearance; and I was +recommended to change my residence, and to +withdraw myself entirely from books. A favorable +locality, combining the advantages of pure +air, magnificent scenery, and retirement, was +accordingly chosen for me, in which it was determined +I should remain during the winter +months. It was now the latter end of September. +</p> + +<p> +My future residence lay at the distance of +about ten German miles from Berlin. It was +a fine autumnal day, that I proceeded, in the +company of a friend, to take possession of my +new abode. Toward the close of the day we +found ourselves upon an elevated ground, commanding +an extensive and beautiful view of the +country for miles around. From this spot we +beheld the house, or rather castle (for it had +once assumed this character, although it was +now dismantled, and a portion only of the eastern +wing was inhabitable), that I was to occupy. +It stood in an extensive valley, through which a +broad and deep stream held its devious course—now +flowing smoothly and placidly along, amid +dark, overhanging trees—now dashing rapidly +and furiously over the rocks, foaming and roaring +as it fell in the most beautiful cascades. +The building stood on the margin of the stream, +and in the midst of thick and almost impenetrable +woods, that rendered the situation in the +highest degree romantic and captivating. The +scene presented itself to us under the most favorable +aspect. The sun was just setting behind +the distant hills, and his rays were tinging with +a soft, mellow light, the foliage of the trees, of +a thousand variegated colors. Here and there, +through the interstices of the trees, they fell +upon the surface of the water, thus relieving the +dark and sombre appearance of the stream. +The road we now traversed led, by a circuitous +route, into the valley. As we journeyed on, I +was more than ever struck with the beauty of +the scene. Dried leaves in many places lay +scattered upon the ground; but the trees were +still well laden with foliage, although I foresaw +they would be entirely stripped in a short time. +The evening was soft and mild; but occasionally +a gentle breeze would spring up, and cause, +for a moment, a slight rustling among the +trees, and then gradually die away. The sky +above our heads was serene and placid, presenting +one vast expanse of blue, relieved, here and +there, by a few light fleecy clouds. As we got +deeper into the valley, the road became bad and +uneven, and it was with much difficulty we +prevented our horses from stumbling. In one +or two instances we had to dismount and lead +them, the road in many places being dangerous +and precipitous. At length we gained the bottom +of the valley. A rude stone bridge was +thrown over the stream above described, over +which we led our steeds. Arrived at the other +side, we entered a long avenue of trees, sufficient +to admit of two horsemen riding abreast. +When we had gained the extremity of the +avenue, the road diverged to the left, and became +tortuous and intricate in its windings. It +was in a bad state of repair, for the building +had not been inhabited by any body but an old +woman for a great number of years. We at +length arrived in front of the entrance. As I +gazed upon the dilapidated structure, I did not +for a moment dream of the suffering and misery +I was to undergo beneath its roof. We dismounted +and gave our horses into the charge of +a man who worked about the grounds during +the day-time. We were no sooner admitted +into this peculiar-looking place, than a circumstance +occurred which plunged me into the +greatest distress of mind, and aroused a host of +the most painful and agonizing reminiscences. +I conceived the event to be ominous of disaster; +and so it proved. I recognized, in the woman +who admitted us, that execrable being who had +already so deeply injured my family, and to +whose infernal machinations I unhesitatingly ascribed +the idiocy and death of my dearly beloved +sister. She gazed earnestly upon me, and +seemed to recognize me. This discovery caused +me the greatest uneasiness. I hated the sight +of the woman; I loathed her; I shuddered +when I was in her presence; and a vague, undefinable +feeling took possession of me, which +seemed to suggest that she was something more +than mortal. I know not what evils I anticipated +from this discovery. I predicted, however, +nothing so awful, nothing so horrible, as what +actually befell me. +</p> + +<p> +I took the earliest opportunity of speaking +alone with this woman. +</p> + +<p> +<q>My good woman,</q> I said to her, <q>I shall +not suffer you to remain here at night.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Why not, sir?</q> she asked. +</p> + +<p> +<q>There are certain insuperable objections, +the nature of which you may probably surmise.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Indeed, I do not.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>Then your memory is short.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>I do not understand you, sir.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<q>It is not of any consequence.</q> +</p> + +<p> +After some further altercation, she consented +to submit to the terms dictated to her. +</p> + +<p> +On the following day, my friend Hoffmeister +returned to Berlin, where he had some business +to transact, on which depended much of his +future happiness. He promised to pay me +another visit in the course of a week or ten +days. +</p> + +<p> +I spent the first three or four days very comfortably, +though I was still very nervous, and in +a weak state of health. On the morning of the +fifth day, the old woman (who had by some +means discovered my profession) asked me if I +required a subject for the purpose of dissection. +This was what I had long been seeking for, +but my efforts to obtain one had hitherto been +fruitless. I asked the sex, and she informed +<pb n='687'/><anchor id='Pg687'/> +me it was a male. I was delighted with the +offer, and at once acquiesced in the terms. Toward +nightfall it was arranged that the corpse +should be conveyed to the castle. +</p> + +<p> +I know not from what cause, but, during the +whole of the day, I was in a very abstracted +and desponding state of mind, and began to regret +that I had agreed to take the body through +the mediation of the old woman, whom I almost +conceived to be in league with Beelzebub himself. +</p> + +<p> +The day had been exceedingly sultry, and toward +evening the sky became overcast with +huge masses of dark clouds. The wind, at intervals, +moaned fitfully, and as it swept through +the long corridors of the building, strongly resembled +the mournful and pitiful tones of a +human being in distress. The trees that stood +in front of the house ever and anon yielded to +the intermitting gusts of wind, and bowed their +heads as though in submission to a superior +power. There was no human being to be seen +out of doors, and the cattle, shortly before grazing +upon some distant hills, had already been +removed. The river flowed sluggishly past, its +brawling breaking occasionally upon the ear +when the wind was inaudible. Suddenly the +wind ceased, and large drops of rain began to +fall; presently afterward, it came down in torrents. +It was a fearful night. Frequent peals +of thunder smote upon the ear; now it seemed +to be at a distance, now immediately overhead. +Vivid flashes of lightning were at intervals +seen in the distant horizon, illumining for a +moment, with supernatural brilliancy, the most +minute and insignificant objects. In the midst +of the tempest, I fancied I heard a rumbling +noise at a distance. It grew more distinct; the +cause of it was rapidly approaching. I looked +earnestly out of the window, and I thought I +could discern a moving object between the interstices +of the trees. I was not mistaken. It +was the vehicle conveying the dead body. It +came along at a rapid pace. It was just in the +act of turning an angle of the road, when a tree, +of gigantic proportions, was struck by the electric +fluid to the ground. The horse shied, and +the car narrowly escaped being crushed beneath +its ponderous weight. The men drove up to +the entrance, and speedily took the box containing +the body from the car, and placed it in a +room which I showed them into. I directed +them to take the body out of the box, and place +it upon a deal board, which I had laid horizontally +upon a couple of trestles. The corpse was +accordingly taken out. It was that of a finely-grown +young man. I laid my hand upon it; it +was still warm, and I fancied I felt a slight +pulsation about the region of the heart. Anxious +to dismiss the men as soon as possible, and +fearing that the old woman might be imposing +upon me, I asked the price. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Siebzig Thaler, mein Herr</foreign>,</q> said the man. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Danke, danke—tausendmal</foreign>,</q> said he, +as I counted the money into his hand. +</p> + +<p> +At this instant a vivid flash of lightning illumined, for a second or two, the livid and +ghastly corpse of the man, rendering the object +horrible to gaze upon. +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Gott im Himmel! was für ein schrecklicker +Stürm!</foreign></q> exclaimed the man to whom I had +paid the money. +</p> + +<p> +In a few minutes the men departed, and I +stood at the window watching them, as they +drove furiously away. At length they disappeared +altogether from my view. +</p> + +<p> +I was now alone in the house. The storm +was as furious as ever. I had never before felt +so wretched. I was restless and uneasy, and a +thousand dark thoughts flitted across my distracted +brain as I wandered from room to room. +It was already quite dark, and I was at least a +couple of miles distant from any living soul. +The frequent flashes of lightning, the loud peals +of thunder, the dead body of the man, and my +own nervous and superstitious temperament, +constituted a multitude of anxieties, fears, and +apprehensions, that might have caused the stoutest +heart to quail beneath their influence. I seated +myself in the sitting-room that had been provided +for me, and took up my <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>meerschaum</foreign>, and +endeavored to compose myself. It was, however, +in vain. I was exceedingly restless, and +I know not what vague and indefinable apprehensions +entered my imagination. Whenever I +have felt a presentiment of evil, it has invariably +been followed by some danger or difficulty. It +was so in the present instance. I drew the +curtains in front of the windows, for I could not +bear to look upon the storm that was raging +with unabated vehemence out of doors, and I +drew my chair closer to the fire, and sat for a +considerable time. At length, between ten and +eleven o'clock, I took from a small cabinet a +bottle containing some excellent French brandy. +I poured a portion of it into a tumbler, and diluted +it with warm water. I took two or three +copious draughts, which I thought imparted +new life to my frame. +</p> + +<p> +I was in this way occupied, when a sudden +noise in a corner of the room caused a feeling +of horror to thrill through my whole system. I +sprang upon my legs in a moment; my eyes +stared wildly, and every limb in my body shook +as though with convulsions. For a moment, I +stood still, steadfastly fixing my eyes upon the +place from whence the noise proceeded. All +was quiet. I heard nothing save the beating +of the rain against the windows, and low peals +of distant thunder. I walked across the room, +and I discovered that a riding-whip had fallen +from the nail from which it had been suspended. +Satisfied that there was no occasion for alarm, I +resumed my seat, and indulged in fresh draughts +of brandy-and-water. A few minutes elapsed, +and a noise similar to the last filled me with +new apprehensions. I sprang again from my +seat. The pulses of my heart beat quickly. I +gazed wildly about me. I could see nothing—hear +nothing. I walked a few paces, and found +an empty powder-flask upon the floor; it had +fallen from a shelf upon which I had placed it +<pb n='688'/><anchor id='Pg688'/> +in the morning. I was much alarmed; I reeled +like a drunken man, and my mind was filled +with the most horrible forebodings. I drank +the diluted spirit more freely than usual, and +stood awaiting the issue. Another article in a +few minutes fell from the wall. I now knew +what to expect. I had frequently read of this +species of disturbance before. It was what, is +called in Germany the <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Poltergeist</foreign>. In a few +minutes, the greatest uproar manifested itself. +The pictures fell from the walls, the ornaments +from the shelves; the jugs, glasses, and bottles +leaped from the table; the chairs, &c., by some +unseen and infernal agency, were overturned. +I ran about like one beside himself; I tore my +hair with agony; I groaned with mental affliction; +and my heart cursed the devil incarnate +that had brought all this misery to pass. It +was the woman; I was convinced of it. She, +she alone, could conceive and hatch such monstrous +and nefarious stratagems. I knew not +what to do—whither to fly. The uproar continued. +In my distraction, I ran from place to +place. I entered the room where the corpse +lay. Merciful God! I discovered, by the glimmering +light from the other chamber, that it +had changed its position. I had laid it upon its +back. Its face was now turned downward! +My cup was full—my misery complete. I returned +to the room I had just quitted. The +disturbance had in some measure abated. I +was thankful that it was so, and I proceeded to +place the tables, chairs, &c., in their usual position. +While I was thus engaged, the tumult +commenced afresh. No sooner had I placed a +chair in an upright direction, than it was immediately +overturned; no sooner had I suspended +a picture from the wall, than it was again upon +the floor. What was I to do? How was I to +escape the horrible spells with which the archfiend +had encompassed me? I could not leave +the place on account of the storm; and even if +I had done so, it was not possible that I could +gain admittance into any habitation at that late +hour of the night. Wretch that I was! What +crime had I committed, wherein had I erred, +that I should be visited with so unaccountable +and terrible a calamity? My presence seemed +to arouse the malignity of the <foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Poltergeist</foreign>, +and I deemed it expedient to leave the room. I was +afraid to enter that in which the dead (?) man +lay, lest I should be exposed to further causes +for alarm. There was certainly a room in the +higher part of the building in which I had been +accustomed to sleep; but I dared not venture +there in my present state of mind. I entered +an adjourning corridor, and paced up and down +for a few minutes, but the air was chilly, and I +was in total darkness. The disturbance ceased +as soon as I had quitted the room. I could not +remain where I was, so I re-entered it, but my +return was only the signal for fresh disasters. +The uproar was resumed with tenfold energy. +However much my heart might revolt from it, +there was no other course open than to go into +the room where the dead body lay. In the +condition of one who is driven to the last stage +of desperation, I walked, with as much fortitude +as I could command, into that chamber. God +of Heaven! I had no sooner reached the threshold +than I started back with affright. I will +not dwell upon that horrible scene; I will not +minutely detail the agony I endured. The +corpse sat upright! I drew the chamber-door +quickly after me and staggered into the next +apartment. Powerless and overcome, I fell to +the ground. +</p> + +<p> +When I recovered, it was day. The light +was streaming into the chamber, and the storm +had subsided. Fresh marvels were to be revealed. +I was no longer in the room in which +I had been on the preceding night. I was in +bed, in the chamber where I had hitherto slept! +How came I hither? I knew not. I pressed +my hand to my brow, and strove to collect my +scattered senses. I was bewildered and confused, +and could only account for the marvelous +transition to which I had been exposed, by +some remarkable agency, altogether intangible +to my senses, and utterly beyond the power of +my understanding to comprehend. +</p> + +<p> +I descended, as soon as I was dressed, to +breakfast, of which I sparingly partook. I was +pale and agitated. My sitting-room was in its +usual state of order. I did not venture into +the other apartment, neither did I speak to the +woman touching the spectacles I had witnessed. +</p> + +<p> +Hoffmeister returned in the evening, some +days sooner than he expected. He observed +my altered appearance, and said— +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Was fehlt dir? Du bist krank, nicht +wahr?</foreign></q> +</p> + +<p> +<q><foreign lang='de' rend='italic'>Nein; ich bin recht wohl, Gott sei dank</foreign>.</q> +</p> + +<p> +I could not, however, convince Hoffmeister +that nothing had happened. I was not disposed +to reveal to him what I had witnessed, +for I knew he would treat the matter with +unbecoming levity. His opinions were very +different from mine upon these subjects. +</p> + +<p> +Hoffmeister appeared much depressed in +spirits himself. I inquired the cause, but he +evaded the question. I concluded that his journey +to Berlin had not been attended with satisfactory +results, for I could conjecture no other +cause for his unhappiness. We retired to rest +early, for Hoffmeister appeared fatigued. I +proposed that we should sleep together, which +my friend gladly assented to. +</p> + +<p> +I was much surprised, when I awoke on the +following morning, to find myself alone. What +had become of Hoffmeister? Had he, too, been +under the domination of some evil power? +I knew he was not an early riser, and his +absence, therefore, astonished and agitated me. +I dressed myself hastily, and immediately went +in search of him. I wandered about the adjacent +grounds, but he was not there. I could +not rest till I had found him. I had known +him for many years, and had always loved and +esteemed him. He was, till lately, my constant +companion—my bosom-friend—in a word, +my <emph>alter ego</emph>. +</p> + +<p> +I resolved to extend my search. I swiftly +<pb n='689'/><anchor id='Pg689'/> +passed through the avenue of trees, crossed the +bridge, and it was not long before I had gained +the summit of the road that led into the valley. +I stood for a while gazing around me. I gazed +earnestly at the dilapidated and time-worn walls +of the old castle, in which I had witnessed so +many marvelous and horrible sights. I shuddered +when I reflected upon them. I resumed +my journey, and at length reached a village a +few miles distant from my former abode. I +walked quickly forward, and on my way met +several persons who saluted me, whom I did +not remember to have seen before. What could +they mean by taking such unwarrantable liberties +with me? They did not appear to be +drunk, nor to have any intention of insulting +me. It was odd—unaccountable. I hurried +on. My head began to swim; my eyes were +burning hot, and ready to start from their +sockets. I was wild—frantic. +</p> + +<p> +I reached the shop of an apothecary, and +stepped in to ask for water, to quench my +thirst. The man smirked, and asked me how +I was. I told him, I did not know him; but +he persisted in saying he had been in my company +only a night or two before. I was confounded. +I seized the glass of water he held +in his hand, and took a hearty draught, and +precipitately departed. I traveled on. I was +bewildered—in a maze, from which I found it +impossible to extricate myself. I made inquiries +about my friend, but the people stared and +laughed, as though there was something extraordinary +about me. I wandered about till nightfall, +and at last found shelter in a cottage by +the road-side, which was inhabited by an infirm +old woman. +</p> + +<p> +The next day I returned to the village. I +called upon a gentleman with whom I was intimately +acquainted. I thought he might be +able to give me some tidings of my friend. +When I was ushered into his presence he did +not know me. I was incredulous. Was I no +longer myself? Had I changed my identity? +Whence this mystery? I was unable to fathom +it. I handed my card to him; he looked at it, +and returned it, saying he did not know Mr. +Hoffmeister. The card was that of my friend. +How it had come into my possession I knew not. +I apologized for the error, and informed him that +my name was not Hoffmeister, but Heinrich +Gottlieb Langström. My surprise may be conceived, +when he informed me Langström—in +fact, that I myself was dead, and that my body +had been found in the stream that flowed past +the village the day previously! I was ready +to sink through the floor, and could not find +language to reply to the monstrous falsehood. +I rushed from his presence, feeling assured that +some conspiracy was afoot to drive me mad. +I must have become so, or I never would have +been exposed to the extraordinary delusion to +which I afterward became a victim. +</p> + +<p> +I entered a house of public entertainment, +and determined to solve this dreadful enigma. +I was, unfortunately, acquainted with the doctrines +of Pythagoras, and, at the time to which +I refer, no doubt insane. +</p> + +<p> +I requested to be shown into a room, where I +could arrange my dress. I was conducted into +a chamber, in which all things necessary for +that purpose were provided. My object, however, +was of greater consequence than this. I +wished to unravel the strange mystery that surrounded +me—to discover, in a word, whether +I were really myself, or some other person. +There was no way of freeing myself from this +horrible suspense and uncertainty than by examining +my features in the looking-glass. There +was one placed upon a dressing-table, but I +shrank from it as though it had been a demon. +I dreaded to approach it; I feared to look into it, +lest it should confirm all the vague and monstrous +misgivings that agitated my mind. I +regarded it as the arbiter of my destiny. It +possessed the power either to transport me with +happiness, or to plunge me into utter, irretrievable +misery. In that brief moment I endured +an age of agony and suspense. With a faltering +step, with a whirling brain, I advanced +toward the glass. I stood opposite to it; I +looked into it. Distraction! horror of horrors! +It was not my own face I beheld! I swooned—fell +backward. +</p> + +<p> +When I recovered, I found myself in the arms +of a man, who bathed my temples with water. +I quickly made my escape from the house. I +was pale and haggard, like one stricken with +some sudden and grievous calamity. I fancied, +as I passed along, that the passengers whom I +met stared at me, laughed in my face, and +seemed to consider my misfortune a fit subject +for their mirth and ridicule. Every hubbub in +the street, every screeching voice that assailed +my ear, I conceived to be attributable to my +horrible transformation. I was afraid to look +around; I dared not arrest my progress for a +moment, lest any of the mocking fiends should +make sport of my unhappy situation, and drive +me to some act of desperation. On, on, I hurried. +I gained the fields. Thank Heaven! +the village lay at a distance behind me. The +haunts of men were no place for me. I was +something more than mortal. I had undergone +a change, of which I had never conceived myself +susceptible. I sped forward; naught could +impede my course. My only relief was in action. +Any thing to dissipate the thoughts that +flitted across my distracted brain. Bodily pain +might be endured—fatigue, hunger, any corporeal +suffering; but to think, was death—destruction. +Oh! could I have evaded thought +for one moment, what joy, what transport! I +fled onward; there was no time to pause—to +consider. The sun had already sunk behind +the hills, and night was about to spread her +mantle o'er the earth, when I threw myself +down, exhausted and overpowered. Slumber +sealed my eyes, and I lay upon the ground, an +outcast of men, an isolated and wretched being, +to whom the common lot of humanity had been +denied. +</p> + +<pb n='690'/><anchor id='Pg690'/> + +<p> +I will hurry this painful narrative to a close. +I have but a vague idea of the events that occurred +during the next few weeks. I remember +being told, as I lay in bed, by a young woman +who attended me, that I had been found by +some workpeople, on the night above referred +to, in the vicinity of my former residence, and +conveyed thither, and that I had been attacked +by the brain fever, and that my life had been +despaired of by my medical attendant. +</p> + +<p> +The body which had been found in the stream, +and which was supposed to be mine, was that +of my dear friend, Hoffmeister. In his agitation, +previously to his committing the dreadful +act of suicide, he had inadvertently mistaken +my garments for his own. +</p> + +<p> +When I became convalescent, I determined +upon leaving, as soon as possible, the scene of +my recent suffering. Before doing so, I proceeded +to the village which I had previously +visited. I called upon the gentleman who had +not recognized me on a former occasion; but, +strange to say, he now remembered me perfectly, +and received me very kindly indeed. I +referred to the circumstance of our late interview, +but he had no recollection of it. While +we were thus conversing, a third person entered +the room, the very image of my friend, and +who, it appeared was his brother. An explanation +at once ensued. +</p> + +<p> +These matters I have thought it necessary to +explain. There are, however, occurrences in +the narrative, of which I can give no solution, +though I may premise, that my conviction is, +that those which took place in the village, arose +from natural causes, with which I am nevertheless +unacquainted. The body of the man, who, +I have reason to believe, was not quite dead +when he was brought to me, I conveyed with +me to Berlin. The old woman I never again +beheld. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Sun. +(From Chambers's Edinburgh Journal.)