]ATTELLS LIVING AGE.No. 619.S APRIL, 1850. From the Edinburgh Review. 1. Despatches of Captain M Clure during the Voyage of H. M. S. Investigator to the Polar Seas. 18501854. (Arctic Papers, presented to Parliament, 1855.) 2. A Series of Eight Sketches in Color, to- gether with a Chart of the Route of the Voyage of H. M. S. Investigator during the Discovery of the North- West Passage. By Lieutenant Gurney Cress- well, R. N. London: 18~4. 3. The Last of the Arctic Voyages. By Captain Sir Edward Beicher, R. N. 2 vols. London: 1855. 4. Narrative of Arctic Discovery; from the Earliest Period to the Present Time. By T. C. ~hullinglaw, F. R. G. S. HAD the voyage of II. M. S. Investio~a 0 tor taken place five and twenty years ago, a nations applause would have greeted its completion, and honor and emolument at once been showered on the dauntless captaia and the sturdy crew who have solved the question of centuries, and accomplished in their own persons the long-sought North-west Passage. It is at present more as an example of human endurance and of unshaken perseverance, that the voyage of the Investigator excites our curiosity and our interest. Three hundred years have elapsed since John Cabot and his son Sebastian set forth in search of a North-west Passage, through unexplored seas; and not long afterwards, Sir Hugh Willoughby and his ships company, after vainly attempting to make their way to the eastward, were found by some Russian fishermen, a frozen monument to the severity of the climate. Two centuries and a half have passed since Frobishers ships dropped down the river, past the palace of Greenwich, where amid the salutes of artillery the Maid- en Queen waved her hand, in token of good wishes, to the departing voyagers. In Mr. Shillinglaws book a succinct statement of these and other unavailing attempts is to be found; nor, as a hand-book for Arctic adven- ture and discovery, can anything be more useful or accurate than his unpretending little volume. Except the voyage of the Russian navigator Behring, in 1741, for above a hun- dred years little more was attempted in cx- Dcxix. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiii. 1 pioring these Northern Seas. But early in the reign of George ILL, interest in the subject was again awakened in England, and in 1773 an expedition was sent forth under Captain Constantine John Phipps. Lord Nelson, then a youngster, served in one of these yes. sels. This attempt to the North-west entirely failing, Captain Cook was chosen for the en- deavor to effect a North-east passage, from the Pacific to the Atlantic Ocean. This gal- lant navigator left Plymouth Sound July 1776, and by August in the year following had struggled on to Icy Cape, from that time till the voyage of Admiral Beechy the furthest boundary of North-eastern discovery. Again fifty years passed without any fur- ther attempt, till Sir John Ross followed by way of Davis Straits and Baflins Bay. He sailed from the Thames in April 1818, and returned in October, having scarcely effected anything. His young lieutenant, Parry, who could never be made to understand why his chief turned back at the entrance to Sir James Lancasters Sound, took up the enterprise~ Captain Parry, in command of the ilecla and Griper, left England May 1819. On the 4th of September, this expedition having crossed the meridian of 110~ west from Green- wich, in the lat. of 740 44 20, the crews became entitled to the Government reward of 5000. Captain Parry pushed on till the 8th, when in lat. 740 20 N., long. 113~ 47 W., his further course was arrested by an immoveable body of ice. But it was here that the coast of Banks Land was first seen across the strait which divides it from Melville Island. To this point, Parrys furthest, as it is now termed, we would especially direct atten- tion. A quarter of a century was to elapse before that ice-bound strait should be again visited, and then from an opposite quarter of the globe. The following season, finding fur- ther progress impossible, Parry returned to England. In the same year (1819) Franklin under- took his terrible journey to the northern shores of America. He was three years ab- sent, having, with the intrepid Back and his faithful companion Richardson, travelled be.. DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. tween five and six thousand miles, and endured unparalleled hardships. But he returned to England, having established the existence of an Arctic Ocean, into which fall the Copper- mine and Mackenzie Rivers, but which is apparently impassable for all purposes of navigation. From that time the task of Arctic discovery rested till 1845, when, mainly under the aus- pices of the late Sir John Barrow, another expedition was resolved on by the Admiralty. It was thought that neither as a nautical nor as a scientific matter, did it become the Eng- lish navy thus to leave the question, whether the great Pacific and Atlantic Oceans were united or not by a polar or arctic sea, extend- ing along the whole breadth of North Amer- ica; and, although the sterile and hopeless nature of these voyages had long been ascer- tained, they seemed to have acquired a fasci- nating power over those who projected or engaged in them, which was heightened by the contest with almost insuperable obstacles. A long peace had closed almost every avenue to fame or promotion. At that time, great credit was attached to the endurance of Arctic voyagers, and no sooner was it known that such an expedition was contemplated, than volunteers pressed forwards, eager for employ- ment. The gallant veteran, Sir John Frank- lin, undertook the command. The Erebus and Terror~ left England in 1845. No two ships ever quitted our shores whose his- tory or whose fate has so much arrested public attention. Nearly thirty vessels, of various sizes and descriptions; fitted out by public or by private means in England or America, have been sent forth in search of them. In 1~4S, the third year of their absence, three separate expeditions were planned by Govern- ment. One for Behrings Straits, under Kel- let and Moore; the course proposed being, that, whilst the Plover~ and herald were securely placed for the winter, whaling boats should pursue the search along the coast of America. Another party, under Sir John Richardson, was to proceed by way of the Hudsons Bay settlements, to examine the shore between the Mackenzie and Copper- mine Rivers. The third, and to this the chief importance was attached, was to consist of two vessels, in every possible way strength. ened, prepared, and provisioned, to pursue the route through Lancasters Sound, Bar- rows Straits, and then push to the west- ward. The Enterprise, 470 tons, and the In- vestigator, 460 tons, were the vessels chosen for this purpose. They left England, June 12th, 1848, under the commai~d of Captain Sir James Clark Ross; they wintered in Port Leopold, at the entrance of Prince Regents Inlet. Little travelling, compared with later expeditions, was attemptqd, one journey ex- cepted, by Captain Ross himself, reaching lat. 720 38 N., and long. 950 40 W. The health of the men suffered greatly from the bad and offensive nature of some of the pre- served food supplied to them. On the 1st of September, 1849, shortly after leaving win- ter quarters, the vessels became involved in a vast field of consolidated ice, to the north of Barrows Straits, in which they remained for three weeks, drifting in utter helplessness. Then suddenly their icy prison opened, the huge field was split into innumerable frag- ments, the adventurers regained the open sea, and on the 5th of November the ships reached England. Bitter was the disappointment through the length and breadth of the land to find that so little had been accomplished, and no tidings brought home of the fate of our missing countrymen. Immediate prepara- tions were made for renewed exertions. The Enterprise and Investigator were again put in commission, and every possible means employed to hasten their preparation. The command of the expedition was entrusted to Captain Richard Collinson; but this time a far different route was to be attempted. Cap- tain Collinsons orders were to pass through the Straits of Magellan, refresh at the Sand- wich Islands, push on for Bebrings Straits, and after passing them, bear away to the eastward for Banks Land and Melville Island. Commander MClure, late first lieutenant of the Enterprise, was~ppointed to command the second ship. Hardy in frame, resolute of purpose, no one could have been selected more likely to wrest success from the most adverse circum- stances. Robert John Le Mesurier MClure, the future discoverer of the North-west Pas- sage, was born at Wexford, the residence of his maternal grandfather, archdeacon Elgee, January 28th, 1807, some months after the death of his father, Captain IClure of the 89th regiment. lIe, ivent, first to Eton Ccl- 2 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. lege, and then to Sandhurst; but military life was distasteful to him, and he entered the navy when about seventeen years of age. He had been twelve years afloat, generally in active service, when, in 1836, he volunteered to join Captain (now Sir George) Backs ex- pedition, in the attempt to reach Repulse Bay. On his return from that perilous voyage, in the autumn of the year following, he obtained his lientenancy, and shortly af- terwards served in the Hastings, em- ployed to convey Lord Durham to his