</head> + +<p> +Of all the links in the stupendous chain of the +cosmos, the sun, next to our own planet, is +that which we are most concerned in knowing +well, while it is precisely that which we know +the least. This glorious orb has always been +involved in the deepest mystery. All that had +been revealed to us concerning it, till very recently, +was derived from the observations and +deductions of the elder Herschel. His discovery +of a double luminous envelopment, at times +partially withdrawn from various portions of +the sun's surface, afforded, on the whole, a satisfactory +explanation of the numerous spots that are +always seen on his disk. This glimpse merely +of the external changes which happen on his surface +made up the sum of our knowledge of that +great luminary on which the animation of our +planetary system depends! One main cause +of this utter ignorance on the subject, besides +its own intrinsic difficulty, lay in the comparatively +slight attention it had always received +from astronomers generally. No individual observer +ever thought of devoting himself to the +solar phenomena alone, while the public observatories +confined themselves to merely observing +the sun's culmination at noon, or to ascertaining +the exact duration of its eclipses. +</p> + +<p> +We knew, from the observations of Cassini +and Herschel, that the spots on the sun's disk +are not alike numerous every year; and Kunowsky +particularly drew the attention of astronomers +to the fact, that while in the years 1818 +and 1819 very large and numerous ones appeared, +some visible even to the naked eye, very few, on +the contrary, and those of but trifling size, were +seen in the years 1822-1824. But it was reserved +for the indefatigable Schwabe of Dessau, +who has devoted himself for a long series of years +to this one single object, to establish the fact +of these spots observing a certain periodicity. +Among the results of his labors—for as yet we +have only his brief announcements to the scientific +world in the <q>Astronomical Notices</q>—are +the following: 1. That the recurrence of +the solar spots has a period of about ten years; +2. That the number of the single groups of one +year varies at the minimum time from twenty-five +to thirty, while in the maximum years they +sometimes rise to above three hundred; 3. That +with their greater abundance is combined also +a greater local extension and blackness of the +spots; 4. That at the maximum time, the sun, +for some years together, is never seen without +very considerable spots. The last maximum +appears to have been of a peculiarly rich character, +as, from February, 1837, till December, +1840, solar spots were visible on every day of +observation; while the number of groups in the +former of those years amounted to 333. +</p> + +<p> +But if a single individual, by observations +continued unbroken for entire decenniums, has +thus revealed to us the most important fact +hitherto known relating to the sun, there are +other questions not less important which can +only find their solution in the careful observation +of a rarely-occurring interval of perhaps one or +two minutes. The splendor of the sun is so +amazingly great, as to preclude us entirely +from perceiving any object in his immediate +proximity unless projected before his disk as a +darkening object. At ten, or fifteen degrees +even from the sun, when this luminary is above +the horizon, all the fixed stars vanish from the +most powerful telescopes. We are therefore +in utter ignorance whether the space between +him and Mercury is occupied or not by some +other denizen of the planetary system. To +enable us to explore the sun's immediate proximity, +we require a body that shall exclude his +rays from our atmosphere, and yet leave the +space round the sun open to our view. Such +an object can of course be neither a cloud nor +any terrestrial object, natural or artificial, since +parts of the atmosphere will exist behind it +which will be impinged on by the sun's rays. +Only during a total eclipse can these conditions +be fulfilled, and even then but for a very brief +<pb n='691'/><anchor id='Pg691'/> +interval, which may still be lost to the observer +through unfavorable weather or from too low a +position of the sun. +</p> + +<p> +Notwithstanding that this rare and precarious +opportunity is the only possible one we possess +of becoming better acquainted with the physical +nature of the great luminary of day, astronomers +never availed themselves of it for any other +purpose than the admeasurement of the earth, +which might have been done as well, if not +better, during any planetary eclipse. This +error or indifference, whichever it may have +been, can not, however, be laid to the charge +of our living astronomers. The 8th of July, +1842—the day on which the last total eclipse +of the sun took place—witnessed the most distinguished +of these assembled for the purpose +of making, for the first time, observations calculated +to afford us some insight into this greatest +mystery of the celestial world. This eclipse +was total on a zone which traversed the north +of Spain, the south of France, the region of the +Alps and Styria, and a portion of Austria, Central +Russia and Siberia, terminating in China; +so that the observatories of Marseilles, Milan, +Venice, Padua, Vienna, and Ofen, all supplied +with excellent telescopes, and in full activity, +came within its range; while many astronomers, +at whose observatories the eclipse was +not visible, set out for places situated within +the zone just described. Thus Arago and two +of his colleagues repaired to Perpignan, Airy +to Turin, Schumacker to Vienna, Struve and +Sehidloffsky to Lipezk, and Stubendorff to +Koerakow. Most of them were favored by the +weather. Let us now see what the combined +endeavors of these practiced and well-furnished +observers have made us acquainted with. +</p> + +<p> +First, as regards the obscurity, it was so +great, that five, seven, and in some cases as +many as ten stars were visible to the naked +eye. A reddish light was seen to proceed from +the horizon—that is, from those regions where +the darkness was not total—and by this light +print of a moderate size could, with a little +difficulty, be read. Such plants as usually +close their petals at night were seen in most +places to close them also during the eclipse. +The thermometer fell from 2 to 3 degrees of +Reaumur, and in the fields about Perpignan a +heavy dew fell. A change in the color of the +light, and consequently of the enlightened objects, +was noticed by many, although they were +not agreed in their description of it. But this +diversity may have been caused by the nature +of the air at different places being probably different, +and the degree of obscurity very unequal. +At Lipezk, where the eclipse lasted the longest, +being 3 minutes and 3 seconds, a darkness similar +to that of night set in, and there the eclipse +began exactly at noon. +</p> + +<p> +The effect of the eclipse on the animal +creation was similar to what had been observed +before in the like circumstances: they ceased +eating; draught animals suddenly stood still; +domestic birds fled to the stables, or sought +other places of shelter; owls and bats flew +abroad, as if night had come on. Of three +lively linnets, kept in a cage, one dropped down +dead. The insect world too was greatly affected; +ants stopped in the midst of their labors, +and only resumed their course after the reappearance +of the sun; and bees retreated suddenly +to their hives. A general restlessness +pervaded the animal world; and only those +places which were situated more on the boundary +of the zone, and where the obscurity was +consequently less complete, formed an exception. +</p> + +<p> +During the total eclipse, the dark moon which +covered the sun's disk appeared surrounded with +a brilliant crown of light or halo. This halo +consisted of two concentric belts, of which the +inner one was the lightest, and the external less +brilliant, and gradually fading. In the direction +of the line which connected the point of the +commencement of the total eclipse with that of +its termination, two parabolic pencils of light—some +observers say several—appeared on the +halo. Within it also light intervolved veins +were observable. The breadth of the inner +halo was from 2 to 3 minutes; that of the external +one from 10 to 15 minutes; the pencils +of light, on the other hand, extended as far as +from 1 to 1½ degree; by some they were traced +even to 3 degrees. The color of the halo was +of a silvery white, and exhibited a violent undulating +or trembling motion, its general appearance +varying in the briefest space. The light +of the halo was intensest near the covered solar +rim. Its brilliance at Lipezk was so great, that +the naked eye could hardly look on it, and some +of the observers almost doubted whether the sun +had really altogether disappeared. At Vienna, +Milan, and Perpignan, on the contrary, the observers +found the light of the halo resembling +that of the moon toward its full. Bell, at Verona, +who found time to estimate its intensity, +ascertained it to be one-seventh of that of the +full moon. Its first traces were noticed from 3 +to 5 seconds before the entrance of the entire +eclipse; in like manner, its last vestiges disappeared +only some seconds after the eclipse was +over. Vivid, however, as its light was, the halo +cast but an extremely faint shadow. Some, indeed, +who particularly directed their attention +to it, could not detect any. But this might +have been owing to those places on which the +shadows would have fallen being faintly illumined +by the reddish light of the horizon before +mentioned. In other respects, during the progress +of the eclipse, before and after its maximum, +not the least change was observable in +the uncovered part of the sun's disk. The cusps +were as sharp and distinctly-marked as possible, +the lunar mountains were projected on the sun's +surface with the most beautiful distinctness and +precision, and the color and brilliance of his disk, +in the proximity of the moon's rim, were in no +way diminished or altered. In short, nothing +was seen which could be referred in the smallest +degree to a lunar atmosphere. +</p> + +<p> +All these phenomena, striking as they were, +<pb n='692'/><anchor id='Pg692'/> +were such as the assembled observers were prepared +for; for they were such as had already +been noticed during previous eclipses of the sun. +But there was one of quite a different character, +as mysterious as it was novel to them. This +was the appearance of large reddish projections +within the halo on the dark rim. The different +observers characterized it by the expressions—<q>red +clouds, volcanoes, flames, fire-sheaves,</q> +&c.; terms intended of course merely to indicate +the phenomenon, and not in any way to +explain it. The observers differed in their reports +both with respect to the number of these +<q>red clouds,</q> as well as to their apparent heights. +Arago stated that he observed two rose-colored +projections which seemed to be unchangeable, +and a minute high. His two colleagues also +saw them, but to them they seemed somewhat +larger. A fourth observer saw one of the projections +some minutes even after the eclipse was +over, while others perceived it with the naked +eye. Petit, at Montpellier remarked <emph>three</emph> protections, +and even found time to measure one of +them. It was 1-3/4 minute high. Littrow, at +Vienna, considered them to be as high again as +this; and stated <q>that the streaks were visible +before they became colored, and remained visible +also after their color had vanished.</q> The +light of these projections was soft and quiet, the +projections themselves sharp, and their form unchanging +till the moment of their extinction. +Schidloffsky, at Lipezk, thought he perceived a +rose-colored border on the moon in places where +these red clouds did not reach; but could not be +certain of the fact, on account of the shortness +of the time. +</p> + +<p> +These projections or red clouds, mysterious +and unexpected as they were to men who directed +their attention for the first time to the +purely physical phenomena concerned, were in +fact, after all, nothing altogether new. The +descriptions given by astronomers of earlier +eclipses of the sun had been forgotten or overlooked. +Stannyan, for instance, in his relation +of that of the 20th May, 1706, says, <q>The +egress of the sun from the moon's disk was preceded +on its left rim, during an interval of six +or seven seconds, by the appearance of a bloodred +streak;</q> and Nassenius, during a total eclipse +of the sun observed on the 13th of May, 1733, +mentions having seen <q>several red spots, three +or four in number, without the periphery of the +moon's disk, one of them being larger than the +others, and consisting, as it were, of three parallel +parts inclining toward the moon's disk.</q> It +is clear, therefore, that earlier observers had +witnessed the same phenomenon, although they +were unable to offer any explanation of it. It +seems, however, no unreasonable conclusion to +come to, that these projections or red clouds, as +well as the halo with its pencils of light before +spoken of, are something without the proper +solar photosphere, but not forming, as this does, +one connected mass of light. What further can +be known concerning this <emph>something</emph> must be +left to future ages to discover. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Household Jewels. +(From Dickens's Household Words.)</head> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l>A traveler, from journeying</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>In countries far away,</l> +<l>Repassed his threshold at the close</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Of one calm Sabbath day;</l> +<l>A voice of love, a comely face,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>A kiss of chaste delight,</l> +<l>Were the first things to welcome him</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>On that blessed Sabbath night.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>He stretched his limbs upon the hearth,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Before its friendly blaze,</l> +<l>And conjured up mixed memories</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Of gay and gloomy days;</l> +<l>And felt that none of gentle soul,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>However far he roam,</l> +<l>Can e'er forego, can e'er forget,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>The quiet joys of home.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q>Bring me my children!</q> cried the sire,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>With eager, earnest tone;</l> +<l><q rend='pre'>I long to press them, and to mark</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>How lovely they have grown;</l> +<l>Twelve weary months have passed away</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Since I went o'er the sea,</l> +<l>To feel how sad and lone I was</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>Without my babes and thee.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q>Refresh thee, as 'tis needful,</q> said</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>The fair and faithful wife,</l> +<l>The while her pensive features paled,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>And stirred with inward strife;</l> +<l><q rend='pre'>Refresh thee, husband of my heart,</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>I ask it as a boon;</l> +<l>Our children are reposing, love;</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>Thou shalt behold them soon.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>She spread the meal, she filled the cup,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>She pressed him to partake;</l> +<l>He sat down blithely at the board,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>And all for her sweet sake;</l> +<l>But when the frugal feast was done,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>The thankful prayer preferred,</l> +<l>Again affection's fountain flowed;</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Again its voice was heard.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>Bring me my children, darling wife</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>I'm in an ardent mood;</l> +<l>My soul lacks purer aliment,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>I long for other food;</l> +<l>Bring forth my children to my gaze,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Or ere I rage or weep,</l> +<l>I yearn to kiss their happy eyes</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>Before the hour of sleep.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>I have a question yet to ask;</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Be patient, husband dear.</l> +<l>A stranger, one auspicious morn,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Did send some jewels here;</l> +<l>Until to take them from my care,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>But yesterday he came,</l> +<l>And I restored them with a sigh:</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>—Dost thou approve or blame?</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>I marvel much, sweet wife, that thou</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Shouldst breathe such words to me;</l> +<l>Restore to man, resign to God,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Whate'er is lent to thee;</l> +<pb n='693'/><anchor id='Pg693'/> +<l>Restore it with a willing heart,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Be grateful for the trust;</l> +<l>Whate'er may tempt or try us, wife,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>Let us be ever just.</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>She took him by the passive hand.</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>And up the moonlit stair,</l> +<l>She led him to their bridal bed,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>With mute and mournful air;</l> +<l>She turned the cover down, and there,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>In grave-like garments dressed,</l> +<l>Lay the twin children of their love,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>In death's serenest rest.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>These were the jewels lent to me,</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Which God has deigned to own;</l> +<l>The precious caskets still remain,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>But, ah, the <emph>gems</emph> are flown;</l> +<l>But thou didst teach me to resign</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>What God alone can claim;</l> +<l>He giveth and he takes away,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>Blest be His holy name!</q></l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>The father gazed upon his babes,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>The mother drooped apart,</l> +<l>While all the woman's sorrow gushed</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>From her o'erburdened heart;</l> +<l>And with the striving of her grief,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Which wrung the tears she shed.</l> +<l>Were mingled low and loving words</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>To the unconscious dead.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l>When the sad sire had looked his fill,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>He vailed each breathless face,</l> +<l>And down in self-abasement bowed,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>For comfort and for grace;</l> +<l>With the deep eloquence of woe,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Poured forth his secret soul,</l> +<l>Rose up, and stood erect and calm,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>In spirit healed and whole.</l> +</lg> + +<lg> +<l><q>Restrain thy tears, poor wife,</q> he said,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='pre'>I learn this lesson still,</q></l> +<l>God gives, and God can take away,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>Blest be His holy will!</l> +<l>Blest are my children, for they <emph>live</emph></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'>From sin and sorrow free,</l> +<l>And I am not all joyless, wife,</l> +<l rend='margin-left: 4'><q rend='post'>With faith, hope, love, and thee.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Tea-Plant. +(From Hogg's Instructor.)</head> + +<p> +Hid behind the monster wall that screens in +the land of the Celestials from the prying +eye of the <q>barbarian,</q> the Tea-plant, in common +with many things peculiar to those regions, +remained long unknown to Europeans, and the +snatches of information brought home by early +travelers concerning it, were, in too many cases, +of that questionable and contradictory kind, so +characteristic, even in the present day, of the +writings of those who travel in Eastern lands. +Tea has now become a general article of domestic +consumption in every household of our +country having any pretension to social comfort, +as well as in that of every other civilized nation, +and, indeed, the <emph>tea-table</emph> has no mean influence +in refining the manners and promoting the social +intercourse of a people. Important, however, +as this universal beverage has become as an +essential requisite to the social and physical +comfort of all classes and conditions of civilized +society, yet our knowledge of the plant from +which it is produced is still very imperfect; +and this, notwithstanding the fact that we have +had tea-plants growing in our hothouses since +the year 1768. Speaking of the introduction +of the plant to this country, Hooker says—<q>It +was not till after tea had been used as a beverage +for upwards of a century in England, that +the shrub which produces it was brought alive +to this country. More than one botanist had +embarked for the voyage to China—till lately a +protracted and formidable undertaking—mainly +in the hope of introducing a growing tea-tree to +our greenhouses. No passage across the desert, +no Waghorn-facilities, no steam-ship assisted the +traveler in those days. The distance to and +from China, with the necessary time spent in +that country, generally consumed nearly three +years! Once had the tea-tree been procured +by Osbeck, a pupil of Linnæus, in spite of the +jealous care with which the Chinese forbade its +exportation; and when near the coast of England, +a storm ensued, which destroyed the +precious shrubs. Then the plan of obtaining +berries was adopted, and frustrated by the heat +of the tropics, which spoiled the oily seeds, and +prevented their germination. The captain of a +Swedish vessel hit upon a good scheme: having +secured fresh berries, he sowed these on board +ship, and often stinted himself of his daily allowance +of water for the sake of the young plants; +but, just as the ship entered the English Channel, +an unlucky rat attacked his cherished charge +and devoured them all!</q> So much, then, for +the early attempts to introduce the tea-shrub to +Europe: often, indeed, is the truth exemplified +that +</p> + +<quote rend='display'> +<lg> +<l><q rend='pre'>The best laid schemes o' mice an' men</q></l> +<l rend='margin-left: 6'><q rend='post'>Gang aft a-gee.</q></l> +</lg> +</quote> + +<p> +The Chinese tea-plants are neat-growing +shrubs, with bright glossy green leaves, not +unlike those of the bay; or a more exact similitude +will be found in the garden camellia, with +the <emph>leaves</emph> of which, however, many of our readers +may not have acquaintance, although the +<emph>flowers</emph> are well known, being extensively used +in decorating the female dress for the ball-room +in the winter season. The tea-plants are nearly +allied to the camellia, and belong to the same +natural order: indeed, one species of the latter—the +<foreign rend='italic'>Camellia sasanqua</foreign> of botanists—is cultivated +in the tea-grounds of China, on account of +its beautiful flowers, which are said to impart +fragrance and flavor to other teas. +</p> + +<p> +Comparatively few scientific naturalists have +had sufficient opportunities of studying the tea-producing +plants in their native <emph>habitats</emph>, or even +in the cultivated grounds of China, and consequently +a great difference of opinion has all +along existed, as to whether tea is obtained +from one, two, or more distinct species of <foreign rend='italic'>Thea</foreign>. +This question is getting day by day more involved +<pb n='694'/><anchor id='Pg694'/> +as new facts come to light; and, indeed, +cultivation seems to have altered the original +character of some forms of the plant so much, +that the subject bids fair to remain an open +question among European botanists for ages to +come. The two tea-plants which have been +long grown in British gardens, and universally +supposed, until within the last few years, to be +the only kinds in existence, are the <foreign rend='italic'>Thea bohea</foreign> +and the <foreign rend='italic'>Thea viridis</foreign>. The former was, until +recently, very generally believed to produce the +black tea of commerce, and the latter the green +tea; but recent travelers have clearly shown +that both <emph>black</emph> and <emph>green</emph> tea may be, and are, +obtained from the same plant. The difference +is caused by the mode of preparation; but it +will be afterward seen that very important discrepancies +occur between the accounts of this +operation given by different observers. Certain +it is, that the extreme caution with which the +Chinese attempt to conceal a knowledge of their +peculiar arts and manufactures from European +visitors—and in none is their anxiety to do so +more strikingly evinced than in the case of the +culture and preparation of tea—tends greatly to +frustrate the endeavors of the scientific traveler +to acquire accurate information on this point. +</p> + +<p> +In the present state of our knowledge, it is +quite impossible to say how many species or +varieties of the tea-plant are grown in China. +They are now believed to be numerous, although +the two kinds to which we have referred are +those most extensively cultivated. They have +long been allowed to rank as distinct species in +botanical books, and grown as such in our greenhouses; +but some acute botanists have, at various +times, suggested that they might be merely +varieties of one plant. Such was the opinion of +the editor of the <q>Botanical Magazine,</q> when +he figured and described the Bohea variety +(t. 998). Professor Balfour (<q>Manual of Botany,</q> +§ 793) enumerates three species—the two +already mentioned, and one called <foreign rend='italic'>Thea Assamica</foreign>, +being the one chiefly cultivated at the +tea-grounds of Assam. Most of our readers +may be aware that the cultivation and manufacture +of tea has been successfully introduced +to Northern India. A <q>Report on the Government +Tea Plantations in Kumaon and Gurwahl, +by W. Jameson, Esq., the superintendent of the +Botanical Gardens in the North-Western Provinces,</q><note place='foot'>Calcutta, +1848. This report is also published in the +<q>Journal of the Agricultural and Horticultural Society +of India,</q> vol. vi. part 2.</note> +has just reached us. In that report—to +which we will have occasion afterward to refer—there +are <q>two species, and two well marked +varieties</q> described. Some of these do not appear +to have been at all noticed by other writers, +although, from specimens of the plants, which +we have examined, from the tea-grounds, they +appear sufficiently distinct to warrant their being +ranked as separate species; and there are, +indeed, some botanists who would at once set +them down as such. +</p> + +<p> +Having disposed of the question of <emph>species</emph> in +such manner as the unsatisfactory state of botanical +knowledge on this point will admit, we shall +now proceed to communicate some information +respecting the culture of the tea-plant, and the +manner in which its leaves are made available +for the production of the beverage of which the +female portion of the community, and more particularly +<emph>old wives</emph> (of both sexes), are believed +to be so remarkably fond. +</p> + +<p> +The tea-plants are grown in beds conveniently +formed for the purpose of irrigating in dry +weather, and for plucking the leaves when required. +The Chinese sow the seed thus: +<q>Several seeds are dropped into holes four or +five inches deep, and three or four feet apart, +shortly after they ripen, or in November and +December; the plants rise up in a cluster when +the rains come on. They are seldom transplanted, +but, sometimes, four to six are put +quite close, to form a fine bush.</q> In the government +plantations of Kumaon and Gurwahl, more +care seems to be bestowed in the raising of the +plants, whereby the needless expenditure of +seeds in the above method is saved. The seeds +ripen in September or October, and in elevated +districts, sometimes so late as November. In +his report, Mr. Jameson mentions that, when +ripe, the seeds are sown in drills, eight to ten +inches apart from each other, the ground having +been previously prepared by trenching and +manuring. If the plants germinate in November, +they are protected from the cold by a +<q><emph>chupper</emph>,</q> made of bamboo and grass—a small +kind of bamboo, called the ringal, being found +in great abundance on the hills, at an elevation +of 6000 to 7000 feet, and well adapted for the +purpose; these <emph>chuppers</emph> are removed throughout +the day, and replaced at night. In April and +May, they are used for protecting the young +plants from the heat of the sun, until the rains +commence. When the plants have attained a +sufficient size they are transplanted with great +care, a ball of earth being attached to their roots. +They require frequent waterings, if the weather +be dry. During the rains grass springs up +around them with great rapidity, so as to render +it impossible, with the usual number of hands, +to keep the grounds clean. The practice, therefore, +is merely to make a <q><foreign rend='italic'>golah</foreign></q> or clear space +round each plant, these being connected with +small water channels, in order to render irrigation +easy in times of drought. The plants do +not require to be pruned until the fifth year, the +plucking of leaves generally tending to make +them assume the basket shape, the form most to +be desired to procure the greatest quantity of +leaves. Irrigation seems absolutely essential +for the profitable cultivation of the tea-plant, +although, on the other hand, land liable to be +flooded during the rains, and upon which water +lies for any length of time, is quite unsuitable +for its growth. The plant seems to thrive in a +great variety of soils, but requires the situation +to be at a considerable altitude above the sea +level. +</p> + +<p> +According to Mr. Jameson, the season for +<pb n='695'/><anchor id='Pg695'/> +picking the leaves commences in April and +continues until October, the number of gatherings +varying, according to the nature of the +season, from four to seven. So soon as the new +and young leaves have appeared in April, the +first plucking takes place. <q>A certain division +of the plantation is marked off, and to each man +a small basket is given, with instructions to +proceed to a certain point, so that no plant may +be passed over. On the small basket being +filled, the leaves are emptied into another large +one, which is put in some shady place, and in +which, when filled, they are conveyed to the +manufactory. The leaves are generally plucked +with the thumb and forefinger. Sometimes the +terminal part, of a branch having four or five +young leaves attached, is plucked off.