C~lo- nial Government. In Canada, he joined an expedition against a noted freebooter of the name of Kelly, for whose capture Govern- ment had offered a large reward. The rob- ber chief was taken, and his well-defended fort burned to the ground. Lieutenant MClure was afterwards placed in command of the Romney, receiving ship at the Ha- vanna, and subsequently employed in the Coast Guard at home. On the first rumors of Sir James Ross appointment to the com- mand of an expedition in search of Sir John Franklin in 1848, MClure offered his servi- ces, and was appointed first lieutenant of the Enterprise. The Enterprise and Investigator left Woolwich for the second time, January 10th, 1850, and sailed from Plymouth on the 20th of the same month. On the 27th the Investigator, a slower vessel than the Enterprise, lost sight of her consort, nor did they meet again till the 16th of April in the Straits of Magellan. H. M. Steamship Gorgon, Commander Painter, awaited their arrival, to tow them through the Straits. After casting off the Enterprise, which im- mediately pursued her way for the Sandwich Islands, the Gorgon returned to assist the Investi~ator. At the Sandwich Islands, Commander MClure had the mortification to find that the Enterprise had sailed from Honolulu twenty-four hours before his arri- val. Ably assisted by Captain Auldham, then senior officer upon that station, in ob- taining needful stores and fresh provisions, the Investigator was ready again for sea on the 4th of July, three days after casting anchor in Honolulu harbor. Captain Collinsons instructions, left for Commander MClure, dated Oahu, June 29th, were to follow him as soon as possible to Cape Lisburne, and thence, if he had no further orders or directions, to press forward as circumstances might permit to the north- east in the direction of Melville Island. And here we~ meet with the first link in the re- markable chain of favorable coincidences to be traced in the Investigators story~ A few hours before her departure from the Sandwich Islands, the Cockatrice came in with letters and despatches from England. She brought all the parliamentary papers affecting the researches for Sir John Frank- lin, and also the information that an expedi- tion under Captain Austin was to leave Eng- ~land in the spring of that year for Lancasters Sound and Barrows Straits. The orders to Captain Austin not only directed searches far the Erebus sand Terror to the west and north-west; but especially menfioned Melville Island. To meet their brother ad- venturers midway in the frozen north, or to pass them in the race, and, crossing their track, accomplish the route to England by the north-east, became now the object of intense excitement amongst the Investigators; but the season was already far advanced, Cap- tain Collinson was ahead of them, and would probably have entered the ice long before they could overtake him, as he had a much better sailing vessel, and four days start from Honolulu. Another singular circumstance now oc- curred. The captain of an American whaler fell in with Commander MClure. This man had long navigated those seas, and he coun- selled Commander MClure, instead of fol- lowing the usual track to about 170~ W. long., which Captain Collinson had taken, to make ~a straight course for Bebrings Straits, passing through the Aleutian group of islands. To a prompt and daring spirit as Commander MClures, to hear was to decide; and on the 4th of July he left honolulu, with a stiff breeze in the desired quarter. Twenty-five days and nights the wind blew steadily, scarcely varying a point, till on the 30th of July the Investigator was off Cape Lis- burne, Behrings Straits, and the Aleutian Islands, with their fogs and shoals, behind her, and the ice-world, whither she was hastening, visible from her mast-head. So wonderful and successful a run scarcely stands on record. The spirits of all on board rose. I would not change places with any man in Europe, wrote one young officer to his friends in England. You may yet hear of our doing something, said another. The 3 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. men shared in the enthusiasm of their officers, and we find them a few days later accom- panying their work with cheers and singing, when employed for six successive hours in towing the vessel through a sea heavily en- cumbered with broken ice. At Cape Lis- burne they parted company with the her- ald, Captain Kellett, after confiding to his care their farewell letters for England. Cap- tain Kellett, as senior officer, shrank from the responsibility of allowing a single ship to enter on so dangerous a service. With a consort, in case of accidents, there is a chance of succor or escape; but the risk