</q> The old +leaves, being too hard to curl, are rejected as of +no use; but all new and fresh leaves are indiscriminately +collected. +</p> + +<p> +The <emph>manufacture</emph> of the different varieties of +tea has been the subject of much difference of +opinion. It has been supposed by some writers, +as we have already mentioned, that <emph>green</emph> tea +was solely obtained from the Thea viridis, and +<emph>black</emph> tea from the Thea bohea, while others +have asserted, that the different kinds of the +manufactured article are equally produced by +both plants. Facts seem now to be quite in +favor of the latter opinion, and, indeed, Mr. +Fortune, while on his first botanical mission on +account of the Horticultural Society of London, +ascertained, by visiting the different parts of the +coast of China, that the <foreign rend='italic'>Bohea</foreign> plant was converted +into both black and green tea in the south +of China, but that in all the northern provinces +he found only <foreign rend='italic'>Thea viridis</foreign> grown, and equally +converted into both kinds of tea. Mr. Ball (the +late inspector of teas to the East India Company +in China), in a work entitled <q>An Account of +the Cultivation and Manufacture of Tea in +China,</q> fully confirms the fact that both the +green and black teas are prepared from the +same plant, and that the differences depend +entirely on the processes of manufacture. It is, +of course, possible that particular varieties of +the same plant, grown in certain soils and situations, +may be preferred by the Chinese manufacturers +for the preparation of the black and +green teas, and the various kinds of both known +in commerce. It has been stated by some that +the <emph>young leaves</emph> are taken for green tea, and +the older ones for the black varieties; this is the +popular notion on the subject, but probably it +has no foundation. +</p> + +<p> +Although it <emph>now</emph> seems somewhat generally +agreed that both green and black teas are made +from the leaves of the same plant, yet the various +writers on the subject are at considerable +variance as to the mode in which the difference +of appearance is brought about. Some assert +that the <emph>black</emph> being the natural colored tea, the +beautiful green tinge is given to the <emph>green</emph> tea +by means of substances used for the purpose of +dyeing it; while others hold that the green hue +depends entirely on the method of roasting. +</p> + +<p> +Among the formers Mr. Fortune, whose account +of the <q>Chinese Method of Coloring Green +Tea,</q> as observed by him, is published in a former +number of the <hi rend='smallcaps'>Instructor</hi> (<hi rend='smallcaps'>No</hi>. 240, +page 91). From that account, it would appear that +the coloring substances used are gypsum, indigo, +and Prussian blue, and <q>for every hundred +pounds of green tea which are consumed in +England or America, the consumer really eats +more than half a pound</q> of these substances. +We hope now to present our tea-drinking readers +with a more pleasing picture than this; to +show that indeed there is not <q>death in the +cup,</q> nor aught else to be feared. We therefore +proceed to explain the modes of manufacture, +as detailed by Mr. Ball. And, firstly, the +<emph>manufacture</emph> of <emph>black</emph> tea. The leaves, on being +gathered, are exposed to the air, until they +wither and <q>become soft and flaccid.</q> In this +state they soon begin to emit a slight degree of +fragrance, when they are sifted, and then tossed +about with the hands in large trays. They are +then collected into a heap, and covered with a +cloth, being now <q>watched with the utmost +care, until they become spotted and tinged with +red, when they also increase in fragrance, and +must be instantly roasted, or the tea would be +injured.</q> In the first roasting, the fire, which +is prepared with dry wood, is kept exceedingly +brisk; but <q>any heat may suffice which produces +the crackling of the leaves described by +Kæmpfer.</q> The roasting is continued till the +leaves give out a fragrant smell, and become +quite flaccid, when they are in a fit state to be +rolled. The roasting and rolling are often a +third, and sometimes even a fourth time repeated, +and, indeed, the process of rolling is continued +until the juices can no longer be freely +expressed. The leaves are then finally dried +in sieves placed in drying-tubs, over a charcoal +fire in a common chafing-dish. The heat dissipates +much of the moisture, and the leaves begin +to assume their black appearance. Smoke +is prevented, and the heat moderated, by the +ash of charcoal or burnt <q>paddy-husk</q> being +thrown on the fire. <q>The leaves are then +twisted, and again undergo the process of drying, +twisting, and turning as before; which is +repeated once or twice more, until they become +quite black, well-twisted, and perfectly dry and +crisp.</q> +</p> + +<p> +According to Dr. Royle, there are only two +gatherings of the leaves of <emph>green</emph> tea in the year; +the first beginning about the 20th of April, and +the second at the summer solstice. <q>The green +tea factors universally agree that the sooner the +leaves of green tea are roasted after gathering +the better; and that exposure to the air is unnecessary, +and to the sun injurious.</q> The iron +vessel in which the green tea is roasted is called +a <foreign rend='italic'>kuo</foreign>. It is thin, about sixteen inches in diameter, +and set horizontally (that for Twankey obliquely) +in a stove of brickwork, so as to have a +depth of about fifteen inches. The fire is prepared +with dry wood, and kept very brisk; the +heat becomes intolerable, and the bottom of the +<pb n='696'/><anchor id='Pg696'/> +kuo even red-hot, though this is not essential. +About half a pound of leaves are put in at one +time, a crackling noise is produced, much steam +is evolved from the leaves, which are quickly +stirred about; at the end of every turn they are +raised about six inches above the surface of the +stove, and shaken on the palm of the hand, so +as to separate them, or to disperse the steam. +They are then suddenly collected into a heap, +and passed to another man, who stands in readiness +with a basket to receive them. The process +of rolling is much the same as that employed +in the rolling of black tea, the leaves taking +the form of a ball. After the balls are shaken +to pieces, the leaves are also rolled between the +palms of the hands, so that they may be twisted +regularly, and in the same direction. They are +then spread out in sieves, and placed on stands +in a cool room. +</p> + +<p> +For the second roasting the fire is considerably +diminished, and charcoal used instead of +wood, and the leaves constantly fanned by a boy +who stands near. When the leaves have lost +so much of their aqueous and viscous qualities +as to produce no sensible steam, they no longer +adhere together, but, by the simple action of the +fire, separate and curl of themselves. When +taken from the kuo, they appear of a dark olive +color, almost black; and after being sifted, they +are placed on stands as before. +</p> + +<p> +For the third roasting, which is in fact the +final drying, the heat is not greater than what +the hand can bear for some seconds without much +inconvenience. <q>The fanning and the mode of +roasting were the same as in the final part of the +second roasting. It was now curious to observe +the change of color which gradually took place +in the leaves, for it was in this roasting that they +began to assume that bluish tint, resembling the +bloom on fruit, which distinguishes this tea, and +renders its appearance so agreeable.</q> +</p> + +<p> +The foregoing being the general mode of +manufacturing green or Hyson tea, it is then separated +into different varieties, as Hyson, Hyson-skin, +young Hyson, and gunpowder, by sifting, +winnowing, and fanning, and some varieties by +further roasting. +</p> + +<p> +This account of the preparation of green tea +is directly opposed to that given by Mr. Fortune, +before referred to, wherein it is mentioned that +the coloring of green tea is effected by the admixture +of indigo, gypsum, &c. It would appear +that both modes are practiced in China; +and, with the editor of the <q>Botanical Gazette,</q> +we may ask, Is it not possible that <emph>genuine</emph> green +tea is free from artificial coloring matter, and +that the Chinese, with their usual <emph>imitative</emph> propensity +(exercised, as travelers tell us, in the +manufacture of wooden hams, &c, for exportation), +may prepare an artificial green tea, since +this fetches a higher price than the black? If +this be not the case, then we have a difficulty +in accounting for the <emph>origin</emph> of the green teas; +<q>there must have been green teas for the foreigners +to become acquainted with and acquire a +preference for, or there could not have been a +demand for it.</q> We think Mr. Jameson throws +some additional light on the subject when he remarks, +in the course of his observations on the +manufacture of green tea, <q>To make the bad or +light-colored leaves marketable, they undergo +an artificial process of coloring; but this I have +prohibited, in compliance with the orders of the +Court of Directors, and therefore do not consider +this tea at present fit for the market.</q> In a foot-note +he adds, <q>In China, this process, according +to the statement of the tea-manufacturers, is carried +on to a great extent.</q> Whether the process +of coloring is confined solely to the light-colored +leaves of green tea, or extended to other inferior +sorts, we have no means of judging, amid such +a variety of discordant statements. +</p> + +<p> +After the tea is thoroughly dried, in the manner +above detailed, it is carefully hand-picked, +all the old or badly curled, and also light-colored +leaves being removed, as well as any leaves of +different varieties that may have got intermixed +with it. Being now quite dry, it is ready to be +packed, which is done in a very careful manner. +The woods used for making the boxes in Northern +India (according to Mr. Jameson) are toon, +walnut, and saul (<foreign rend='italic'>Shorea robusta</foreign>), all coniferous +(pine) woods being unfit for the purpose, on account +of their pitchy odor. The tea is firmly +packed in a leaden box, and soldered down, being +covered with paper, to prevent the action of air +through any unobserved holes that might exist in +the lead; this leaden box is contained in the +wooden one, which it is made exactly to fit. +The tea being now ready to go into the hands +of the merchant, we need carry our observations +no farther, as every housewife will know better +than we can tell her how to manage her own +tea-pot. We will, therefore, conclude our remarks +by submitting the following statistical +note of the imports of tea into the United Kingdom +in the year 1846, with the view of showing +its commercial importance— +</p> + +<table rend="latexcolumns: 'p{3.5cm} p{3cm}'; tblcolumns: 'lw(20) rw(20)'"> +<row><cell>Black tea, about</cell><cell>43,000,000 lbs.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Green tea, about</cell><cell>13,000,000 lbs.</cell></row> +<row><cell>Total</cell><cell>56,000,000 lbs.</cell></row> +</table> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Anecdotes Of Dr. Chalmers.</head> + +<p> +Some curious Anecdotes of Dr. Chalmers are +given in the new volume of his life, now on +the point of publication. Immediately upon his +translation to Glasgow a most enthusiastic attachment +sprung up between Chalmers, who +was then some thirty-five years of age, and +Thomas Smith, the son of his publisher, a young +man still in his minority. It was more like a +first love than friendship. The friends met +regularly by appointment, or in case of absence, +daily letters were interchanged. The young +man died in the course of a few months. A +ring containing his hair was given to Chalmers; +and it is noted as a singular fact, showing the +intense and lasting nature of his attachment, that +the ring, after having been long laid aside, was +resumed and worn by him a few months before +his death, a period of more than thirty years.... +</p> + +<pb n='697'/><anchor id='Pg697'/> + +<p> +His keen practical talents did not altogether +shield him from attempts at imposition. <q>On +one occasion,</q> he writes, <q>a porter half-drunk +came up to me, and stated that two men were +wanting to see me. He carried me to a tavern, +where it turned out that there was a wager between +these two men whether this said porter +was correct in his knowledge of me. I was so +revolted at his impertinency, that I made the +ears of all who were in the house ring with a +reproof well said and strong; and so left them +a little astounded, I have no doubt.</q>.... On +another occasion, while busily engaged one forenoon +in his study, he was interrupted by the entrance +of a visitor. The doctor began to look +grave at the interruption; but was propitiated +by his visitor telling him that he called under +great distress of mind. <q>Sit down, sir; be +good enough to be seated,</q> said the doctor, looking +up eagerly, and turning full of interest from +his writing table. The visitor explained to him +that he was troubled with doubts about the Divine +origin of the Christian religion; and being kindly +questioned as to what these were, he gave among +others what is said in the Bible about Melchisedec +being without father and without mother, +&c. Patiently and anxiously Dr. Chalmers sought +to clear away each successive difficulty as it was +stated. Expressing himself as if greatly relieved +in mind, and imagining that he had gained his +end—<q>Doctor,</q> said the visitor, <q>I am in great +want of a little money at present, and perhaps +you could help me in that way</q> At once the +object of his visit was seen. A perfect tornado +of indignation burst upon the deceiver, driving +him in very quick retreat from the study to the +street door, these words escaping among others—<q>Not +a penny, sir! not a penny! It's too +bad! it's too bad! and to haul in your hypocrisy +upon the shoulders of Melchisedek!....</q> A +discussion arose among the superintendents of +his Sabbath-schools whether punishment should +ever be resorted to. One of them related an +instance of a boy whom he had found so restless, +idle, and mischievous, that he was on the point +of expelling him, when the thought occurred to +him to give the boy an office. The candles used +in the school-room were accordingly put under +care of the boy; and from that hour he became +a diligent scholar. Another superintendent then +related his experience. He had been requested +to take charge of a school that had become so +unruly and unmanageable that it had beaten off +every teacher that had gone to it. <q>I went,</q> +said the teacher, <q>and told the boys, whom I +found all assembled, that I had heard a very bad +account of them, that I had come out for the +purpose of doing them good, that I must have +peace and attention, that I would submit to no +disturbance, and that, in the first place, we must +begin with prayer. They all stood up, and I +commenced, and certainly did not forget the injunction—Watch +and pray. I had not proceeded +two sentences, when one little fellow gave his +neighbor a tremendous <emph>dig</emph> in the side; I instantly +stepped forward and gave <emph>him</emph> a sound cuff +on the side of his head. I never spoke a word, +but stepped back, concluded the prayer, taught +for a month, and never had a more orderly +school.</q> Dr. Chalmers enjoyed the discussion +exceedingly; and decided that the question as +to punishment and non-punishment stood just +where it was before, <q>inasmuch as it had been +found that the judicious appointment of candle-snuffer-general +and a good cuff on the <emph>lug</emph> had +been about equally efficacious.</q>.... Among +the most ardent admirers of the doctor's eloquence, +was Mr. Young, professor of Greek. +Upon one occasion, he was so electrified that he +leaped up from his seat upon the bench near the +pulpit, and stood, breathless and motionless, +gazing at the preacher till the burst was over, +the tears all the while came rolling down his +cheeks. Upon another occasion, forgetful of +time and place—fancying himself perhaps in the +theatre—he rose and made a loud clapping of +his hands in an ecstasy of admiration and delight.... +He was no exception to the saying +that a prophet is not without honor save +among his own countrymen. When he preached +in London his own brother James never went to +hear him. One day, at the coffee-house which +he frequented, the brother was asked by some +one who was ignorant of the relationship, if he +had heard this wonderful countryman and namesake +of his, <q>Yes,</q> said James, somewhat drily, +<q>I have heard him.</q> <q>And what did you think +of him?</q> <q>Very little indeed,</q> was the reply. +<q>Dear me,</q> exclaimed the inquirer, <q>When +did you hear him?</q> <q>About half an hour after +he was born,</q> was the cool answer of the brother.... +When he preached at his native place, +so strong was the feeling of his father against +attending any but his own parish church, or so +feeble was his desire to hear his son, that, although +the churches of the two parishes of +Eastern and Western Anstruther stood but a +few hundred yards apart, the old man would not +cross the separating <emph>burn</emph> in order to hear him. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>The Pleasures Of Illness. +(From the People's Journal.)</head> + +<p> +Every body knows the pleasures of health; +but there are very few, if any, who can +appreciate those of illness. Doubtless many +people will feel inclined to laugh at the suggestion, +but we beg that we may not be prejudged. +There is positive pleasure to be derived even +from every variety—and there is a choice—of +sickness, if we would only put faith in the idea, +and then strive to realize it. You may smile, +but we are very serious, recollecting especially +that the subject is rather a painful one, for +which reason it behoves us to begin by treating +it philosophically. +</p> + +<p> +The best thing that people can do when they +are suffering pain, either acute or otherwise, is—if +they can not readily overcome it—to endeavor +to forget it; simply because the mere +effort, earnestly made and persevered in, will +materially assist whatever more direct and efficient +<pb n='698'/><anchor id='Pg698'/> +means may be adopted to get rid of it. +Brooding over any bodily suffering only gives it +encouragement, inasmuch as the mind is then +actively assisting the ailment of the body; but +let us make the most of a temporary cessation +from the infliction, and there is a probability of +its being dispelled altogether. Now the pleasure +of getting rid of pain is undeniable, and, +having achieved that, the best thing we can do +to render the cessation permanent is to enjoy a +sound sleep, which, though a very simple and +ordinary gratification at other times, then becomes +an extreme luxury, such, indeed, as we +never should have known except through the +instrumentality of the suffering that preceded it. +The same may be said of many of the remedies +that are used for the alleviation of pain: a hot +bath, local applications of an exceedingly cold +nature, or a delicious draught for cooling fever +and quenching thirst—a draught like that of +hock and soda-water—a draught <q>worthy of +Xerxes, the great king,</q> and not to be equaled +by sherbet <q>sublimed with snow;</q> but then +you must (oh, what a pleasure for a king!) +<q>get very drunk,</q> says Byron, in order thoroughly +to enjoy it. You see our author so +highly appreciated the pleasures of illness that +he actually advises us to make ourselves ill; +and that, too, in a most vulgar and degrading +manner, in order that we may unreservedly +revel in them. But, perhaps, the poet only +meant to satirize the excessive proneness of all +human beings—and kings have been noted for +this quite as much as any—to bring pain upon +themselves by some wanton or provoked indiscretion. +</p> + +<p> +No pleasure can compensate for acute and +long-endured suffering; but in all eases of illness +unattended by pain, the pleasure to be derived +is considerably greater than might be +imagined. In fact, no one ever thinks of being +able to enjoy an illness, for which reason we +shall endeavor to show our readers not only the +practicability of the idea, but how they are to +set about realizing it. Let us take the most +common kind of malady there is unattended by +actual pain, a cold; a cold all over you, as +violent as you please—such, in fact, as is <q>not +to be sneezed at,</q> one that will confine you to +your bed, compel you to take medicine, and restrict +you to broth and barley-water. There +you are, then, ill; happy fellow! very ill! you +have not the least conception how much you +are to be envied. The mere fact of being in +such a condition, renders you an object of anxiety +and interest. Every body in the house is +ready to wait upon you, and all you have to do +is to lie still and enjoy your bed, while other +people are bustling about the house, or out of +doors all day, undergoing the fatigue and irksomeness +of their ordinary avocations. You are +ill—you are to do nothing—not even to get up +to breakfast, but to have it brought to you in +bed; a luxury which it is probable you may +have often been tempted to enjoy in the winter, +though your philosophy enabled you to overcome +it. Now you are not only compelled to indulge +in it, but are made an object of sympathy on +that account; it is so very lamentable to see +you propped up with pillows, and cosily encased +in flannel around the throat and shoulders. +You are not to be hurried over your breakfast, +there is no office to go to; nothing to be +thought of but the enjoyment of your tea and +toast, which you may sip and munch as leisurely +as you please, while reading a magazine or +newspaper. At length breakfast is over, and +you have become tired of reading; down go +the pillows to their usual position, and after +some gentle hand has smoothed and placed +them comfortably, you sink back upon them, +overwhelmed by a most delightful sense of +mental and bodily indolence. What a blessing +it is to have escaped the ordeal of shaving, +even for one morning! only think of that; +and remember also how the warmth of the +bed will encourage the growth of your beard, +compelling you of course to send for the barber +when you have got well enough to leave your +room again. Hark! there's a knock at the +door—somebody you don't want to see, probably; +<q>Master's very poorly, and obliged to keep +his bed.</q> Ha! ha! Keep his bed, eh?—no +such thing; it's the bed that keeps him—snug +and warm, and in a blessed state of exemption +from all annoyances, and you must not be subjected +to any such infliction; no, you are very +ill. You abandon yourself to the idea, nestle +your head luxuriously in the pillow, pull the bed +clothes over your chin, and fall into a delightful +dose. You awake feverish, perhaps, and thirsty. +Well, there is some barley-water at your bedside, +delicately flavored with a little lemon juice +and sugar; a sort of primitive punch, pleasant +to the palate, and not at all likely to prove provocative +of headache. You raise a tumblerful +to your lips, and drink with intense <emph>gusto</emph>. What +a pleasure it is! well worth coming into the +world to enjoy, if one was to die the next minute; +but you are not going to die yet, don't suppose +it—you are only being favored with an opportunity +of enjoying the pleasures of illness. But +you are so feverish, you say; so much the better. +Now, just endeavor to recall to mind the wildest +fiction, either in prose or poetry that you have +ever read, something very pleasing and highly +imaginative—a fairy tale will be as good as any. +Go to sleep thinking of it, and you will dream—dream, +said we? we were wrong, for the fiction +will become a glorious reality; and so it does! +but, alas! you awake, once more return to the +vulgar commonplaces of mundane existence. +A sharp rap at the bedroom door makes you +farther conscious that you have only been reveling +in what is termed a delusion; but never +mind, here comes some one to console you—another +corporeality like yourself, intent on feeding +you with chicken-broth, and batter-pudding; +much more substantial fare than the fairies would +have given you, and extremely enjoyable now +that you are ill, though at any other time you +would have turned up your nose at it. Oh, it's +<pb n='699'/><anchor id='Pg699'/> +a fine thing is illness for teaching people not to +let the palate become irritated by luxurious +living! <q>Very nice,</q> eh, <q>but you would +have liked a basin of mulligatawny better, and +some wine-sauce with the pudding?</q> Shocking +depravity! the pleasures of illness are simple, +and you must learn to enjoy <emph>them</emph> as well as +those of health; it's all habit. Many medicines +would be found extremely palatable if we were not +prejudiced against them. Now, black draughts, +you <q>can't bear them;</q> and yet they are much +nicer than castor-oil. Why, what's the matter? +you've upset all the broth over that beautifully +white counterpane! Delicate stomach, yours, +very. Come, try the pudding; and don't let +your imagination combine any medicinal sauce +with it. You have eaten it all; that's right. +Now, allow us to suggest that a little very ripe +fruit will not hurt you—an orange, or some +strawberries if in season. But you must not lie +there and allow your mind to get either into a +wearisome state of vacuity or unpleasant reflection. +Send for a book from the library—some +novel that you have never read; and if it is too +much trouble to read it yourself, get some one +to read it to you. It is a capital plan always to +endeavor to forget an illness by means of some +quiet and absorbing enjoyment. You are fond +of music, for instance; and if you hear any good +band strike up in the street we recommend you +by all means to detain them. You will get up, +perhaps, in the evening, and prepare yourself +for a refreshing night's rest by having your bed +made; should a friend drop in who can give you +a game of chess or cribbage be sure to avail +yourself of the opportunity, if you feel inclined +for such recreation. Do not sit up late, or get +into any exciting conversation; but go calmly +and quietly to bed, take your basin of gruel, +swallow your pills, lay your head on the pillow, +and go to sleep. To-morrow it is most probable +that you will be well, or only sufficiently indisposed +to render it prudent that you should stop +at home, when you will indulge in a stronger +and more relishing diet; pass the day in a dreamy +state of inactivity, or enjoy yourself vivaciously +in any reasonable manner you may think +proper. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps, gentle reader, you may have endured +prolonged and severe attacks of bodily +suffering—perhaps you will tell us that we have +not been depicting illness at all, but merely indisposition. +You would have had us pick out +from the pages of the <q>Lancet</q> a thrilling account +of torture under the knife, and then made +us rack our ingenuity to discover, if possible, +some pleasure contingent upon that. You might +as well expect us to write an article on the +pleasure of being hanged. We will, however, +say this much as regards every degree of illness: +that there is scarcely any that does not admit of +some mitigating gratification. The mere circumstance +of being watched and most carefully +tended by those we love, the kindness with which +they bear our peevishness, and the desire they +display to do every thing they can either to +alleviate our pain or to conduce to our convalescence, +are pleasures such as illness alone can +afford, and must ever merit the highest appreciation, +not only because we either are or ought +to be duly impressed with them at the time, but +for the farther and more substantial reason that +they become delightful reminiscences and bonds +of affection forever after. It is an excellent +thing, morally and socially, is illness, and only +requires that we endeavor to make the best instead +of the worst of it; and therein lies the +whole serious purport of this paper, which we +have thought fit to write in as light a style as +possible, knowing that the subject, though interesting +to all, is very far from being generally +palatable. +</p> + +</div> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Obstructions To The Use Of The +Telescope.</head> + +<p> +It has been long known, both from theory and +in practice, that the imperfect transparency +of the earth's atmosphere, and the unequal refraction +which arises from differences of temperature, +combine to set a limit to the use of high +magnifying powers in our telescopes. Hitherto, +however, the application of such high powers was +checked by the imperfections of the instruments +themselves; and it is only since the construction +of Lord Rosse's telescope that astronomers have +found that, in our damp and variable climate, it +is only during a few days of the year that telescopes +of such magnitude can use successfully +the high magnifying powers which they are +capable of bearing. Even in a cloudless sky, +when the stars are sparkling in the firmament, +the astronomer is baffled by influences which +are invisible, and while new planets and new +satellites are being discovered by instruments +comparatively small, the gigantic Polyphemus +lies slumbering in his cave, blinded by thermal +currents, more irresistible than the firebrand of +Ulysses. As the astronomer, however, can not +command a tempest to clear his atmosphere, nor +a thunder storm to purify it, his only alternative +is to remove his telescope to some southern +climate, where no clouds disturb the serenity +of the firmament, and no changes of temperature +distract the emanations of the stars. A fact has +been recently mentioned, which entitles us to +anticipate great results from such a measure. +The Marquis of Ormonde is said to have seen +from Mount Etna, with his naked eye, the satellites +of Jupiter. If this be true, what discoveries +may we not expect, even in Europe, from a large +reflector working above the grosser strata of our +atmosphere. This noble experiment of sending +a large reflector to a southern climate has been +but once made in the history of science. Sir +John Herschel transported his telescopes and his +family to the south of Africa, and during a voluntary +exile of four years' duration he enriched +astronomy with many splendid discoveries.—<hi rend='italic'>Sir +David Brewster</hi>. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='700'/><anchor id='Pg700'/> + +<div> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Monthly Record Of Current Events.</head> + +<p> +The Political Incidents of the past month have +been interesting and important. Congress, +after spending eight or nine months in most +animated discussion of the principles, results, +and relations of various subjects growing out of +Slavery in the Southern States, has enacted several +provisions of very great importance to the +whole country. The debates upon these topics, +especially in the Senate, have been exceedingly +able, and have engrossed public attention to an +unusual degree. The excitement which animated +the members of Congress gradually extended +to those whom they represented, and a +state of feeling had arisen which was regarded, +by many judicious and experienced men, as full +of danger to the harmony and well-being, if not +to the permanent existence, of the American +Union. The action of Congress during the +month just closed, concludes the controversy +upon these questions, and for the time, at least, +prevents vigorous and effective agitation of the +principles which they involved. What that +action has been we shall state with as much +detail and precision as our readers will desire. +</p> + +<p> +In the last number of the <hi rend='smallcaps'>New Monthly +Magazine</hi>, we chronicled the action of the +Senate upon several of the bills now referred to. +They were sent of course to the House of Representatives, +and that body first took up the +bill establishing the boundary of Texas, and +giving her ten millions of dollars in payment of +her claim to the portion of New Mexico which +the bill requires her to relinquish. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Boyd</hi>, +of Kentucky, moved as an amendment, to attach +to it the bills for the government of Utah and +New Mexico, substantially as they had passed +the Senate, both being without any anti-slavery +proviso. He subsequently withdrew that portion +of the amendment relating to Utah; and +an effort was made by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Ashmun</hi> to cut off +the remainder of the amendment by the previous +question, but the House refused by a vote +of 74 ayes to 107 nays. The subject was discussed +with a good deal of animation for several +days. On the 4th of September, a motion +to lay the bill on the table was defeated—ayes +30, nays 169. A motion to refer the bill to the +Committee of the Whole, which was considered +equivalent to its rejection, was then carried—ayes +109, nays 99;—but a motion to reconsider +that vote was immediately passed—ayes 104, +nays 98;—and the House then refused to refer +the bill to the Committee of the Whole by a +vote of 101 ayes and 103 nays. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Clingman</hi>, +of North Carolina, moved an amendment to +divide California, and erect the southern part of +it into the territory of Colorado;—but this was +rejected—ayes 69, nays 130. The question +was then taken on the amendment, organizing +a territorial government for New Mexico, and +was lost—ayes 98, nays 106. The question +then came up on ordering the Texas Boundary +bill to a third reading, and the House refused +to do so by a vote of 80 ayes and 126 nays. +Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Boyd</hi> immediately moved to reconsider +that vote, and on the 5th that motion passed—ayes +131, nays 75. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Grinell</hi>, of Massachusetts +then moved to reconsider the vote by +which Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Boyd's</hi> amendment had been rejected, +and this was carried by a vote of 106 to 99. +An amendment, offered by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Featherston</hi>, +of Virginia, to strike out all after the enacting +clause, and to make the Rio Grande, from its +mouth to its source, the boundary of Texas, +was rejected by a vote of 71 in favor to 128 +against it. The amendment of Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Boyd</hi> was +then passed by a vote of 106 ayes and 99 noes; +and the question was then taken on ordering +the bill, as amended, to a third reading. It was +lost by a vote of 99 ayes to 107 noes. Mr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Howard</hi>, of Texas, who had voted against the +bill, immediately moved a reconsideration of +the vote. The Speaker decided that the motion +was not in order, inasmuch as a reconsideration +had once been had. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Howard</hi> appealed +from the decision, and contended that the former +vote was simply to reconsider the vote on the +original bill, whereas this was to reconsider the +vote on the bill as amended by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Boyd</hi>.—On +the fifth, the House reversed the Speaker's decision, +123 to 83,—thus bringing up again the +proposition to order the bill to a third reading. +Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Howard</hi> moved the previous question, and +his motion was sustained, 103 to 91;—and the +bill was then ordered to a third reading by a +vote of 108 to 98. The bill was then read a +third time, and finally passed by a vote of 108 +ayes to 98 nays.—As this bill is one of marked +importance, we add, as a matter of record, the +following analysis of the vote upon it:—the +names of Democrats are in Roman letter, Whigs +in italics, and members of the Free Soil party +in small capitals:— +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ayes</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Indiana</hi>, Albertson, W.J. Brown, Dunham, +Fitch, Gorman, McDonald, Robinson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Alabama</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Alston</hi>, +W.R.W. Cobb, <hi rend='italic'>Hilliard</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tennessee</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Anderson</hi>, Ewing, +<hi rend='italic'>Gentry</hi>, I.G. Harris, A. Johnson, Jones, Savage, F.P. +Stanton, Thomas, <hi rend='italic'>Watkins, Williams</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New YORK</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Anrews, +Bokee, Briggs, Brooks, Duer, McKissock, Nelson, +Phænix, Rose, Schermerhorn, Thurman, Underhill, White</hi>—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Iowa</hi>, +Leffler.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rhode-Island</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Geo. G. King</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Missouri</hi>, +Bay, Bowlin, Green, Hall.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Virginia</hi>, Bayly, +Beale, Edmunson, <hi rend='italic'>Haymond</hi>, McDowell, McMullen, <hi rend='italic'>Martin</hi>, +Parker.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Kentucky</hi>, Boyd, <hi rend='italic'>Breck</hi>, G.A. Caldwell, <hi rend='italic'>J.L. +Johnson, Marshall</hi>, Mason, <hi rend='italic'>McLean, Morehead</hi>, R.H. +Stanton, <hi rend='italic'>John B. Thompson</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Maryland</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Bowie</hi>, Hammond, +<hi rend='italic'>Kerr</hi>, McLane.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Michigan</hi>, Buel.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Florida</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>E.C. +Cabell</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Delaware</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>J.W. Houston</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pennsylvania</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Chester Butler, Casey, Chandler</hi>, Dimmick, Gilmore, <hi rend='italic'>Levin</hi>, +Job Mann, McLanahan, <hi rend='italic'>Pitman</hi>, Robbins, Ross, Strong, +<pb n='701'/><anchor id='Pg701'/> +James Thompson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>North Carolina</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>R.C. Caldwell</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Deherry</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Outlaw</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Shepperd</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Stanly</hi>.—Ohio, Disney, Hoagland, +Potter, <hi rend='italic'>Taylor</hi>, Whittlesey.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Massachusetts</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Duncan</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Eliot</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Grinnell</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Maine</hi>, Fuller, Gerry, Littlefield.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Illinois</hi>, +Thomas L. Harris, McClernand, Richardson, +Young.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New-Hampshire</hi>, Hibbard, Peaslee, <hi rend='italic'>Wilson</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Texas</hi>, +Howard, Kaufman.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Georgia</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Owen</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Toombs</hi>, +Welborn.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New Jersey</hi>, Wildrick. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nays</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New York</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Alexander</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Bennett</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Burrows</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Clark</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Conger</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Gott</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Holloway</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>W.T. Jackson</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>John A. +King</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Preston King</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Matteson</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Putnam</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Reynolds</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Ramsey</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Sackett</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Schoolcraft</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Silvester</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Massachusetts</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Allen</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Fowler</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Horace Mann</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Rockwell</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>North Carolina</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Clingman</hi>, Daniel, Venable.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Virginia</hi>, Averett, Holiday, +Mead, Millson, Powell, Seddon.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Illinois</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Baker</hi>, Wentworth.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Michigan</hi>, +Bingham, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Sprague</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Alabama</hi>, Bowdon, +S.W. Harris, Hubbard, Inge.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Mississippi</hi>, A.G. +Brown, Featherston, McWillie, Jacob Thompson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>South +Carolina</hi>, Burt, Colcock, Holmes, Orr, Wallace, Woodward, +McQueen.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Connecticut</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Thomas B. Butler</hi>, Waldo, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Booth</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ohio</hi>, Cable, <hi rend='italic'>Campbell</hi>, Cartter, <hi rend='italic'>Corwin</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Crowell</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Nathan Evans</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Giddings</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Hunter</hi>, Morris, Olds, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Root</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Schenck</hi>, Sweetzer, <hi rend='italic'>Vinton</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Pennsylvania</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Calvin</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Dickey</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Howe</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Moore</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Ogle</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Reed</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Thaddeus Stevens</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Wisconsin</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Cole</hi>, Doty, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Durkee</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Rhode Island</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Dìxon</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Georgia</hi>, Haralson, Jos. W. Jackson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Indiana</hi>, +Harlan, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Julian</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>McGaughey</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Vermont</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Hebard</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Henry</hi>, +<hi rend='italic'>Meacham</hi>, Peck.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Arkansas</hi>, Robert W. Johnson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New +Jersey</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>James G. King</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Newell</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Van Dyke</hi>.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Louisiana</hi>, +La Sere, Morse.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Maine</hi>, <hi rend='italic'>Otis</hi>, Sawtelle, Stetson.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Missouri</hi>, +Phelps.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>New Hampshire</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>TUCK</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +This analysis shows that there voted +</p> + +<p> +For The Bill:<lb/> +Northern Whigs: 24<lb/> +Southern Whigs: 25-49<lb/> +Northern Democrats: 32<lb/> +Southern Democrats: 27-59<lb/> +Total: 108. +</p> + +<p> +Against The Bill:<lb/> +Northern Whigs: 44<lb/> +Southern Whigs: 1-45<lb/> +Northern Democrats: 13<lb/> +Southern Democrats: 30-43<lb/> +Total: 98. +</p> + +<p> +The bill thus passed in the House was sent +to the Senate; and on the 9th that body, by a +vote of 31 to 10, concurred in the amendment +which the House had made to it; and it became, +by the signature of the President, the +law of the land. +</p> + +<p> +On Saturday the 7th, the House took up the +bill from the Senate admitting California into +the Union. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Thompson</hi>, of Mississippi, +moved an amendment, making the parallel of +36° 30' the southern boundary of California, +which was rejected—yeas 71, nays 134. The +main question was then taken, and the bill, admitting +California, passed—yeas 150, nays 56.—On +the same day the bill from the Senate +organizing a territorial government for Utah +was taken up, and Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Wentworth</hi>, of Illinois, +moved to amend it by inserting a clause prohibiting +the existence of slavery within the territory. +This was lost—ayes 69, nays 78. Mr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fitch</hi>, of Indiana, moved an amendment, declaring +that the Mexican law prohibiting slavery, +should remain in full force in the territory: +after some discussion this was rejected—ayes +51, nays 85. Several other amendments were +introduced and lost, and the bill finally passed +by a vote of 97 ayes and 85 nays. +</p> + +<p> +The bill to facilitate the recovery of Fugitive +slaves was taken up in the Senate on the 20th +of August. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Dayton</hi> submitted an amendment +providing for a trial by jury of the question, +whether the person who may be claimed, is +or is not a fugitive slave. After some debate, +the amendment was rejected by a vote of ayes +11, nays 27, as follows: +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ayes</hi>—Messrs. Chase, Davis of Massachusetts, Dayton, +Dodge of Wisconsin, Greene, Hamlin, Phelps, Smith, +Upham, Walker, Winthrop—11. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nays</hi>.—Messrs. Atchison, Badger, Barnwell, Benton, +Berrien, Butler, Cass, Davis of Mississippi, Dawson, +Dodge of Iowa, Downs, Houston, Jones, King, Mangum, +Mason, Morton, Pratt, Rusk, Sebastian, Soulé, Sturgeon, +Turney, Underwood, Wales, and Yulee—27. +</p> + +<p> +On the 22d, Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Pratt</hi>, of Maryland, submitted +an amendment, the effect of which would +have been to make the United States responsible +in damages for fugitive slaves that might not be +recovered. This was rejected by a vote of 10 +to 27. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Davis</hi>, of Massachusetts, offered +an amendment extending the right of <hi rend='italic'>habeas +corpus</hi> to free colored citizens arriving in vessels +at Southern ports, who may be imprisoned there +without any alleged offense against the law. +This amendment, after debate, was rejected—ayes +13, nays 25. The original bill was then +ordered to a third reading by a vote of 27 ayes +to 12 nays, as follows: +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ayes</hi>.—Messrs. Atchison, Badger, Barnwell, Bell, Berrien, +Butler, Davis of Mississippi, Dawson, Dodge of Iowa, +Downs, Foote, Houston, Hunter, Jones, King, Mangum, +Mason, Pearce, Rusk, Sebastian, Soulé, Spruance, Sturgeon, +Turney, Underwood, Wales, and Yulee—27. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nays</hi>.—Messrs. Baldwin, Bradbury, Chase, Cooper, +Davis of Massachusetts, Dayton, Dodge of Wisconsin, +Greene, Smith, Upham, Walker, and Winthrop—12. +</p> + +<p> +On the 26th the bill had its third reading and +was finally passed. On the 12th of September +the House of Representatives took up the bill, +and after some slight debate, passed it, under +the operation of the previous question, by a vote +of 109 ayes to 75 nays. +</p> + +<p> +On the 3d of September the Senate proceeded +to the consideration of the bill abolishing the +Slave-trade in the District of Columbia. Mr +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Foote</hi> of Mississippi offered a substitute placing +the control of the whole matter in the hands of +the Corporate Authorities of Washington and +Georgetown. To this Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Pearce</hi> of Maryland, +in committee of the whole, moved an amendment +punishing by fine and imprisonment any +person who shall induce or attempt to induce +slaves to run away, and giving the corporate +authorities power to remove free negroes from +the District. The first portion of the amendment +was passed, ayes 26, nays 15, and the +second ayes 24, nays 18. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Foote</hi> then +withdrew his substitute.—On the 10th the +consideration of the bill was resumed. Mr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Seward</hi> moved to substitute a bill abolishing +Slavery in the District of Columbia and appropriating +$200,000 to indemnify the owners of +slaves who might thus be enfranchised—the +claims to be audited and adjusted by the Secretary +of the Interior: and submitting the law to +the people of the District. The amendment +<pb n='702'/><anchor id='Pg702'/> +gave rise to a warm debate and on the 12th +was rejected, ayes 5, nays 46. The amendments +offered by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Pearce</hi>, and passed in +committee of the whole, were non-concurred in +by the Senate on the 14th, and the bill on the +same day was ordered to be engrossed for a third +reading, by a vote of 32 to 19. On the 16th it +was read a third time and finally passed, ayes +33, nays 19, as follows: +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ayes</hi>.—Messrs. Baldwin, Benton, Bright, Cass, Chase, +Clarke, Clay, Cooper, Davis of Mass., Dayton, Dickinson, +Dodge of Wisconsin, Dodge of Iowa, Douglas, Ewing, +Felch, Frémont, Greene, Gwin, Hale, Hamlin, Houston, +Jones, Norris, Seward, Shields, Spruance, Sturgeon, Underwood, +Wales, Walker, Whitcomb, and Winthrop—33. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Nays</hi>.—Messrs. Atchison, Badger, Barnwell, Bell, Berrien, +Butler, Davis of Mississippi, Dawson, Downs, Hunter, +King, Mangum, Mason, Morton, Pratt, Sebastian, Soulé, +Turney, and Yulee—19. +</p> + +<p> +It was taken up in the House of Representatives +on the 15th and passed by a vote of 124 to 47. +</p> + +<p> +By the action of Congress during the past +month, therefore, bills have been passed upon +all the topics which have agitated the country +during the year. The bill in regard to the +Texas boundary provides that the northern line +shall run on the line of 36° 30' from the meridian +of 100° to 103° of west longitude—thence +it shall run south to the 32d parallel of latitude, +and on that parallel to the Rio del Norte, and +in the channel of that river thence to its mouth. +The State of Texas is to cede to the United +States all claims to the territory north of that +line, and to relinquish all claim for liability for +her debts, &c., and is to receive from the United +States as a consideration the sum of ten millions +of dollars. The law will, of course, have no +validity unless assented to by the State of Texas. +No action upon this subject has been taken by +her authorities. Previous to the passage of the +bill, the Legislature of the State met in special +session called by Governor <hi rend='smallcaps'>Bell</hi>, and received +from him a long and elaborate message in regard +to the attempt made, under his direction, to extend +the laws and jurisdiction of Texas over the Santa +Fé district of New Mexico, and to the resistance +which he had met from the authorities of the +Federal Government. After narrating the circumstances +of the case, he urges the necessity +of asserting, promptly and by force, the claim +of Texas to the territory in question. He recommends +the enactment of laws authorizing the +Executive to raise and maintain two regiments +of mounted volunteers for the Expedition. A bill +was introduced in conformity with this recommendation; +but of its fate no reliable intelligence +has yet been received.—A resolution was introduced +into the Texas Legislature calling upon +the governor for copies of any correspondence +he might have had with other states of the Confederacy, +but it was not passed. A letter has +been published from General <hi rend='smallcaps'>Quitman</hi>, Governor +of Mississippi, stating that in case of a +collision between the authorities of Texas and +those of the United States, he should deem it +his duty to aid the former.—Hon. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Thos. J. +Rusk</hi>, whose term as U.S. Senator expires with +the present session, has been re-elected by the +Legislature of Texas receiving 56 out of 64 +votes. He voted in favor of the bill of adjustment, +and his re-election by so large a majority +is looked upon as indicating a disposition on the +part of the authorities to accept the terms proposed.—Both +Houses of Congress have agreed +to adjourn on the 30th of September. +</p> + +<p> +Intelligence from the Mexican Boundary +Commission has been received to the 31st of +August, on which day they were at Indianola, +Texas. There was some sickness among the +members of the corps, but every thing looked +promising.—Hon. <hi rend='smallcaps'>William Duer</hi>, member of +Congress from the Oswego District, New York, +has declined a re-election, in a letter in which +he vindicates the bills passed by Congress, and +earnestly urges his constituents not to encourage +or permit any further agitation among them +of questions connected with slavery. Hon. <hi rend='smallcaps'>E.G. +Spaulding</hi>, from the Erie District, and Hon. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>George Ashmun</hi>, of Massachusetts, also decline +a re-election.