seemed too fearful, for a solitary vessel to attempt the navigation of seas wholly unknown and unexplored by civilized man. Boat expedi- tions bad made their way in various directions along the shores of North Ameriea; but Captain Pullen and other experienced officers believed that for any larger vessel the naviga- ~tion was impossible. To the North lay the unbroken polar. track; to the South, the coast of North America, abounding in shoals and inlets, rocks and sand banks, and except for a few weeks in summer studded with drift- ing floes, besides the perpetual formation of young ice, driven about by currents or pre- vailing winds. Such was the navigation be- fore them; nor is it wonderful that Captain Kellet hesitated and would fain have per- suaded MClure to forego the risk. MClure pleaded his own Commanders orders, the urgency of the case, and added his determin- ation to proceed unless directly prohibited by his senior officer, on whom, and on whom alone, the responsibility should rest. Cap- tain Kellett withdrew his veto, and, under a press of canvas, the Investigator bore away to the North-west. This experienced Arctic voyager knew but too well the possi- ble doom awaiting her: again his resolution wavered, and from the mast-head of the Herald the signal for recall was hoisted, but the moment was past, and he had for answer, duty special, own responsi- bility, cannot return. To the Admiralty Commander MClure wrote, that in accordance with the directions given him, his endeavor would be to force a way to the North-east, and so reach Banks Land. After examining its shores, to pro- ceed to Melville Island, and continue the saarch there. He knew that Captain Aus- tins expedition was enjoined to go to Melville Island; moreover, that this island was con- sidered the most advanced point of Arctic geography, terminating Barrows Straits, and opening to the North-west on the still unex- plored regions which lay beyond it. On the the Inves 5th of August tigator changed numbers with the Plover, and here fairly her voyage of discovery began. All known places and things left behind them, Com- mander MClure and his cre~v had of human help but themselves, and of outward means but their own well-provided ship for strength or assistance. But they ~vere employed in a noble work, to seek and to succor their lost countrymen; their health was excellent, their courage high; one spirit pervaded cap- tain, officers, and men; and, above all, the most careless could not but acknowledge that a guiding hand had hitherto been so emin- ently with them, that they might confide their future in trust and hope to its care. The Investigators course from that time along the northern shores of America was a continued struggle against every variety of obstacle; occasionally sailing for a few miles through open water; then steering a narrow and perilous track between the ice- floes and the coast, the shoal water endanger- ing her grounding at one moment, and at another the fearful polar pack apparently settling down upon her and driving her on the land. Then again from time to tune be- guiled by an opening in the pack, Comman- der MClure flattered himself that their way was clear, and that by pursuing a north-east- erly course, they might attain the Banks Land of Parry, or the north of Melville Island. But in this attempt they ever failed ; for how- ever far the opening led them, in one instance above seventy miles, it was found at last to be but a cul-de-sac of larger dimensions. Every heap of stones or apparent signal-pose was examined; continued intercourse was kept up with the Esquimaux, and through Mr. Miertsehing, their excellent interpreter, inquiries the most searching instituted as to any white men having been seen or heard of. They bartered trifles with the natives, some- times for ducks and salmon; and on more than one occasion entrusted letters to their care, hoping that some document through the Hudsons Bay Company settlements might reach England and tell of their whereabouts. Yet with all these impediments they continued to make way, and on the 6th of September 4 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. 5 had traversed upwards of 600 miles, and were east, insured good progress in that direction. approaching the longitude of Melville Island. Returning on board at 1 1. M. we made sail But here we will let Commander MClure, in to the eastward, having a beating wind.~ his despatch to the Admiralty, recount his Hairbreadth escapes and innumerable diffi- own story. culties assailed theni from this time until the At 4 A. M. upon the morning of the 6th, 8th of October, when, after a nip which we were off the small island near Cape Parry, lifted the vessel a foot, and heeled her forty bearing N. E. by N. ten miles, with a fine degrees to port, she settled into winter westerly breeze, and loose sailing ice, inter- quarters in lat. 740 47 N. long. 1l0~ 48 W. spersed with many heavy floe pieces; the No description can convey an idea to the main pack was about three miles to the N W., apparently one solid mass. At 11.30 reader of the stern grandeur and appalling A. M. high land was observed on the port bow, severity of this struggle between the skill bearing N. E. by N. distant about fifty miles. and daring of the Arctic navigators and the On approaching it, the main pack appeared inexorable forces which rule that wintry to be resting upon the western shore, which ocean. We must turn to the admirable colored side it was my intention to have coasted, had sketches published from the drawings of one it been possible; the eastern one being, how- of the officers engaged in this expedition, to ever, comparatively clear, as far as could be ascertained from the mast-head, decided me enable us to form a conception of the daw~ to follow the water, supposing it an island gers which seemed at every instant about to round which a passage would be found into annihilate this frail and solitary vessel. the Polar Sea. We continued working to An adventure very characteristic of Polar windward the whole of the night, and by travelling occurred on the 10th. Compmander 9.30 A. M. of the 7th were off the South Cape, MClure, accompanied by Lieut. Gurney a fine bold head-land, the cliffs rising per- Cre pendicularly upwards of a thousand feet sswell, Dr. Armstrong, and Mr. Miert- which was named Lord Nelsons Head, sching, left the ship to erect a pole and take in memory of that hero, whose early career possession of Prince Alberts Land opposite was connected with Arctic adventure. We Barings Island. Anxious to extend their shortly afterwards hove to, and, with the view, they ascended a hill about five miles first whaleboat and cutter, landed and took off, l~00 feet in height. From this spot possession in the name of Her Most Gracious Commander MC Majesty, calling it Barings Island, in . lure hoped to see the open- honor of the First Lord of the Admiralty. A ing into Barrows Straits, but intervening pole was erected, with a large painted ball land prevented his attaining his object, and upon it, near a cask, which was left contain- disappointed and fatigued they prepared to ing a notification and other particulars of return. Great was their annoyance to find our having been there. The sights obtained the ice floated from the shore, and that 100 by artificial horizon place the signal staff in yards of water separated it from their travel- latitude 71~ 6 N., longitude 123~ 0 W hug ground. F or miles they walked along and the fall of the tide was ascertained to ~ the margin, falling and stumbling over broken six inches during one hour and a half. We observed numerous traces of reindeer, hare, ice. Whilst daylight remained they trusted and wild fowl; moss and divers species of to find some floating piece, on which to ferry wild flowers were also in great abundance; across; when darkness rendered this impos.. many specimens were of them, equally as of sible, by firing their guns they strove to a~- other subjects of interest to the naturalist, tract attention, but the distance from the ship selected with much care by Dr. Armstrong. was too great for their signals to be heard. From an elevation obtained of about 500 Me feet, we had a fine view towards the interior, ~nwhile, on board, their prolonged absence which was well clothed with moss, giving a occasioned no little alarm, and parties were verdant appearance to the ranges of hills dispersed in various directions to seek theni. that rose gradually to between 2,000 and About 8.30 r. x. Mr. Court, the second maa 3,000 feet, intersected with ravines which ter, descried the flash of a gun, though when must convey a copious supply of water to a near enough to communicate, he found a lar~e lake situated in the centre of a wide plain, about 15 miles distant; the sight to broad lane of water flowing between them seaward was favorable in the extreme; open On his way back for assistance, he fell in water, with a very small quantity of ice, for with another party bringing two of llalketts the distance of full forty miles toward th~ India-ru)~ber portable boats. With the help DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. of these, after eighteen hours walking with- out food or shelter, the weary travellers found thQmselves once more on board. The proximity to Barrows Straits was, however, too tempting to allow of inactivity, and on the 21st of October, Commander MClure, with a small well-chosen party, set forth by