—Captain <hi rend='smallcaps'>Ammin Bey</hi>, of the +Turkish Navy, arrived at New York on the +13th, in the United States ship Erie, being sent +out by his Government as special Commissioner +to collect information and make personal observations +of the character, resources, and condition +of the United States. He is a gentleman +of ability, education, and experience and has +been employed by his Government on various +confidential missions. He was the secret agent +of Turkey on the frontiers of Hungary during +the recent struggle of that gallant people with +Austria and Russia. He has been warmly +received here, and enjoys every facility for +prosecuting the objects of his mission. Congress +has appropriated $10,000 toward defraying +the expenses of his mission.—Hon. A.H.H. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Stuart</hi>, of Virginia, has been appointed +Secretary of the Interior, to fill the vacancy +caused by the resignation of Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>M'Kennan</hi>. +He has accepted the appointment and entered +upon the duties of the office. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>M'Kennan</hi> +resigned on finding, from an experience of a +day, that his health was not adequate to the +performance of the duties of the place. Mr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Stuart</hi> has been a member of Congress, where +he was universally recognized as a man of +ability, assiduity, and character.—Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Conrad</hi>, +of Louisiana, on accepting the office of +Secretary of War, addressed a letter to his constituents, +explaining and justifying the course +he had taken in Congress. He said that opinions +on the subject of the extension of slavery +might be classified as follows: 1. There are +those who seek, through the direct agency of +the Federal Government, to introduce slavery +into this territory. 2. Those who wish, by the +same means, to prevent this introduction. 3. +Those who resist any interference with the +question by the Federal Government, and would +leave to the inhabitants of the country the exclusive +right to decide it. He claims to belong +to the latter class. The Union, he says, is too +<pb n='703'/><anchor id='Pg703'/> +great a blessing to be staked upon any game of +hazard, and the prolongation of the controversy +upon the subject of slavery, he deems in itself a +calamity <q>It alarms the South and agitates +the North; it alienates each from the other, and +augments the number and influence of those +who wage an endless war against slavery, and +whom this discussion has raised to a political +importance which, without it, they never could +have attained.</q>—Dr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Henry Nes</hi>, member +of Congress from the Fifteenth District of Pennsylvania, +died at his residence in York on the +10th.—Several American citizens residing in +Paris, having observed in the London papers an +account of a gross insult said to have been offered +to Hon. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Barringer</hi>, United States Minister +at Madrid, by General <hi rend='smallcaps'>Narvaez</hi> at Naples, +wrote to him, assuring him of the cordial response +upon which he might count to such +measures of redress as he should choose to +adopt. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Barringer</hi> replied by declaring +the whole story to be false in every particular. +In all his personal and official intercourse with +him, he says, General <hi rend='smallcaps'>Narvaez</hi> had been most +courteous and respectful.—An election for +state officers was held in Vermont on the first +Tuesday of September, which resulted in the +choice of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Charles R. Williams</hi> (Whig) for +Governor, and the re-election of Hon. Messrs. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Hebard</hi> and <hi rend='smallcaps'>Meacham</hi> to Congress, from +the Second and Third Districts. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Thomas Bartlett</hi>, +jun., Democrat, was elected in the Fourth +District, and no choice was effected in the First.—Professor +<hi rend='smallcaps'>J.W. Webster</hi> was executed +at Boston on the 30th of August, pursuant to +his sentence, for the murder of Dr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Parkman</hi>. +He died with great firmness and composure, +professing and evincing the most heartfelt penitence +for his crime.—Intelligence has been +received of the death of the Reverend <hi rend='smallcaps'>Adoniram +Judson, D.D.</hi>, who is known to all the +world as the oldest and one of the most laborious +missionaries in foreign lands. He left +the United States for Calcutta in 1812, and has +devoted the whole of his life since that time to +making Christianity known in Burmah. He +translated the Bible into the language of the +country, besides compiling a Dictionary of it, and +performing an immense amount of other literary +labor in addition to the regular preaching of the +gospel and the discharge of other pastoral duties. +He returned to this country in 1847, and married +Miss Emily Chubbuck, with whom he soon +returned to his field of labor. His health for +the past few months has been gradually declining, +and during the last spring it had become so +seriously impaired that a sea voyage was deemed +essential to its restoration. He accordingly +embarked on board the French bark, Aristide +Marie, for the Isle of Bourbon, on the 3d of +April; but his disease made rapid advances, +and after several days of intense agony, he died +on the 12th, and his body was committed to the +deep on the next day. Dr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Judson</hi> was attached +to the Baptist Church, but his memory will +be held in the profoundest veneration, as his +labors have been cheered and sustained, by +Christians of all denominations. He was a man +of ability, of learning, and of intense devotion to +the welfare of his fellow-men.—Bishop <hi rend='smallcaps'>H.B. +Bascom</hi>, of the Methodist Episcopal Church +South, died at Louisville, Ky., on the 8th of +September, after an illness of some months' +continuance. He was in many respects one of +the most influential and distinguished members +of the large denomination to which he belonged. +He enjoyed a very wide reputation for eloquence +and was universally regarded, by all who ever +heard him, as one of the most brilliant and +effective of American orators. His person was +large and commanding, his voice sonorous and +musical, and his manner exceedingly impressive. +His style was exceedingly florid, and elaborate, +and his discourses abounded in the most adventurous +flights of fancy and imagination. He +shared the merits and the faults of what is generally +and pretty correctly known as the Southern +and Western style of eloquence, and always +spoke with great effect. His labors in the service +of the church have been long, arduous, and +successful. He has exerted a wide influence +and has exerted it in behalf of the noblest and +most important of all interests. His death occasions +profound and universal regret.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>John +Inman</hi>, Esq., favorably known to the country as +a literary man, and as editor of the New York +<hi rend='italic'>Commercial Advertiser</hi>, died at his residence in +New York, on the 30th of August, after a lingering +illness of several months. Mr. Inman +was educated for the bar, and practiced law for +some years in New York; but left the profession +for the more congenial labors of literature. He +was engaged for some years upon the New +York Mirror, and soon after became associated +with Colonel <hi rend='smallcaps'>Stone</hi>, in the editorial conduct +of the Commercial. Upon the death of that +gentleman in 1847, Mr. Inman became the +principal editor, and held that post, discharging +its duties with ability, skill, and unwearied assiduity, +until failing health compelled him to relinquish +it during the last spring. He wrote +frequently for the reviews and magazines, and +sustained confidential relations, as critic and +literary adviser, to the house of Harper and +Brothers. He was a man of decided talent, of +extensive information, great industry and of unblemished +character. He died at the age of 47. +</p> + +<p> +The most exciting event of the month has +been the arrival of the celebrated Swedish +vocalist, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jenny Lind</hi>. She reached New York +in the Steamer <hi rend='italic'>Atlantic</hi> on the 1st of September, +and was received by a demonstration of +popular enthusiasm which has seldom been +equaled in this country. More than twenty +thousand people gathered upon the wharf where +she landed, and crowded the streets through +which she passed. She gave her first concert +at Castle Garden, in New York, on the evening +of the 12th, and this was rapidly followed by +five others at the same place. The number of +persons present on each occasion could not have +<pb n='704'/><anchor id='Pg704'/> +been less then seven thousand. The receipts +on the first night were about thirty thousand +dollars, and <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jenny Lind</hi> immediately bestowed +ten thousand upon several of the worthiest charities +of New York City. The enthusiasm which +she excites seems fully justified not more by +her superiority as an artist than by her personal +qualities and character. Of her life a brief but +spirited sketch, from the graceful pen of her +distinguished countrywoman, Miss <hi rend='smallcaps'>Bremer</hi>, +will be found in another part of this Magazine. +Her charities are already well known and honored +wherever there are hearts to glow at deeds +of enlightened benevolence. A young woman, +who has not yet seen thirty years, she has already +bestowed upon benevolent objects half a +million of dollars, not inherited or won at a +throw, but the fruit of a life of severe and disheartening +toil, and has appropriated to the +benefit of her native country the profits which +she will reap from the willing soil of America. +As an artist she has powers which are met +with but once or twice in a generation. Her +voice is in itself a wonder, and unlike most +wonders is beautiful to a degree which causes +those who come under its influence to forget +surprise in pleasure. It is compared to all +things beautiful under the sun by those whose +grateful task it is to set its attractions forth in +detail: to the flood of melody from the nightingale's +throat, to light, to water which flows +from a pure and inexhaustible spring. We shall +be content to say that it appears to us almost +the ideal of a beautiful sound. It would puzzle +the nicest epicure of the ear, we think, to say +in what respect he would have its glorious +quality modified. He might object possibly at +first to the slightest shade of huskiness which +appears sometimes in its lower tones, or to an +equally slight sharpness in the very highest, but +if he listened long he would surely forget to +object. The purely musical quality of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jenny +Lind's</hi> voice is its crowning charm and excellence, +in comparison with which its great extent, +brilliance, and acquired flexibility are of +but secondary worth. Its lowest tone can be +felt at a distance and above, or rather through, +all noisy obstacles and surroundings, whether +they be vocal or instrumental. Another of its +chief charms is its seeming inexhaustibility. It +pours forth in a pellucid flood of sound, and +always produces the impression that there is +more yet, amply more, to meet all the demands +of the singer. +</p> + +<p> +M'lle <hi rend='smallcaps'>Lind's</hi> vocalization is to the ordinary +ear beyond criticism. Her intended effects are +so completely attained, and attained with such +apparent ease and consciousness of power, that +the hearer does not think of questioning whether +they could be better in themselves or better +performed, but gives himself up to this unalloyed +enjoyment. Her intervals are taken with +a certainty and firmness which can not be attained +by an instrument, so nicely, so rigidly +accurate is her ear, and so absolute is her +power over her organ. Her abilities have been +best displayed in the first <hi rend='italic'>aria</hi> sung by the +Queen of Night in <hi rend='smallcaps'>Mozart's</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Zauberflöte</hi>, +and by a taking Swedish Herdsman's Song. In the +former she vocalizes freely above the lines for +many bars, and in one passage takes the astonishing +note F <hi rend='italic'>in alt</hi>. with perfect intonation. In +the latter, which contains some very difficult +and unmelodic intervals, her performance is +marked with the same ease and accuracy which +appear in her simplest ballad, and the effect of +echo which she produces is to be equaled only +by Nature herself. M'lle <hi rend='smallcaps'>Lind's</hi> shake is probably +the most equal and brilliant ever heard. +There are some critics and amateurs who object +to her manner of delivering her voice and to +her unimpassioned style; but although these +objections seem to have no little weight, their +consideration would involve a deeper investigation +of questions of pure Art than we are at +present prepared for, and are content to offer +our homage, with that of the rest of the world, +to the Genius and Benevolence which are united +in her fascinating, though, we must say, not +beautiful person. +</p> + +<p> +The Gallery of the <hi rend='smallcaps'>American Art-Union</hi> +was re-opened for the season in New York on +the 4th of September, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jenny Lind</hi> honoring +the occasion by her presence. The collection +is unusually large and excellent. It already +numbers over 300 pictures, several of which +are among the best productions of their authors. +The number and variety of works of art to be +distributed among the members at the coming +anniversary will be greater than ever before. +The rapid and wonderful growth of this institution +is in the highest degree honorable to the +country, and affords marked evidence of the +energy and spirit with which its affairs have +been conducted. We understand that the subscription +list is already larger by some thousands +than ever before at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +The <hi rend='smallcaps'>Literary Intelligence</hi> of the month +is devoid of any features of startling interest. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>G.P.R. James, Esq.</hi> has commenced in Boston +a series of six Lectures upon the History of +Civilization, and will probably repeat them in +New York and other American cities. The +subject is one with which Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>James</hi> has made +himself familiar in the ordinary course of his +studies for his historical novels; and he will +undoubtedly bring to its methodical discussion +a clear and sound judgment, liberal views, and +his characteristic felicity and picturesqueness +of description and narrative. The lectures are +new, and are delivered for the first time in this +country.—All who are interested in Classical +Education will welcome the appearance of the +edition of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Freund's</hi> Lexicon of the Latin Language, +upon which Professor <hi rend='smallcaps'>Andrews</hi> has +been engaged for several years. The original +work consists of four octavo volumes, averaging +about 1100 pages each, which were eleven +years in passing through the press, viz., from +1834 to 1845. By the adoption of various typographical +expedients, such as adding another +<pb n='705'/><anchor id='Pg705'/> +column to the page, and using smaller type, +the whole will be comprised in a single volume, +an improvement which, while it diminishes the +cost, adds greatly to the convenience with which +it may be used. This Lexicon is intended to +give an account of all the Latin words found in +the writings of the Romans from the earliest +times to the fall of the Western Empire, as +well as those from the Greek and other languages. +The grammatical inflexions, both +regular and irregular, of each word, are accurately +pointed out; and the etymologies are +made to embrace the results of modern scholarship +in that department as specifically applicable +to the Latin language, without invading +the proper province of comparative philology. +To the definitions, as the most important department +of lexicography, particular attention +has been given; and the primary, the transferred, +the tropical, and the proverbial uses of +words are carefully arranged in the order of +their development; the shades of difference in +the meanings and uses of synonymous terms are +pointed out. Special attention has been given +to the chronology of words, <hi rend='italic'>i.e.</hi>, to the time +when they were in use, and they are designated +accordingly as belonging to all periods of the +language, or as <q>ante-classic,</q> <q>quite classic,</q> +<q>Ciceronian,</q> <q>Augustan,</q> <q>post-Augustan,</q> +<q>post-classic,</q> or <q>late Latin,</q> as the case +may be. The student is also informed whether +a word is used in prose or poetry, or in both, +whether it is of common or rare occurrence, +&c, &c.; and each of its uses is illustrated +by a copious selection of examples, with a +reference in every instance to the chapter, section, +and verse where found. To those familiar +with the subject, this brief description of the +work will suffice to show its vast superiority +over every dictionary of the Latin language at +present in use among us, and how much may be +expected in aid of the cause of sound learning +from its introduction into our seminaries and colleges. +It will appear from the press of the Harpers +very soon.—<q>The History of the United +States of America, from the adoption of the +Federal Constitution to the end of the Sixteenth +Congress, in three volumes,</q> is the title of a +new work by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Hildreth</hi>, whose three volumes, +bringing down the history of the United +States to the adoption of the Federal Constitution +are already favorably known to the public. +The present volumes, the first of which is already +in press, are intended to embrace a fully +authentic and impartial history of the two great +parties of Federalists and Republicans, or Democrats, +as they were sometimes called, by which +the country was divided and agitated for the +first thirty years and upward subsequent to the +adoption of the Federal Constitution. The volume +now in press is devoted to the administration +of Washington, a subject of great interest +and importance, since, during that period, not +only were all the germs of the subsequent party +distinctions fully developed, but because the +real character and operation of the Federal +Government, from that day to this, was mainly +determined by the impress given to it while +Washington remained at the head of affairs. +This subject, treated with the candor, discrimination, +industry, and ability which Mr. Hildreth's +volumes already published give us a +right to expect, can hardly fail to attract and +reward a large share of public attention.—An +Astronomical Expedition has been sent out by +the United States Government to Santiago, +Chili, for the purpose of making astronomical +observations. It is under the charge of Lieut. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>J.M. Gillis</hi>, of the Navy, one of the ablest +astronomers of his age now living. The Chilian +Government has received the expedition +with great cordiality, and has availed itself of +the liberal offer of the United States Government +to admit several young men to instruction +in the Observatory, by designating three persons +for that object. Letters from Lieut. G. +show that he is prosecuting his labors with unwearied +zeal and assiduity—having, up to the +1st of June, catalogued nearly five thousand +stars. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Humboldt</hi>, in a letter to a friend, which +has been published, expresses a high opinion of +Lieut. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Gillis</hi>, and of the expedition in which +he is engaged. In the same letter he speaks +in warm terms of the great ability and merit, +in their several departments, of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Ticknor</hi>, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Prescott</hi>, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Fremont</hi>, <hi rend='smallcaps'>Emory</hi>, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Gould</hi>, and other +literary and scientific Americans. +</p> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>California</hi> our intelligence is to the 15th +of August, brought by the steamer <hi rend='italic'>Ohio</hi>, which +reached New York on the 22d ult. The most important +item relates to a deplorable collision which +has occurred between persons claiming lands under +titles derived from Capt. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Sutter</hi>, and others +who had taken possession of them and refused to +leave. Capt. Sutter held them under his Spanish +grant, the validity of which, so far as the territory +in question is concerned, is disputed. Attempts +to eject the squatters, in accordance with the +decision of the courts, were forcibly resisted at +Sacramento City on the 14th of August, and a +riot was the result, in which several persons on +both sides were killed, and others severely +wounded. Several hundred were engaged in +the fight. As this occurred just upon the eve +of the steamer's departure, the issue of the contest +is unknown. There is reason to fear that +the difficulties to which it gives rise may not be +very soon or very easily settled. Among those +killed were Mr. Bigelow, Mayor of Sacramento +City, Mr. Woodland, an auctioneer, and Dr. +Robinson, the President of the Squatter Association.—The +news from the mines continues +to be encouraging. In the southern mines the +dry season had so far advanced that the Stanislaus +and Tuolumne rivers were in good working +condition, and yielded good returns. Details +are given from the various localities showing +that the gold has been by no means exhausted. +From the northern mines similar accounts are +received.—The total amount received for +duties by the Collector at San Francisco from +<pb n='706'/><anchor id='Pg706'/> +November 12, 1849, to June 30, 1850, was +$889,542.—During the passage of the steamer +Panama from San Francisco to Panama the +cholera broke out, and seventeen of the passengers +died. It was induced by excessive indulgence +in fruit at Acupulco.—Rev. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Horatio +Southgate</hi> D.D., formerly Missionary Bishop +at Constantinople, has been chosen Bishop of +the Protestant Episcopal Church for the Diocese +of California.—In Sonora the difficulties which +had broken out in consequence of the tax on +foreign miners had been obviated, and order was +restored.—Mining operations are prosecuted +with the greatest vigor and energy, and were +yielding a good return. Companies were formed +for carrying on operations more thoroughly than +has been usual, and new locations have been +discovered which promise to be very fertile. +</p> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>Oregon</hi> there is no news of interest, +though our intelligence comes down to the 25th +of July. Business was prosperous. Gold is +said to have been discovered on Rogue's river, +and companies had been formed to profit by the +discovery. A treaty of peace has been negotiated +with the Indians by Gov. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Lane</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jamaica</hi> we hear of the death of Gen. +Herard, ex-President of Hayti, who has been +residing in Jamaica for several years. The +season has been favorable for the crops, and the +harvests of fruit were very abundant. There +had been several very severe thunderstorms, +and several lives had been lost from lightning. +Efforts are made to promote the culture of cotton +upon the island. +</p> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>New Mexico</hi> Major <hi rend='smallcaps'>R.H. Weightman</hi> +arrived at St. Louis, Aug. 22d, having been +elected U.S. Senator by the state Legislature. +He was on his way to Washington where he +has since arrived. His colleague was Hon. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>F.A. Cunningham</hi>. In the popular canvass +the friends of a state government carried every +county except one, over those who desired a +territorial organization. A conflict of authority +had occurred between the newly elected state +officers and the Civil and Military Governor, +the latter refusing to transfer the authority to +the former until New Mexico should be admitted +as a state. A voluminous correspondence upon +the subject between the two governors has been +published.—The Indians at the latest dates were +still committing the grossest outrages in all parts +of the country. The crops were fine and +promising. +</p> + +<p> +In <hi rend='smallcaps'>England</hi> the month has been signalized +by no event of special interest or importance. +The incident which has attracted most attention +grew out of the visit to England of General +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Haynau</hi>, the commander of the Austrian armies +during the war with Hungary, who acquired +for himself a lasting and infamous notoriety by +the horrible cruelty which characterized his +campaigns and his treatment of prisoners who +fell into his hands. His proclamations, threatening +butchery and extermination to every village +any of whose inhabitants should furnish aid +or countenance to the Hungarians, and the inhuman +barbarity with which they were put in +execution, must be fresh in the public memory, +as it certainly was in that of the people of London. +It seems that, during his stay in London, +General <hi rend='smallcaps'>Haynau</hi> visited the great brewery establishment +of Messrs. Barclay & Co. On presenting +himself, accompanied by two friends, at +the door, they were required, as was customary, +to register their names. On looking at the +books, the clerks discovered the name and rank +of their visitor, and his presence and identity +were soon known throughout the establishment. +The workmen began to shout after him, and +finally to follow and assail him with denunciations +and dirt; and before he had crossed the +yard he found himself completely beset by a +mob of coal-heavers, draymen, brewers' men, and +others, who shouted <q>Down with the Austrian +butcher!</q> and hustled him about with a good +deal of violence and considerable injury to his +person. Fully realizing the peril of his position, +he ran from the mob, and took refuge in a +hotel, concealing himself in a secluded room +from his pursuers, who ransacked the whole +house, until the arrival of a strong police force +put an end to the mob and the General's peril. +The leading papers, especially those in the Tory +interest, speak of this event in the most emphatic +terms of denunciation. The Liberal +journals exult in the popular spirit which it +evinced, while they regret the disregard of law +and order which attended it. +</p> + +<p> +Parliament was prorogued on the 15th of +August by the Queen in person, to the 25th of +October. The ceremonial was unusually splendid. +The Queen tendered her thanks for the +assiduity and care which had marked the business +of the session, and expressed her satisfaction +with the various measures which had been +consummated. In approving of the Colonial +Government Act, she said it would always be +gratifying to her to extend the advantages of +republican institutions to colonies inhabited by +men who are capable of exercising, with benefit +to themselves, the privileges of freedom: she +looks for the most beneficial consequences, also, +from the act extending the elective franchise in +Ireland.—Previous to the prorogation, Parliament +transacted very little business of much interest +to our readers. Marlborough House was +set apart for the residence of the Prince of +Wales when he shall need it, and meantime it +is to be used for the exhibition of the Vernon +pictures. Lord <hi rend='smallcaps'>Brougham</hi> created something +of a sensation in the House of Lords on the 2d, +by complaining that all savings in the Civil List +should accrue to the nation, and not to the +royal privy purse,—as the spirit of the constitution +required the Sovereign to have no private +means, but to be dependent wholly on the nation. +His movement excited a good deal of feeling, +and was very warmly censured by all the Lords +who spoke upon it, as betraying an eagerness +<pb n='707'/><anchor id='Pg707'/> +to pry into the petty details of private expenditures +unworthy of the House, and indelicate +toward the Sovereign. Lord <hi rend='smallcaps'>Brougham</hi> resented +these censures with bitterness, and reproached +the Whigs with having changed their sentiments +and their conduct since they had tasted +the sweets of office. This course, he said, showed +most painfully that absolute prostration of +the understanding which takes place, even in +the minds of the bravest, when the word +<q>prince</q> is mentioned in England.—We +mentioned in our last number the presentation +of a petition concerning the Liverpool waterworks, +many of the signatures to which were +found to be forgeries. The case was investigated +by the Lords, and the presenters of the +petition, Mr. C. Cream and Mr. M.A. Gage, +were declared to have been guilty of a breach +of privilege, and sent to Newgate for a fort-night.—Lord +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Campbell</hi>, on the 14th, expressed +the opinion, <q>as one of the judges of +the land,</q> that the new regulations forbidding +the delivery or transit of letters on Sunday, had +a tendency, so far as the administration of justice +was concerned, to obstruct works of necessity +and mercy. The regulations have been +essentially modified.—The bill concerning +parliamentary voters in Ireland, after passing +the House of Lords with the rate requisite for +franchise at £15, was amended in the Commons +by substituting £12;—the amendment +was concurred in by the Lords, and in that form +the bill became a law. The effect of it will be +to add some two hundred thousand to the number +of voters in the kingdom.—Lord <hi rend='smallcaps'>John +Russell</hi>, in reply to a question from Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Hume</hi>, +explained the nature of the British claims on +Tuscany for injuries sustained by British subjects +after the revolt of Leghorn, and the occupation +of that city by an Austrian corps acting +as auxiliaries to the Grand Duke. After all +resistance was over, it seems, that corps plundered +a number of houses, and among them +houses belonging to British residents, and conspicuously +marked as such by the British consul. +The amount claimed was £1530.—Complaint +was made in the Commons by Mr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Bernal</hi>, of the defective state of the regulations +for the immigration of Africans into the West +Indies. He said that contracts were now limited +to one year, which often caused serious loss +to the employer. He thought the evil might +be remedied by making the contract for three +years. He was told in reply that Lord Grey +had already sanctioned contracts for three years +in British Guiana and Trinidad, and would, of +course, be quite prepared to do so in Jamaica. +The immigration of free labor from Africa had +proved a failure; but this was not the case with +the immigration of Coolies. Many requests had +been made to renew it, and arrangements had +been made to comply with those requests. Arrangements +had also been made, in consequence +of communications with Dr. Gutzlaff, for introducing +free Chinese immigrants into Trinidad. +The Tenant-right conference of Ireland held +its session on the 6th in Dublin. The attendance +of delegates was large. Resolutions were +adopted declaring that a fair valuation of rent +between landlord and tenant was indispensable, +that the tenant should not be disturbed so long +as he pays the rent fixed; that no further rent +shall be recoverable by process of law; and +that an equitable valuation for rent should +divide between landlord and tenant the net profits +of cultivation. A tenant league is to be +formed.—A dinner was given by the Fishmongers' +Company of London to the Ministers +on the 1st. Lord <hi rend='smallcaps'>Brougham</hi> was present, and +excited attention and mirth by his way of testing +the sentiments of the Company on matters +of public reform. If they applauded what he +was about to say, they were reformers, as of +old: if not, it would show that they had been +corrupted. He was made a Fishmonger in +1820, and he hoped the Company were not +ashamed of what they did in favor of an oppressed +queen against an aggressive king and +his minions of ministers. The remark was not +applauded, whereupon Lord B. drew his fore +gone conclusion:—<q>Ah, I see;—you are far +from having the same feeling you had in 1820. +Honors corrupt manners—being in power is a +dangerous thing to public virtue.</q>—The report +of the Railway Commissioners for 1849 +states that in course of the year the Board had +sanctioned the opening of 869 miles of new +railway—630 in England, 108 in Scotland, and +131 in Ireland—making the total extent of +railway communication at the end of the year, +5996 miles, of which 4656 are in England, 846 +in Scotland, and 494 in Ireland.—The Queen +left on the 22d for a short visit to the King of +the Belgians at Ostend. She was received with +great enthusiasm, and returned the next day—Prince +Albert completed his thirty-first +year on the 26th of August. The Queen left +town on the 27th for Scotland.—Sir George +Anderson has been appointed Governor of Ceylon, +in place of Lord Torrington, who has been +recalled.—The American steamer <hi rend='italic'>Pacific</hi> arrived +at New York at half-past six P.M., on +Saturday, the 21st ult., having left Liverpool at +two P.M. on the 11th. She thus made the passage +in <emph>ten days, four and a half hours:</emph> this is +by several hours the quickest voyage ever made +between the two ports. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>France</hi> the only news of general interest +relates to the tour of the President +through the provinces. The Assembly had +previously broken up, there not being a quorum +present on the 9th. It was to re-assemble on +the 11th of November. A Committee of <hi rend='italic'>Surveillance</hi> +was to sit during the recess. On the +12th, the President started on his tour. He +had given several military banquets, which, +from their imperial aspect, and the political +spirit manifested by the guests, created a great +sensation. On one of these occasions, a dinner +was given to the officers of a portion of the garrison +of Paris; it is told, that after the company +<pb n='708'/><anchor id='Pg708'/> +left the table, they adjourned into the garden to +smoke their cigars; and there Louis Napoleon +seeing a musket, took it up, and went through +the manual exercise with great dexterity, to the +great delight of the sergeants and corporals, +who shouted <q>Vive le petit Corporal!</q> (the +Emperor's pet-name among the soldiers) with +great enthusiasm. During his tour, which was +unattended by any very noticeable incident, he +made very liberal distribution of crosses of honor, +sometimes accompanied by gratuities to old officers +and soldiers of the imperial army. He had a +most brilliant reception at Lyons, where he spent +a day, and was entertained at a grand dinner by +the Chamber of Commerce. At Besançon he +had a less gracious reception: at a ball given +to him in the evening a mob broke into the +room, shouting <q>Vive la Republique,</q> and +creating great confusion. The President left the +room, which was cleared by General Castellane +at the point of the bayonet. At several +other places demonstrations were made of a +similar character, but much less violent. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Louis Phillipe</hi>, late King of France, died +on the 26th of August, at Claremont, England, +where he has resided since he became an +exile. His health had gradually failed since he +first left France, but it was not until the 24th, +that he became fully sensible of the gravity of +his disease. On that day he was carried out +into the open air, and was present at dinner +with his family, although he ate nothing. During +the night he was restless, and was informed +by the queen that his medical attendants despaired +of his recovery. The next morning, the +doctor, on being asked his opinion, hesitated. +<q>I understand,</q> says the king, <q>you bring me +notice to quit.</q> To Col. Dumas he dictated a +last page of his memoirs, which terminated a +recital in which he had been engaged for the +last four months. The king then sent for his +chaplain, with whom he had a long interview. +He repeatedly expressed his readiness for death, +which came upon him at eight o'clock on the +morning of Monday, the 26th. Louis <hi rend='smallcaps'>Phillipe</hi> +was born in Paris, Oct. 6, 1773, and was +the eldest son of Phillipe Joseph, Duke of Orleans, +known to the world by the <hi rend='italic'>sobriquet</hi> of +Phillipe Egalité. His education was intrusted +to Madame de Genlis, under whose direction he +made himself familiar with the English, German, +and Italian languages, and with the ordinary +branches of scientific knowledge. In 1792, +being then Duke de Chartres, he made his first +campaign against the Austrians, fighting at +Valmy and Jemappes. His father was executed +January 21, 1793, and he was summoned with +Gen. Dumouriez, before the Committee of Public +Safety, seven months after. Both, however, +fled, and escaped to Austria. Retiring to +private life, and refusing the offer of Austria, +he was joined by his sister Adelaide and their +former preceptress, and repaired to Zurich, +whence, however, he was soon compelled to +make his escape. He became greatly straitened +for means, and, finally, found protection in +the house of M. de Montesquion, at Baumgarten, +where he remained until the end of 1794, +when he quitted the place, and resolved to go to +the United States. He was compelled to abandon +this project from lack of funds, and traveled +on foot through Norway, Sweden, and Denmark. +Negotiations were now opened on the part of +the Directory, who had in vain attempted to discover +the place of his exile, to induce him to go +to the United States, promising, in the event of +his compliance, that the condition of the Duchess +D'Orleans should be ameliorated, and that his +younger brothers should be permitted to join +him. Through the agency of M. Westford, of +Hamburg, this letter was conveyed to the duke, +who at once accepted the terms offered, and +sailed from the mouth of the Elbe in the American, +taking with him his servant Baudoin. He +departed on the 24th of September, 1796, and +arrived in Philadelphia after a passage of twenty-seven +days. In the November following, the +young prince was joined by his two brothers, +after a stormy passage from Marseilles; and the +three brothers remained at Philadelphia during +the winter. They afterward visited Mount +Vernon, where they became intimate with General +Washington; and they soon afterward +traveled through the western country, and after +a long and fatiguing journey they returned to +Philadelphia; proceeding afterward to New +Orleans, and, subsequently, by an English ship, +to Havanna. The disrespect of the Spanish +authorities at the Havanna, soon compelled +them to depart, and they proceeded to the +Bahama Islands, where they were treated with +much kindness by the Duke of Kent, who, however, +did not feel authorized to give them a +passage to England in a British frigate. They, +accordingly, embarked for New York, and +thence sailed to England in a private vessel, +arriving at Falmouth in February, 1800. After +proceeding to London they took up their residence +at Twickenham, where for some time +they enjoyed comparative quiet, being treated +with distinction by all classes of society. Their +time was now principally spent in study, and no +event of any importance disturbed their retreat, +until the death of the Duke de Montpensier, +on the 18th of May, 1807. The Count Beaujolais +soon afterward proceeded to Malta, where +he died in 1808. The Duke of Orleans now +quitted Malta, and went to Messina, in Sicily, +accepting an invitation from King Ferdinand. +During his residence at Palermo he gained the +affections of the Princess Amelia, and was married +to her in 1809. No event of any material +importance marked the life of the young couple +until the year 1814, when it was announced in +Palermo that Napoleon had abdicated the throne, +and that the restoration of the Bourbon family +was about to take place. The duke sailed immediately, +and arrived in Paris on the 18th of +May, where, in a short time, he was in the enjoyment +of the honors to which he was so well +entitled. The return of Napoleon in 1815, soon +disturbed his tranquillity; and, having sent his +<pb n='709'/><anchor id='Pg709'/> +family to England, he proceeded, in obedience +to the command of Louis XVIII., to take the +command of the army of the north. He remained +in this situation until the 24th of March, +1815, when he resigned his command to the +Duke de Treviso and retired to Twickenham. +On the return of Louis, after the hundred days—in +obedience to the ordinance issued, requiring +all the princes of the blood to take their seats in +the Chamber of Peers—the duke returned to +France in 1815; and, by his liberal sentiments, +rendered himself so little agreeable to the administration, +that he returned to England, where +he remained until 1817. In that year he returned +to France, continuing now in a private +capacity, as he was not a second time summoned +to sit in the Chamber of Peers. For some years +after this period the education of his family +deeply engaged his attention; and while the +Duke of Orleans was thus pursuing a career +apart from the court, a new and unexpected +scene was opened in the drama of his singularly +eventful and changeful life. In 1830 that revolution +occurred in France which eventuated in the +elevation of the Duke of Orleans to the throne. +The cause of the elder branch of the Bourbons +having been pronounced hopeless, the king in +effect being discrowned, and the throne rendered +vacant, the Provisional Government which had +risen out of the struggle, and in which Laffitte, +Lafayette, Thiers, and other politicians, had taken +the lead, turned toward the Duke of Orleans, +whom it was proposed, in the first instance, to +invite to Paris, to become Lieutenant-general of +the kingdom, and afterward, in a more regular +manner, to become King. The Duke of Orleans, +during the insurrection, had been residing in +seclusion at his country seat, and, if watching +the course of events, apparently taking no active +part in dethroning his kinsman. M. Thiers and +M. Scheffer were appointed to conduct the negotiation +with the duke, and visited Neuilly for +the purpose. The duke, however, was absent, +and the interview took place with the duchess +and Princess Adelaide, to whom they represented +the danger with which the nation was menaced, +and that anarchy could only be averted by the +prompt decision of the duke to place himself at +the head of the new constitutional monarchy. +M. Thiers expressed his conviction <q>that nothing +was left the Duke of Orleans but a choice of +dangers; and that, in the existing state of things, +to recoil from the possible perils of royalty was +to run full upon the republic and its inevitable +violences.</q> The substance of the communication +having been made known to the duke, on a +day's consideration he acceded to the request, +and at noon on the 31st came to Paris to accept +the office which had been assigned to him. On +the 2d of August the abdication of Charles X. and +his son was placed in the hands of the Lieutenant-general, +the abdication, however, being in favor +of the Duke of Bordeaux. On the 7th the Chamber +of Deputies declared the throne vacant; and +on the 8th the Chamber went in a body to the +Duke of Orleans, and offered him the Crown on +the terms of a revised charter. His formal acceptance +of the offer took place on the 9th. From +the accession of Louis Philippe as King of the +French, in 1830, his life is universally known. +His reign was marked by sagacity and upright +intentions. He committed the unpardonable +error, however, of leaving the people entirely out +of his account, and endeavored to fortify himself +by allying his children to the reigning families of +Europe. He married his eldest son Ferdinand, +Duke of Orleans (born 1810) to the Princess +Helen of Mecklenburg-Schwerin; his daughter +Louisa (born 1812) to Leopold, King of the +Belgians; his son Louis, Duke of Nemours +(born 1814) to the Princess Victoria of Saxe +Coburg Gotha; his daughter Clementina (born +1817) to Prince Augustus of Saxe Coburg +Gotha; his son Francis, Prince of Joinville +(born 1818) to the Princess Frances Caroline, +of Brazil; his son the Duke of Aumale (born +1822) to the Princess Caroline, of Salerno, and +his son Antony, Duke of Montpensier (born +1824) to Louisa, sister and heir presumptive of +the reigning Queen of Spain. But these royal +alliances served him not in the day of his distress. +The fatal 24th of February came, and +swept away the throne he had taken so much +pains to consolidate, and he signed his act of +abdication, accepting the regency of the Duchess +of Orleans. His subsequent fate is familiar to +all. His flight from Paris to the sea-shore; his +escape in disguise to England; his kind reception +in that country, are well known. Claremont +was given him as an abode, and there, with the +exception of occasional visits to Richmond and +St. Leonard's, Louis Philippe continued to reside. +There, too, he breathed his last on Monday +morning, the 26th of August, in the 77th +year of his age. His death excited general +comment, but was universally regarded as an +event of no political importance.—A very +imposing review of the French fleet at the harbor +of Cherbourg, took place on the 7th inst. +A great number of the English nobility and +gentlemen were present by special invitation, +and a magnificent display was made of British +yachts. An immense concourse of people was +in attendance, and the President, Prince <hi rend='smallcaps'>Louis +Napoleon</hi>, was received with distinguished +honors. The parting salute at sunset, when over +two thousand pieces of ordnance crashed forth +with a simultaneous roar, was highly effective.—The +trade of Paris is said to be unusually +brisk this season. Wheat is abundant and all +the harvests yield good returns, though fears are +entertained that the quality of the vintage may +be inferior.—The +proceedings of the General +Councils of sixty-four of the eighty-five departments +of France are now known.—Forty-seven +have pronounced in favor of the revision of the +actual constitution. Seven have rejected resolutions +recommending the revision, and ten have +declined the expression of an opinion upon the +subject. Only three have declared themselves +in favor of an extension and continuance of the +power now confided to <hi rend='smallcaps'>Louis Napoleon Bonaparte</hi>. +<pb n='710'/><anchor id='Pg710'/> +Nearly all have expressly desired that +the revision should be effected in the mode and +time prescribed by the constitution itself. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +The <hi rend='smallcaps'>Literary Intelligence</hi> from abroad +lacks special interest. The Magazines for September +contain nothing worthy of mention, +which will not be found in the foregoing pages +of this number. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Bulwer</hi> commences a new +novel in Blackwood, the opening chapters of +which are here reprinted. It is in continuation +of <q>The Caxtons,</q> and promises to be exceedingly +interesting. It will, of course, be given +to our readers as rapidly as it appears. Our +opening paper this month is a spirited and eloquent +notice of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Wordsworth</hi>, evidently from +the popular and effective pen of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Gilfillan</hi>, +who is a constant contributor to the London +Eclectic Review from which it is taken. <q>David +Copperfield</q> by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Dickens</hi>, and <q>Pendennis</q> by +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Thackeray</hi>, draw toward their end, and our +readers may therefore anticipate new productions +from their pens ere long.—The question +whether an American can hold a copyright in +England comes up before the English Courts in +a suit brought by Murray for interference with +his rights by a publisher who has issued an +edition of Washington Irving. It is stated that +Irving has received from the Murrays the sum +of £9767 for the English copyrights of his +various works.—The Gallery of Paintings of +the King of Holland has been sold at auction +and the returns are stated at $450,000. The +Emperor of Russia, and the Marquis of Hertford +in England, were extensive purchasers. +Two portraits of Vandyke were bought by the +latter at 63,000 florins.—<hi rend='smallcaps'>Lamartine</hi> writes +to the <hi rend='italic'>Debats</hi> from Marseilles, denying, so far +as he is concerned, the truth of statements contained +in Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Croker's</hi> article in the London +Quarterly upon the flight of Louis Phillipe. He +has commenced the publication of a new volume +of <q>Confidences</q> in the <hi rend='italic'>feuilleton</hi> +of the <hi rend='italic'>Presse</hi>.—The +Household Narrative in its summary of +English Literary Intelligence, notices the appearance +of an elaborate work on <hi rend='italic'>Tubular Bridges</hi> +by Mr. Edwin Clark, with a striking folio of +illustrative drawings and lithographs. Also of an +Essay in two goodly octavos on <hi rend='italic'>Ancient Egypt +under the Pharaohs</hi>, by Mr. Kenrick, full of learning, +yet full of interest, because grafting on the ascertained +old history all the modern elucidations +of travelers and artists, critics and interpreters. +It appears to be but a portion of a contemplated +work comprehending a complete history of those +countries of the East whose civilization preceded +and influenced that of Greece; and to our proper +understanding of which, the discovery of the +hieroglyphic character, and such researches as +those of Mr. Layard, have lately contributed an +entire new world of information. Another book +remarkable for the precision and completeness +of its knowledge, is Doctor Latham's <hi rend='italic'>Natural +History of the Varieties of Man</hi>, a very important +contribution to the literature of ethnology; +and with this is connected in subject, though +not in any other kind of merit, an eccentric +fragment on the <hi rend='italic'>Races of Man</hi>, by Dr. Robert +Knox.—Mrs. Jameson has published a second +series of her <hi rend='italic'>Poetry of Sacred and Legendary +Art</hi>, in a volume of <hi rend='italic'>Legends of the Monastic +Orders</hi>, similarly illustrated; and nothing can +be more graceful than this lady's treatment of a +subject which has not much that is graceful in +itself.—To biography, a new volume of the +<hi rend='italic'>Life of Chalmers</hi> has been the most interesting +addition. A <hi rend='italic'>Life of Ebenezer Elliott</hi>, by his +son-in-law, possesses also some interest; and, +with a little less of the biographer and more of +the biography, would have been yet more successful. +In English fiction, a semi-chartist +novel called <hi rend='italic'>Alton Locke</hi>, full of error and +earnestness, and evidently by a University +man of the so-called Christian Socialist school, +is the most noticeable work of the kind that +has lately appeared. The other romances +of the month have been translations from the +German and French. The <hi rend='italic'>Two Brothers</hi> is +somewhat in the school of Miss Bremer; and +<hi rend='italic'>Stella and Vanessa</hi> is a novel by a graceful +French writer, very agreeably translated by +Lady Duff Gordon, of which the drift is to excuse +Swift for his conduct to Mrs. Johnson +and Miss Vanhomrigh. The subject is curious, +and the treatment (for a Frenchman) not less +so. Nothing painful or revolting is dwelt upon, +and if it does not satisfy it fails to offend.—The +London <hi rend='italic'>Morning Chronicle</hi> has an extended +and elaborate review of Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Ticknor's</hi> +great <q>History of Spanish Literature,</q> in which +it pays the highest possible compliments to the +accomplished author. <q>The masterly sweep +of his general grasp,</q> it says, <q>and the elaborated +finish of his constituent sketches, silence +the caviller at the very outset, and enforce him +to respectful study, while the unaffected ease +of the style, lively but not flippant, charms the +attention, and not seldom disguises the amount +of research and indigation which has been bestowed +upon each stage of the history.</q> It +closes its review with this emphatic praise: +<q>this History will at once take its position as +the standard book of reference upon Spanish +literature, but it will not take the cold honors +of the shelf usually accorded to such volumes, +for it will not only be consulted but read. We +cordially congratulate our American friends +upon possessing a compatriot who is able to +make such a contribution to English literature—we +are not aware that we are equally fortunate.</q>—The +third series of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Southey's</hi> Common-Place +Book has just appeared. Unlike +the former series, which consisted of selections +of rare and striking passages, and so possessed +a general and independent value, the present +volume consists mainly of brief notes or references +to important passages in a great variety +of works, bearing upon the subjects of Civil +and Ecclesiastical History, Biography, and Literature +in general. The references are so +brief, and the works referred to so rare, that +the book will prove of little service except to +<pb n='711'/><anchor id='Pg711'/> +those who have access to large public libraries. +Probably not one book in ten of those referred +to is to be found in any library in this +country. The volume, however, furnishes evidence +still stronger than the others, of the +wonderful extent, variety, and accuracy of +Southey's reading; it shows that he was a sort +of living library, a walking study; he read almost +every thing that appeared, and methodized, +and laid up in his mind all that was worth +preserving, of what he read, and thus gained a +super-eminence of information which has rarely +been surpassed. The third volume of his Common-Place +Book is not altogether destitute +of those quaint and singular selections which +gave so rare a charm to those that preceded.—The +North British Review for the current +quarter, from which we gave some extracts in +our September number, has an article upon the +disputed claims of Messrs. Stephenson & Fairbairn +to the credit of having invented the Tubular +bridge. If the facts upon which the reasonings +of the reviewer are based, are correctly stated, +there can be no doubt that a large, perhaps the +larger share of the credit due to this greatest +triumph of modern engineering, belongs to <hi rend='smallcaps'>William +Fairbairn</hi>, of Manchester, by whom all the +experiments were undertaken that demonstrated +the practicability of the undertaking, and proved +that a square form was much stronger than the +elliptical one, which was originally proposed. +Mr. Fairbairn, it is stated, showed conclusively +by actual experiment, in opposition to the opinion +of Mr. Stephenson, that suspension chains, as an +additional means of support, were not needed, +thus avoiding an outlay of some £200,000. +Successful as the experiment has been in a +scientific point of view, the railroad of which +this bridge forms a link, has been most unfortunate +in a pecuniary aspect. The stock consists +of two kinds, the original, and preferential. +In July, 1850, the former was selling at a loss +of £72 10s., and the latter at a loss of £33 6s. +8d. on every £100, involving a total loss to the +stockholders of £1,764,000.—The <hi rend='italic'>Barbarigo +Gallery</hi> at Venice, celebrated for ages for its +rich collection, especially of the works of Titian, +has been purchased by the court of Russia for +560,000 francs, or £22,400 sterling. A new +singer, Madame Fiorentini, has appeared at Her +Majesty's Theatre in London, who attracts considerable +attention. She is a native of Seville, +and married to Mr. Jennings, an English officer. +She received her musical education in London, +and made her first public appearance at Berlin +only twelve months since.—The telegraphic +wires between Dover and Calais, or rather Cape +Grinez, have been laid and got into operation. +Dispatches have been received in this country +which were sent from Paris to London by this +means. Thirty miles of wire, incased in a +strong coating of gutta percha, have been imbedded, +as far as this could possibly be done, in +the bottom of the channel, by means of leaden +weights. It remains now to be seen whether +the precautions taken are sufficient to protect +the wire from the ravages of the ocean's denizens, +the assaults of ships' anchors, and the shifting +sands which are known to underlie the Straits +of Dover.—A duel took place at Perigueux between +MM. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Chavoix</hi> and <hi rend='smallcaps'>Dupont</hi>, in which +the latter was killed. The latter was editor of +a paper called <hi rend='italic'>Echo de Vesone</hi>, and had offended +M. Chavoix, a wealthy proprietor, by severe +strictures on his conduct. Both were members +of the Assembly. They fought with pistols at +twenty-five paces. M. Chavoix won the throw +for the choice of position, and M. Dupont for +first fire. Dupont fired and missed. Chavoix, +declaring that he could not see clearly, waited +till the smoke of his adversary's discharge passed, +and fired at an interval of some seconds. His +ball struck the forehead of Dupont, who fell stark +dead upon the plain without uttering a cry or a +groan.—The distinguished French Novelist +M. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Balzac</hi> died at Paris on the 18th of August, +aged 51. He was in many important respects, +the foremost of French writers. He was +originally a journeyman printer at Tours, his +native place. His earlier works obtained a fair +measure of success, but it was not until after +many years' apprenticeship, either anonymously +or under assumed cognomens, that he ventured +to communicate his name to the public. And +no sooner was the name given than it became +popular—and in a little while famous—famous +not in France alone, but all over Europe. His +success was almost as brilliant as that of Walter +Scott himself. In addition to his romances, +Balzac wrote some theatrical pieces, and for a +while edited and contributed a good deal to the +<hi rend='italic'>Revue Parisienne</hi>. Since the revolution Balzac +published nothing, but was engaged in visiting +the battle-fields of Germany and Russia, and in +piling up materials for a series of volumes, to +be entitled <hi rend='italic'>Scenes de la Vie Militaire.</hi> He +leaves behind several MS. works, partially or +wholly completed. His design was to make all +his romances form one great work, under the +title of the <hi rend='italic'>Comedíe Humaine</hi>,—the whole being +a minute dissection of the different classes of +French society. Only a little while before his +death, he stated that, in what he had done, he +had but half accomplished his task. Next to +his great celebrity, the most remarkable feature +in his career is a strong passion which he formed +for a Russian countess, and which, after +years of patient suffering, he had the satisfaction +of having rewarded by the gift of the lady's +hand. Shortly after his marriage—which took +place some two years ago—he was attacked +with a disease of the heart, and that carried him +off. He and his wife had only been a few +months in Paris when this sad event took place. +His funeral was celebrated with a good deal +of ceremony, and an eloquent funeral oration +was pronounced by M. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Victor Hugo</hi>.—Sir +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Martin Archer Shee</hi>, President of the Royal +Academy, died at Brighton on the 19th, in his +80th year. He was elected to the above office +in 1830, on the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence, +when he received the honor of knighthood. He +<pb n='712'/><anchor id='Pg712'/> +retired in 1845 from the active duties of the +office, which have been since performed by Mr. +Turner.—The late Sir <hi rend='smallcaps'>Robert Peel</hi> has +left directions in his will for the early publication +of his political memoirs, and has ordered +that the profits arising from the publication +shall be given to some public institution for the +education of the working classes. He has confided +the task of preparing these memoirs to +Lord Mahon and Mr. Cardwell. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +In the settlement of <hi rend='smallcaps'>German</hi> affairs little +progress has yet been made by the Congress at +Frankfort. At a meeting on the 8th of August, +at which Count Thun, the Austrian plenipotentiary, +presided, it was decided that Austria +should formally invite all the members of the +Bund to assemble at Frankfort on the 1st of +September next. A circular note of the 18th +of August, in which the Minister-President reiterates +the assurances so solemnly given in the +circular of the 19th July, that it is the earnest +wish of Austria to make such reforms in the +Act of Confederation as may be required by the +recent change of circumstances in Germany, +and may conduce to the unity of the common +fatherland, was accordingly dispatched with the +Frankfort summons to the different courts on +the 15th. It remains to be seen whether Prussia +and the League will accept this proposal.—The +third meeting of the General Peace +Congress commenced at Frankfort on the 22d +of August. There were some two thousand +delegates in attendance, mostly from England, +France, the United States, and Germany. Gen. +Haynau was present for a time. Resolutions +were submitted, discussed, and adopted, deprecating +a resort to arms, and urging the propriety +and expediency of settling all international +differences by arbitration. Dr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Jaup</hi> presided, +and speeches were made by delegates from +every nation. Among the most prominent representatives +from the United States were Elihu +Burritt, Professor Cleaveland, Dr. Hitchcock, and +George Copway, an Indian chief; Mr. Cobden, of +England, and Cormenin and Girardin, of France +were also in attendance. The session lasted +three days. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +In <hi rend='smallcaps'>Piedmont</hi> a great sensation has been +produced by a collision with the papal power. +The Sardinian Minister of Finance, the Cavalière +Santa Rosa, who had supported the ministry in +passing the law which rendered the clergy +amenable to the civil courts, being on his death-bed, +was refused the sacrament by the monks, +under the direction of Franzoni the Archbishop +of Turin. At his funeral such excitement was +manifested by the people, that to avoid an actual +outbreak, the monks were ordered to leave the +city, and the possessions of their order were sequestered. +In the search through their house, +documents were found which inculpated the +Archbishop Franzoni himself, and he was consequently +arrested and imprisoned in the fortress +of Fenestrelles. Both Austria and France, however, +have interfered; and, in consequence, the +editor of <hi rend='italic'>L'Opinione</hi>, a liberal journal, has been +banished from the Sardinian States. It is stated +that Lord Palmerston has addressed to the Court +of the Vatican a most energetic note, in which +he cautions it against adopting violent measures +toward Sardinia, and persevering in the +system hitherto pursued by the Pope with regard +to that Government. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +A letter from Rome, of the 20th, in the <hi rend='italic'>Constitutionnel</hi>, +states that several persons have been +arrested there for a supposed conspiracy to assassinate +the Pope, on Assumption day, by throwing +crystal balls filled with explosive substances +into his carriage when on his way to church to +pronounce the benediction. The discovery of +the plot prevented all danger. There was some +agitation on the following Sunday, as it was +supposed that there had been a plot against the +Austrian Ambassador, on the anniversary of the +birth of the Emperor. A strong armed force +was placed near his palace to protect it, and in +the evening some arrests were made. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +A continuance of heavy rain in <hi rend='smallcaps'>Belgium</hi> on +the 15th, 16th, and 17th has produced disastrous +inundations in various parts of that country. At +Antwerp there was a tremendous storm of rain, +wind, and thunder. The lightning struck several +buildings; many of the streets were under water, +and large trees were uprooted in the neighboring +country. At Ghent a large sugar manufactory +was destroyed by lightning, and people +were killed by it in different places. A great +part of the city of Brussels and the neighboring +villages were under water for nearly two days; +and many houses were so much damaged that +they fell, and a number of persons perished. +Near Charleroi all the fields were submerged, +and the injury done to the crops was immense. +At Valenciennes the Scheldt overflowed, inundating +the neighboring country, and causing +vast devastation. The damage done to the +crops has produced a rise in the price of flour. +Many bridges have been swept away, and +the injury done to the railways has been immense. +</p> + +<milestone unit='tb' rend='rule: 50%'/> + +<p> +From <hi rend='smallcaps'>Schleswig Holstein</hi>, we learn that +the continued rains have prevented all renewal +of operations in the field. The Danes have established +a permanent camp near Ramstedt, and +the marshes in that vicinity have been completely +flooded. The Emperor of Russia has created +General <hi rend='smallcaps'>Krogh</hi>, the Danish Commander-in-Chief, +Knight of the Order of St. Anne of the +first class, for the distinguished bravery and +prudence which he displayed in the engagements +of the 24th and 25th of July, at Idstedt. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='713'/><anchor id='Pg713'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Literary Notices.</head> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Rural Hours,</hi> by <hi rend='smallcaps'>A Lady</hi>, published by G.P. +Putnam, is an admirable volume, the effect of +which is like a personal visit to the charming +scenes which the writer portrays with such a +genuine passion for nature, and so much vivacity +and truthfulness of description. Without the faintest +trace of affectation, or even the desire to present +the favorite surroundings of her daily life in +overdone pictures, she quietly jots down the sights +and sounds, and odorous blossomings of the seasons +as they pass, and by this intellectual honesty +and simplicity, has given a peculiar charm +to her work, which a more ambitious style of +composition would never have been able to command. +Her eye for nature is as accurate as +her enthusiasm is sincere. She dwells on the +minute phenomena of daily occurrence in their +season with a just discrimination, content with +clothing them in their own beauty, and never +seeking to increase their brilliancy by any artificial +gloss. Whoever has a love for communing +with nature in the <q>sweet hour of prime,</q> +or in the <q>still twilight,</q> for watching the varied +glories of the revolving year, will be grateful to +the writer of this picturesque volume for such a +fragrant record of rural experience. The author +is stated to be a daughter of Cooper, the distinguished +American novelist, and she certainly +exhibits an acuteness of observation, and a vigor +of description, not unworthy of her eminent +parentage. +</p> + +<p> +A new edition of the <hi rend='italic'>Greek and English +Lexicon</hi>, by Professor <hi rend='smallcaps'>Edward Robinson</hi> (Harper +and Brothers) will be received with lively +satisfaction by the large number of Biblical +students in this country and in England who +are under such deep obligations to the previous +labors of Dr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Robinson</hi> in this department of +philology. The work exhibits abundant evidence +of the profound and discriminating research, +the even more than German patience of +labor, the rigid impartiality, and the rare critical +acumen for which the name of the author is +proverbial wherever the New-Testament Lexicography +is made the object of earnest study. +Since the publication of the first edition, fourteen +years since, which was speedily followed by +three rival editions in Great Britain, and two +abridgments, the science of Biblical philology +has made great progress; new views have been +developed by the learned labors of Wahl, Bretschneider, +Winer, and others; the experience of +the author in his official duties for the space of +ten years, had corrected and enlarged his own +knowledge; he had made a personal exploration +of many portions of the Holy Land; and under +these circumstances, when he came to the revision +of the work, he found that a large part +of it must be re-written, and the remainder submitted +to such alterations, corrections, and improvements, +as were almost as laborious as the +composition of a new Lexicon. The plan of the +work in its present enlarged form, embraces +the etymology of each word given—the logical +deduction of all its significations, which occur +in the New Testament—the various combinations +of verbs and adjectives—the different forms +and inflections of words—the interpretation of +difficult passages—and a reference to every passage +of the New Testament in which the word +is found. No scholar can examine the volume, +without a full conviction of the eminent success +with which this comprehensive plan has been +executed, and of the value of the memorial here +presented to the accuracy and thoroughness of +American scholarship. The practical use of +the work will be greatly facilitated by the clearness +and beauty of the Greek type on which it +is printed, being an admirable specimen of the +Porson style. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Berber, or Mountaineer of the Atlas,</hi> by +<hi rend='smallcaps'>William S. Mayo</hi>, M.D., published by G.P. +Putnam, is toned down to a very considerable +degree from the high-colored pictures which +produced such a dazzling effect in <hi rend='italic'>Kaloolah</hi>, the +work by which the author first became known +to the public. The scene is laid in Morocco, +affording the writer an occasion for the use of a +great deal of geographical and historical lore, +which is introduced to decided advantage as a +substantial back-ground to the story, which, in +itself, possesses a sustained and powerful interest. +Dr. Mayo displays a rare talent in individualizing +character: his groups consist of +distinct persons, without any confused blundering +or repetition; he is not only a painter of +manners, but an amateur of passion; and hence +his admirable descriptions are combined with +rapid and effective touches, which betray no +ordinary insight into the subtle philosophy of +the heart. The illusion of the story is sometimes +impaired by the introduction of the novelist +in the first person, a blemish which we +should hardly have looked for in a writer who is so +obviously well acquainted with the resources of +artistic composition as the author of this volume. +</p> + +<p> +Harper and Brothers have issued the Fifth +Part of <hi rend='italic'>The Life and Correspondence of</hi> <hi rend='smallcaps'>Robert +Southey</hi>, which brings the biography down to +the fifty-fifth year of his age, and to the close +of the year 1828. The next number will complete +the work, which has sustained a uniform +interest from the commencement, presenting a +charming picture of the domestic habits, literary +enterprises, and characteristic moral features +of its eminent subject. Mr. Southey's +connection with the progress of English literature +during the early part of the present century, +his strong political predilections, the extent and +variety of his productions, and his singular devotion +to a purely intellectual life, make his +biography one of the most entertaining and +instructive records that have recently been published +in this department of letters. His son, +Rev. Charles Cuthbert Southey, by whom the +work is edited, has acquitted himself of his task +<pb n='714'/><anchor id='Pg714'/> +with admirable judgment and modesty, never +obtruding himself on the notice of the reader, +and leaving the correspondence, which, in fact, +forms a continuous narrative, to make its natural +impression, without weakening its force by +superfluous comment. The present number contains +several letters to our distinguished countryman, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>George Ticknor</hi>, Esq., of Boston, +which will be read with peculiar interest on +account of their free remarks on certain American +celebrities, and their criticisms on some of +the popular productions of American literature. +</p> + +<p> +Among the late valuable theological publications, +is <hi rend='italic'>The Works of Joseph Bellamy, D.D., +with a Memoir of his Life and Character</hi>, by +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Tryon Edwards</hi>, issued by the Doctrinal Tract +and Book Society, Boston, in two volumes. As +models of forcible reasoning, and of ingenious +and subtle analysis, the theological disquisitions +of Dr. Bellamy have seldom been surpassed, and +their reproduction in the present form will be +grateful to many readers who have not been seduced +by the excitements of the age from their +love of profound and acute speculation. The +memoir prefixed to these volumes gives an interesting +view of the life of a New England +clergyman of the olden time. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Adelaide Lindsay</hi>, from the prolific and vigorous +pen of Mrs. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Marsh</hi>, the author of <q>Two +Old Men's Tales,</q> <q>The Wilmingtons,</q> &c, +forms the one hundred and forty—seventh number +of Harper and Brothers' <q>Library of Select +Novels.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Popular Education; for the Use of Parents +and Teachers</hi> (Harper and Brothers), is the title +of a volume by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Ira Mayhew</hi>, prepared in accordance +with a resolution of the Legislature of +Michigan, and discussing the subject, in its +multifarious aspects and relations, with a thoroughness, +discrimination, and ability, which can +not fail to make it a work of standard authority +in the department to which it is devoted. The +author has been Superintendent of Public Instruction +in the State of Michigan; his official +position has put him in possession of a great +amount of facts and statistics in relation to the +subject; he is inspired with a noble zeal in the +cause of education; and in the production of +this volume, has given a commendable proof of +his industry, good sense, and thorough acquaintance +with an interest on which he rightly judges +that the future prosperity of the American Republic +essentially depends. +</p> + +<p> +C.S. Francis and Co. have published <hi rend='italic'>The +Poems of Elizabeth Barrett Browning</hi> in a +beautiful edition of two volumes, including +<q>The Seraphim, with other Poems,</q> as first +published in England in 1838, and the contents +of the previous American edition. This edition +is introduced with a Critical Essay, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>H.T. +Tuckerman</hi>, taken from his <q>Thoughts on the +Poets,</q> presenting in refined and tasteful language, +a discriminating view of Mrs. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Browning's</hi> +position among the living poets of England. +Mr. Tuckerman makes use of no extravagant +encomium in his estimate of her powers; his +remarks are less enthusiastic than critical; and, +indeed, the more ardent admirers of Mrs. Browning +would deem them of too subdued a tone, and +deficient in an adequate appreciation of her peculiar +boldness, originality, and beauty. The +edition now presented to the public will be +thankfully accepted by the wide circle which +has learned to venerate Mrs. Browning's genius, +and will serve to extend the healthful interest +cherished by American readers in the most +remarkable poetess of modern times. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Companion; After Dinner Table Talk</hi>, +by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Chetwood Evelyn</hi>, Esq. (New York: G.P. +Putnam), is the title of a popular compilation +from favorite English authors, prepared with a +good deal of tact and discrimination, and forming +an appropriate counterpart to <hi rend='italic'>The Lift for +the Lazy</hi>, published some time since by the +same house. +</p> + +<p> +George P. Putnam has just issued <hi rend='italic'>The Deer +Slayer</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>J. Fenimore Cooper</hi>, being the +first volume of the author's revised edition of +<hi rend='italic'>The Leather Stocking Tales</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +Among the swarm of Discourses and Funeral +Orations, occasioned by the death of the late +President Taylor, we have seen none of a more +striking character than <hi rend='italic'>The Sermon delivered at +the Masonic Hall</hi>, Cincinnati, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>T.H. Stockton</hi>. +It presents a series of glowing and impressive +pictures of public life in Washington, +of the tombs of the departed Presidents, of eminent +American statesmen now no more, of the +progress of discovery in this country, and of the +march of improvement in modern times. The +too florid character of some portions of the Discourse +is amply redeemed by the spirit of wise +patriotism and elevated religion with which it +is imbued, while it has the rare merit of being +entirely free from the commonplaces of the pulpit. +In a note to this discourse, it is stated that +the author is desirous of forming a collection of +Sermons, Orations, Addresses, &c., on the death +of General Taylor, and that editors and speakers +will confer a favor on him by forwarding +him a copy of their several publications. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Relations of the American Scholar to his +Country and his Times</hi> (Baker and Scribner), is +the title of an Address delivered by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Henry J. +Raymond</hi>, before the Associate Alumni of the +University of Vermont, maintaining the doctrine +that educated men, instead of retiring from the +active interests and contending passions of the +world, to some fancied region of serene contemplation, +are bound to share in the struggle, +the competition, the warfare of society. This +is argued, with a variety of illustrations, from +the character of the education of the scholar, as +combining theory and practice, and from the +peculiar tendencies of American society, now in +a state of rapid fermentation and development. +Mr. Raymond endeavors to do justice both to +the Conservative and Radical elements, which +are found in our institutions and national character, +and to discuss those difficult problems +in a spirit of moderation, and without passion. +Of the literary character of this production, the +<pb n='715'/><anchor id='Pg715'/> +writer of the present notice can speak with +more propriety in another place. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Recent Progress of Astronomy</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Elias +Loomis</hi> (Harper and Brothers), exhibits the +most important astronomical discoveries made +within the last ten years, with special reference +to the condition of the science in the United +States. Among the topics treated in detail, +are the discovery of the planet Neptune, the addition +to our knowledge of comets, with a full +account of Miss Mitchell's comet, the new stars +and nebulae, the determination of longitude by +the electric telegraph, the manufacture of telescopes +in the United States, and others of equal +interest both to men of science and the intelligent +reader in general. Professor <hi rend='smallcaps'>Loomis</hi> displays +a singularly happy talent in bringing the +results of scientific investigation to the level of +the common mind, and we predict a hearty +welcome to his little volume, as a lucid and +delightful compendium of valuable knowledge. +The author states in the Preface, that <q>he has +endeavored to award equal and exact justice +to all American astronomers; and if any individual +should feel that his labors in this department +have not been fairly represented, he is +requested to furnish in writing a minute account +of the same,</q> and he shall receive amends in a +second edition of the work. +</p> + +<p> +Professor <hi rend='smallcaps'>Loomis's</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Mathematical Course</hi> +has met with signal favor at the hands of the best +instructors in our higher institutions of learning. +New editions of his <hi rend='italic'>Algebra</hi> and +the <hi rend='italic'>Geometry</hi> +have recently been issued; and a new volume +on <hi rend='italic'>Analytical Geometry</hi>, and +the <hi rend='italic'>Calculus</hi>, completing +the course, will soon appear. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Truth and Poetry, from my own Life, or the +Autobiography of Goethe</hi>, edited by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Parke Godwin</hi>, +is issued in a second edition by George P. +Putnam, with a preface, showing the plagiarisms +which have been committed on it in a pretended +English translation from the original, by +one John Oxenford. This enterprising person +has made a bold appropriation of the American +version, with only such changes as might serve +the purpose of concealing the fraud. In addition +to this felonious proceeding, he charges +the translation to which he has helped himself +so freely, with various inaccuracies, not only +stealing the property, but giving it a bad name. +The work of the American editor has thus +found a singular, but effectual guarantee for its +value, and is virtually pronounced to be a translation +incapable of essential improvement. With +the resources possessed by Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Godwin</hi>, in his +own admirable command both of the German +and of the English language, and the aid of the +rare scholarship in this department of letters of +Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Charles A. Dana</hi> and +Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>John S. Dwight</hi>, +to whom a portion of the work was intrusted, he +could not fail to produce a version which would +leave little to be desired by the most fastidious +critic. It is unnecessary to speak of the merits +of the original, which is familiar to all who have +the slightest tincture of German literature. As +a history of the progress of literary culture in +Germany, as well as of the rich development of +Goethe's own mind, it is one of the most instructive, +and at the same time, the most entertaining +biographies in any language. +</p> + +<p> +Daniel Adee has republished, in a cheap +form, the twenty-first part of <hi rend='italic'>Braithwaite's +Retrospect of Practical Medicine and Surgery</hi>, a +work richly entitled to a place in every physician's +library. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Domestic History of the Revolution</hi>, by Mrs. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Ellet</hi> (Baker and Scribner), follows the thread +of the Revolutionary drama, unfolding many +agreeable and often touching incidents, which +have not been brought to light before, and illustrating +the manners and society of that day, in +connection with the great struggle for national +life. The researches of the author in collecting +materials for <q>The Women of the Revolution,</q> +have put her in possession of a variety of domestic +details and anecdotes, illustrative of the state +of the country at different intervals, which she +has used with excellent effect in the composition +of this volume. Without indulging in fanciful +embellishment, she has confined herself to the +simple facts of history, rejecting all traditional +matter, which is not sustained by undoubted +authority. The events of the war in the upper +districts of South Carolina, are described at +length, as, in the opinion of Mrs. Ellet, no history +has ever yet done justice to that portion of +the country, nor to the chivalrous actors who +there signalized themselves in the Revolutionary +contest. +</p> + +<p> +D. Appleton and Company have published an +interesting volume of American biography, entitled +<hi rend='italic'>Lives of Eminent Literary and Scientific +Men</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>James Wynne</hi>, M.D., comprising memoirs +of Franklin, President Edwards, Fulton, +Chief Justice Marshall, Rittenhouse, and Eli +Whitney. They are composed in a tone of +great discrimination and reserve, and scarcely +in a single estimate come up to the popular +estimation of the character described. Doctor +Franklin and President Edwards, especially, are +handled in a manner adapted to chill all enthusiasm +which may have been connected with their +names. Nor does the scientific fame of Robert +Fulton gather any new brightness under the +author's hands. This cool dissection of the +dead may not be in accordance with the public +taste, but in justice to the author, it should be +borne in mind that he is a surgeon by profession. +</p> + +<p> +The same house has issued an edition of +<hi rend='italic'>Cicero's Select Orations</hi>, with Notes, by Professor +<hi rend='smallcaps'>E.A. Johnson</hi>, in which liberal use has been +made of the most recent views of eminent German +philologists. The volume is highly creditable +to the industry and critical acumen of the +Editor, and will prove a valuable aid to the +student of the classics. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Lady Willoughby's Diary</hi> is reprinted by A.S. +Barnes and Co., New York—the first American +edition of a volume unrivaled for its sweetness +and genuine pathos. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Young Woman's Book of Health</hi>, by Dr. +<hi rend='smallcaps'>William A. Alcott</hi>, published by Tappan, +<pb n='716'/><anchor id='Pg716'/> +Whittemore, and Co., Boston, is an original +summary of excellent physiological precepts, +expressed with the simplicity and distinctness +for which the author is celebrated. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Songs of Labor and Other Poems</hi> is the title +of a new volume by <hi rend='smallcaps'>John G. Whittier</hi>, published +by Ticknor, Reed, and Fields, Boston, +containing the spirited lyrics which have already +gained a large share of favor in the public journals. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Poems of the Heart</hi>, by +<hi rend='smallcaps'>George W. Nicholson</hi>, +(G. S. Appleton, Philadelphia), is the <q>last +production of the author's boyhood,</q> and exhibits +the most decided marks of its origin. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>The Mariner's Vision</hi> is the title of a Poem +by <hi rend='smallcaps'>T.L. Donnelly</hi>, Philadelphia, evidently +written with little preparation, but showing +some traces of poetic talent, which may ripen +into excellence at a future day. +</p> + +<p> +A beautiful reprint of <hi rend='italic'>Æsop's Fables</hi>, edited +by Rev. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Thomas Garnes</hi>, with more than Fifty +Illustrations from <hi rend='smallcaps'>Tennial's</hi> designs has been +issued by Robert B. Collins, New York, in a +style of superb typography, which can not fail +to command the admiration of the amateur. +</p> + +<p> +The volume before us awakens recollections +of <q>by-gone days,</q> in the Publishers of this +Magazine, upon which we love to dwell. Æsop's +Fables was among the first books which passed +through our press. Some thirty years since, +we printed an edition of it for the late <hi rend='smallcaps'>Evert +Duyckinck</hi>, Esq. (father of the present accomplished +editors of the <hi rend='italic'>Literary World</hi>), one of +the leading booksellers and publishers of his day, +and, in every sense, <q>a good man and true,</q> as +well as one of our earliest and best friends. +His memory to us is precious—his early kindness +will ever live in our recollection. +</p> + +<p> +The name of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Collins</hi> (publisher of the present +edition), has been so long and closely associated +with the book trade in this country, that we +apprehend the public may feel some interest in +a short sketch of the rise and progress of this +most respectable publishing firm. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Isaac Collins</hi>, +a member of the Society of Friends, was +the founder of the house. He originally came +from Virginia, and commenced the printing and +bookselling business in the city of Trenton, New +Jersey, about the close of the Revolutionary War, +where he printed the first quarto Bible published +in America. This Bible was so highly esteemed +for its correctness, that the American Bible +Society was at some pains to obtain a copy, +from which to print their excellent editions of +the Scriptures. It would take too much space +to follow the various changes in the firm, under +the names of Isaac Collins, Isaac Collins & Son, +Collins, Perkins & Co., Collins & Co., down to +the establishment of the house of Collins & Hannay, +about the close of the last war. This concern +was composed of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Benjamin S. Collins</hi> +(the son of Isaac), and <hi rend='smallcaps'>Samuel Hannay</hi>, who +had been educated for the business by the old +house of Collins & Co. The enterprise, liberality, +and industry of this firm soon placed them +at the head of the book trade in the city of New +York, where they are still remembered with +respect and esteem by the thousands of customers +scattered all over our immense country, and +with affection and gratitude by many whose +fortunes were aided, and whose credit was established, +by their generous confidence and timely +aid. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Benjamin S. Collins</hi> is now living in +dignified retirement, on his farm in Westchester +County. Several other members of the family, +formerly connected with the bookselling business, +have also retired with a competency, and are now +usefully devoting their time and attention to the +promotion of the various charitable institutions +of the country. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Hannay</hi> died about a year +since—and here we may be permitted to record +our grateful memory of one of the best men, and +one of the most enterprising booksellers ever +known in our country. His exceeding modesty +prevented his marked and excellent qualities from +being much known out of the small circle of his immediate +friends—but by them he is remembered +with feelings of love and veneration. The house +of Collins & Hannay became subsequently B. +& S. Collins; Collins, Keese, & Co.; Collins, +Brother, & Co.; and Collins & Brother; now +at last <hi rend='smallcaps'>Robert B. Collins</hi>, the publisher of the +work under notice. We trust he may pursue +the path to fortune with the same honorable +purposes, by the same honorable means, and +with the same gratifying result, which signalized +the efforts of his worthy predecessors. +Nor are the names of the printer and stereotyper +of the present volume without a fraternal +interest. The printer, Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Van Norden</hi>, +one of our early and highly esteemed associates, +may now be termed a typographer of the old +school. The quality of his work is good evidence +that he is entitled to the reputation, which has +been long accorded to him, of being one of the +best printers in the country. The stereotyper +of this work, our old friend <hi rend='smallcaps'>Smith</hi>, is by no +means a novice in his department. We are +glad to see that he, too, so ably maintains his +long-established reputation. May the publisher, +the printer, and the stereotyper of this edition +of Æsop, ever rejoice in the sunshine of prosperity, +and may their shadows never be less! +</p> + +<p> +Geo. P. Putnam has published a work entitled +<hi rend='italic'>New Elements of Geometry</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Seba Smith</hi>, +which can not fail to attract the notice of the +curious reader, on account of the good faith and +evident ability with which it sustains what must +be regarded by all orthodox science as a system +of enormous mathematical paradoxes. The +treatise is divided into three parts, namely, The +Philosophy of Geometry, Demonstrations in +Geometry, and Harmonies of Geometry. In +opposition to the ancient geometers, by whom +the definitions and axioms of the science were +fixed, Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Smith</hi> contends that the usual division +of magnitudes into lines, surfaces, and solids is +without foundation, that every mathematical line +has a breadth, as definite, as measurable, and +as clearly demonstrable as its length, and that +every mathematical surface has a thickness, as +definite, as measurable, and as clearly demonstrable +<pb n='717'/><anchor id='Pg717'/> +as its length or breadth. The neglect +of this fact has hitherto prevented a perfect understanding +of the true relation between numbers, +magnitudes, and forms. Hence, the barrenness +of modern analytical speculation, which +has been complained of by high authorities, the +mathematical sciences having run into a luxuriant +growth of foliage, with comparatively small +quantities of fruit. This evil Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Smith</hi> supposes +will be avoided by adopting the principle, +that as the measurement of extension is the +object of geometry, lines without breadth, and +surfaces without thickness, are imaginary things, +of which this rigid and exact science can take +no cognizance. Every thing which comes +within the reach of geometry must have extension, +must have magnitude, must occupy +a portion of space, and accordingly must have +extension in every direction from its centre. +Hence, as there is but one kind of quantity +in geometry, lines, surfaces, and solids must +have identically the same unit of comparison, +and must be always perfect measures of each +other. The unit may be infinitely varied in +size—it being the name or representative of +any assumed magnitude to which it is applied—but +it always represents a magnitude of a definite +form, and hence a magnitude which has an +extension in every direction from its centre, +and consequently represents not only one in +length, but also one in breadth, and one in +thickness. One inch, for example, in pure +geometry, is always one cubic inch, but when +used to measure a line, or extension in one +direction, we take only one dimension of the +unit, namely, the linear edge of the cube, and +thus the operation not demanding either the +breadth or the thickness of the unit, geometers +have fallen into the error of supposing that a +line is length without any breadth. These are +the leading principles on which Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Smith</hi> +attempts the audacious task of rearing a new +fabric of geometrical science, without regard to +the wisdom of antiquity or the universal traditions +of the schools. To us outside barbarians in the +mysteries of mathematics, we confess that the +work has the air of an ingenious paradox; but +we must leave it to the professors to decide +upon its claims to be a substitute for Euclid, +Playfair, and Legendre. Every one who has a +fondness for dipping into these recondite subjects +will perceive in Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Smith's</hi> volume the marks +of profound research, of acute and subtle powers +of reasoning, and of genuine scientific enthusiasm, +combined with a noble freedom of thought, and +a rare intellectual honesty. For these qualities, +it is certainly entitled to a respectful mention +among the curiosities of literature, whatever +verdict may be pronounced on the scientific +claims of the author by a jury of his peers. +</p> + +<p> +Little and Brown, Boston, have issued an interesting +work by the Nestor of the New England press, +<hi rend='smallcaps'>Joseph T. Buckingham</hi>, entitled <hi rend='italic'>Specimens +of Newspaper Literature, with Personal Memoirs, +Anecdotes and Reminiscences</hi>, which comes +with a peculiar propriety from his veteran pen. +The personal experience of the author, in connection +with the press, extends over a period of +more than fifty years, during a very considerable +portion of which time he has been at the head +of a leading journal in Boston, and in the enjoyment +of a wide reputation, both as a bold and +vigorous thinker, and a pointed, epigrammatic, +and highly effective writer. In this last respect, +indeed, few men in any department of literature +can boast of a more familiar acquaintance with +the idiomatic niceties of our language, or a +more skillful mastery of its various resources, +than the author of the present volumes. His influence +has been sensibly felt, even among the +purists of the American Athens, and under the +very droppings of the Muses' sanctuary at Cambridge, +in preserving the <q>wells of English undefiled</q> +from the corruptions of rash innovators +on the wholesome, recognized canons of language. +His sarcastic pen has always been a terror to +evil doers in this region of crime. In the work +before us, we should have been glad of a larger +proportion from the author himself, instead of +the copious extracts from the newspapers of old +times, which, to be sure, have a curious antiquarian +interest, but which are of too remote a +date to command the attention of this <q>fast</q> +generation. The sketches which are given +of several New England celebrities of a past +age are so natural and spicy, as to make +us wish that we had more of them. Materials +for a third volume, embracing matters of a more +recent date, we are told by the author, are not +wanting; we sincerely hope that he will permit +them to see the light; and especially that the +call for this publication may not be defeated by +an event, as he intimates, <q>to which all are +subject—an event which may happen to-morrow, +and must happen soon.</q> +</p> + +<p> +A new edition of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Edward Everett's</hi> <hi rend='italic'>Orations +and Speeches</hi>, in two large and elegant +octavos, has been published by Little and Brown, +including in the first volume the contents of the +former edition, and in the second volume, the +addresses delivered on various occasions, since +the year 1836. In an admirably-written Preface +to the present edition, Mr. Everett gives a +slight, autobiographical description of the circumstances +in which his earlier compositions +had their origin, and in almost too deprecatory +a tone, apologizes for the exuberance of style +and excess of national feeling with which they +have sometimes been charged. In our opinion, +this appeal is uncalled for, as we can nowhere +find productions of this class more distinguished +for a virginal purity of expression, and grave +dignity of thought. As a graceful, polished, +and impressive rhetorician, it would be difficult +to name the superior of Mr. Everett, and had he +not been too much trammeled by the scruples +of a fastidious taste, with his singular powers +of fascination, he would have filled a still broader +sphere than that which he has nobly won in the +literature of his country. We gratefully welcome +the announcement with which the preface +concludes, and trust that it will be carried into +<pb n='718'/><anchor id='Pg718'/> +effect at an early date. <q>It is still my purpose, +should my health permit, to offer to the public +indulgence a selection from a large number of +articles contributed by me to the North American +Review, and from the speeches, reports, +and official correspondence, prepared in the discharge +of the several official stations which I +have had the honor to fill at home and abroad. +Nor am I wholly without hope that I shall be +able to execute the more arduous project to +which I have devoted a good deal of time for +many years, and toward which I have collected +ample materials—that of a systematic treatise +on the modern law of nations, more especially +in reference to those questions which have been +discussed between the governments of the United +States and Europe since the peace of 1783.</q> +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Echoes of the Universe</hi> is the title of a work +by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Henry Christmas</hi>, reprinted by A. Hart, +Philadelphia, containing a curious store of speculation +and research in regard to the more +mystical aspects of religion, with a strong tendency +to pass the line which divides the sphere +of legends and fictions from the field of well-established +truth. The author is a man of learning +and various accomplishments; he writes in +a style of unusual sweetness and simplicity; his +pages are pervaded with reverence for the wonders +of creation; and with a singular freedom +from the skeptical, destructive spirit of the day, +he is startled by no mystery of revelation, however +difficult of comprehension by the understanding. +The substance of this volume was +originally delivered in the form of letters to an +Episcopal Missionary Society in England. It +is now published in a greatly enlarged shape, +with the intention of presenting the truths of +religion in an interesting aspect to minds that +are imbued with the spirit of modern cultivation. +Among the Echoes that proceed from the world +of matter, the author includes those that are +uttered by the solar system, the starry heavens, +the laws of imponderable fluids, the discoveries +of geology, and the natural history of Scripture. +To these, he supposes, that parallel Echoes may +be found from the world of Spirit, such as the +appearance of a Divine Person, recorded in +Sacred History, the visitations of angels and +spirits of an order now higher than man, the +apparitions of the departed spirits of saints, +the cases recorded of demoniacal possession, +and the manner in which these narratives +are supported and explained by reason and +experience. The seen and the unseen, the +physical and the immaterial, according to the +author, will thus be shown to coincide, and the +Unity of the Voice proved by the Unity of the +Echo. This is the lofty problem of the volume, +and if it is not solved to the satisfaction of every +reader, it will not be for the want of a genial +enthusiasm and an adamantine faith on the part +of the author. +</p> + +<p> +The same house has published a neat edition +of Miss <hi rend='smallcaps'>Benger's</hi> popular <hi rend='italic'>Memoir of Anne +Boleyn</hi>. +</p> + +<p> +A new work by <hi rend='smallcaps'>W. Gilmore Simms</hi>, entitled +<hi rend='italic'>The Lily and Totem</hi>, (Baker and Scribner, New +York) consists of the romantic legends connected +with the establishment of the Huguenots in +Florida, embroidered upon a substantial fabric +of historical truth, with great ingenuity and +artistic effect. The basis of the work is laid +in authentic history; facts are not superseded +by the romance; all the vital details of the +events in question are embodied in the narrative +but when the original record is found to be deficient +in interest, the author has introduced such +creations of his own as he judged in keeping +with the subject, and adapted to picturesque +impression. It was his first intention to have +made the experiment of Coligny in the colonization +of Florida, the subject of a poem; but dreading +the want of sympathy in the mass of readers, +he decided on the present form, as more adapted +to the popular taste, though perhaps less in accordance +with the character of the theme. With +his power of graphic description, and the mild +poetical coloring which he has thrown around +the whole narrative, Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>Simms</hi> will delight the +imaginative reader, while his faithful adherence +to the spirit of the history renders him an instructive +guide through the dusky and faded +memorials of the past. One of the longest +stories in the volume is the <q>Legend of Guernache,</q> +a record of love and sorrow, scarcely +surpassed in sweetness and beauty by any thing +in the romance of Indian history. +</p> + +<p> +<hi rend='italic'>Reminiscences of Congress</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>Charles W. +March</hi>, (Baker and Scribner, New York), is +principally devoted to the personal and political +history of <hi rend='smallcaps'>Daniel Webster</hi>, of whom it relates +a variety of piquant anecdotes, and at the same +time giving an analysis of his most important +speeches on the floor of Congress. The leading +statesmen of the United States, without reference +to party, are made to sit for their portraits, +and are certainly sketched with great boldness +of delineation, though, in some cases, the free +touches of the artist might be accused of caricature. +Among the distinguished public men who +are introduced into this gallery are John Q. +Adams, Clay, Calhoun, Benton, Jackson, and +Van Buren, whose features can not fail to be +recognized at sight, however twisted, in some +respects, they may be supposed to be by their +respective admirers. Mr. <hi rend='smallcaps'>March</hi> has had ample +opportunities for gaining a familiar acquaintance +with the subjects he treats; his observing +powers are nimble and acute; without any remarkable +habits of reflection, he usually rises to +the level of his theme; and with a command of +fluent and often graceful language, his style, for +the most part, is not only readable but eminently +attractive. +</p> + +<p> +A new and greatly enlarged edition of <hi rend='italic'>Mental +Hygeine</hi>, by <hi rend='smallcaps'>William Sweetser</hi>, has been published +by Geo. P. Putnam—a volume which discusses +the reciprocal influence of the mental +and physical conditions, with clearness, animation, +and good sense. It is well adapted for +popular reading, no less than for professional use. +</p> + +</div> + +<pb n='719'/><anchor id='Pg719'/> + +<div rend='page-break-before: always'> +<index index='toc'/> +<index index='pdf'/> +<head>Autumn Fashions.</head> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p719a.png' rend='width: 70%'> + <head>Fig. 1. Evening Costume.</head> + <figDesc>Illustration.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +Evening Dresses. White is generally adopted for the evening toilet. Muslin, +<foreign rend='italic'>tulle</foreign>, and <foreign rend='italic'>barege</foreign> +form elegant and very beautiful textures for this description of dress. They are +decorated with festooned flounces, cut in deep square vandykes; the muslins are +richly embroidered. A <foreign rend='italic'>barege</foreign>, trimmed with narrow +<foreign rend='italic'>ruches</foreign> of white silk ribbon, placed upon the edge, +has the appearance of being pinked at the edge. Those of white +<foreign rend='italic'>barege</foreign> covered with bouquets of flowers, are +extremely elegant, trimmed with three deep flounces, finished at the edge with a +<foreign rend='italic'>chicoree</foreign> of green ribbon forming a wave; the same +description of <foreign rend='italic'>chicoree</foreign> may be placed upon the top +of the flounces. Corsage <foreign rend='italic'>a la</foreign> Louis XV., trimmed +with <foreign rend='italic'>ruches</foreign> to match. For dresses of +<foreign rend='italic'>tulle</foreign>, those with double skirts are most in vogue. +Those composed of Brussels <foreign rend='italic'>tulle</foreign> with five skirts, +each skirt being finished with a broad hem, through which passes a pink ribbon, are +extremely pretty. The skirts are all raised at the sides with a large moss rose +encircled with its buds, the roses diminishing in size toward the upper part. These +skirts are worn over a petticoat of a lively pink silk, so that the color shows through +the upper fifth skirt. As to the corsage, they all resemble each other; the Louis +XV. and Pompadour being those only at present in fashion. +</p> + +<p rend='text-align: center'> + <figure url='images/p719b.png' rend='width: 60%'> + <head>Fig. 2. Morning Costume.</head> + <figDesc>Illustration.</figDesc> + </figure> +</p> + +<p> +A very beautiful evening dress is represented by fig. 1, which shows a front and +back view. It is a pale lavender dress of striped satin; the body plaited +diagonally, both back and front, the plaits meeting +<pb n='720'/><anchor id='Pg720'/> +in the centre. It has a small <foreign rend='italic'>jacquette</foreign>, pointed at the back as well as the front; plain sleeve +reaching nearly to the elbow, finished by a lace ruffle, or frill of the same. The skirt is long +and full, and has a rich lace flounce at the bottom. The breadths of satin are put together so +that the stripes meet in points at the seams. +Head dress, with lace lappets. +</p> + +<p> +Fig. 2 represents an elegant style of +body, worn over a skirt of light lavender +silk, with three flounces, each edged with +a double <foreign rend='italic'>rûche</foreign>, trimmed with narrow ribbon. +The body is of embroidered muslin, +the small skirt of which is trimmed with +two rows of lace; the sleeves are wide; +they are three-quarter length and are +trimmed with three rows of lace and rosettes +of pink satin ribbon. This is for a +morning costume. +</p> + +<p> +Another elegant style of morning home +dress, is composed of Valenciennes cambric; +the corsage plaited or fulled, so as +to form a series of crossway fullings, which +entirely cover the back and front of the +bust, the centre of which is ornamented +with a <foreign rend='italic'>petit décolletté</foreign> in the +shape of a lengthened heart; the same +description of centre-piece is placed +at the back, where it is closed by +means of buttons and strings, ingeniously +hidden by the fullings. The +lower part of the body forms but a +slight point, and is round and stiffened, +from which descends a <foreign rend='italic'>châtelaine</foreign>, +formed by a wreath of <foreign rend='italic'>plumetis</foreign>, +descending to the edge of the dress, +and bordered on each +side with a large inlet, +gradually widening toward +the lower part of +the skirt. +</p> + +<p> +Fashionable Colors. It is almost impossible to state which colors most prevail, all are so +beautifully blended and intermixed; those, however, which seem most in demand are maroon, +sea-green, blue, <foreign rend='italic'>pensée,</foreign> &c. +</p> + +</div> + +</body> +<back rend="page-break-before: right"> + <div id="footnotes"> + <index index="toc" /> + <index index="pdf" /> + <head>Footnotes</head> + <divGen type="footnotes"/> + </div> + <div rend="page-break-before: right"> + <divGen type="pgfooter" /> + </div> +</back> +</text> +</TEI.2> diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p577.png b/33452-tei/images/p577.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..10817d4 --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p577.png diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p581.png b/33452-tei/images/p581.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..994733f --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p581.png diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p584.png b/33452-tei/images/p584.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..748de9f --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p584.png diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p586.png b/33452-tei/images/p586.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..df52ccd --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p586.png diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p719a.png b/33452-tei/images/p719a.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0b6464b --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p719a.png diff --git a/33452-tei/images/p719b.png b/33452-tei/images/p719b.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f13ce69 --- /dev/null +++ b/33452-tei/images/p719b.png |