sledge travelling to ascertain their exact position. Accidents with the sledge, and other obstacles, delayed their projess; but Captain M~Clures own unpretending words should alone be used to describe the event which brought him within reach of the very point at Which Sir Edward Parry had arrived from the opposite direction, in Sep- tember 1819, and thus enabled him to com- plete the circuit of Arctic discovery. At 3.45 r. M. we had the extreme grati- fication of pitching our tents upon the shores of Barrows Strait, in lat. 730 31 N., long. 1140 39 W. (chronometer long. 114~ 14 lunar) nearly on the line, as represented in the charts, where Sir Edward Parry has very correctly marked the loom of the land. Upon the following morning, before sunrise, Mr. Court and myself ascended a small hill about 600 feet in height, so that we could command an extensive view of forty or fifty miles. The extreme point of Prince Alberts Land bore long. 78~ E. true, about thirty-five miles, the furthest land N. N. E. eight miles. The Melville Island shore could not be discovered, but in that direction the ice appeared to be very heavy, and the floes exceedingly large. While we were making these observations, the crew were busily engaged erecting a cairn about fifteen feet above the water (which had been named Prince of Wales Strait, in honor of his Royal Highness), in which a common cylinder was deposited. The spot is so con- spicuous that any person passing along the ~ore must remark it. This feat achieved, preparations were made for winter quarters, now an old tale to Eng- lish readers: the deck roofed in, sails stowed away, precautions taken to keep out the cold, winter clothes and bedding served out, and arrangements made which experience ha8 shown to be conducive to health and comfort. To the greater part of the officers and men there was at least the charm of novelty in an Arctic winter. Not so - with Commander MClure: besides serving as mate in Sir george (then Captain) Backs terrible voyage in the Terror of 183637, he passed a winter and two summers in the ice with Sir James Ross, as first lieutenant of 4Ie En terprise; Lieutenant Gurney Cresswell had served in that expedition as mate of the In- vestigator, and some of the se~ men h~ d been in Sir Ja~mes Ross squadron. The weather of that year did not prove particularly severe, and the spring of 1851 found all on board ready for spl~ing servic2. At this period the cold lessening in intensity makes travellin~ possible, whilst t~be ice re- taining the hardness of winter faciti tes the draught of the sledge. Captain MClures despatches contain details of the different travelling parties, their adventures and suc- cesses, but no traces of the passage of ships or of civilized man appeared in any direction. Lieut. Haswell had fallen in with Esquimaux, but obtained no information from them Lieut. Cresswell coasted three sides of Bar- ings Land, but equally without success as to the main object of their voyage. Mr. Wyn- niatts researches also proved unsuccessful. Without allowing for indentations of the shore, 800 ~niles of coast were closely though vainly examined. During their absence hunting parties had been sent forth and the ship re- p~ire4 az~4 flitted for service. On the 14th kf July 1851, the Investi- gator was once more afloat, and recoin- menced her battle with the elements in the endeavor to shape a north-easterly course and force her way into Barrows Strait. Till the 16th of August the struggle was continued with varied success, when the vessel drifted with the ice for fifteen miles to the south- west, whilst the pack could be seen extending in one unbroken line to the eastward. Under these circumstances, although twenty-five miles only from the entrance to Barrows Strait, Captain MClure relinquished the ate. tempt, and resolved upon trying it from the north-west by circumnavigating Barings Island. We must give this part of the nar- rative as we find it in Captain MClure s despatches from the 19th to the 29th of Au- gust, the scene lying to the west and north.. west of Barings Island. It is impossible to conceive a more terrific situation. Upon the morning of the 19th, we passed between two small islands lying at the cii. trance of what appeared a deep inlet running E. S. E., and then turning sharp to the N.211 It had a barrier of ice extending across, which prevented any examination. Wish- ing to keep between the northernmost of these islands and the mainland, to avoid the 0 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. pack which was very near it, we narrowly escaped getting on shore, as a reef extehded from the latter to within half-a-mile of the island. Fortunately, the wind being light, we rounded to with all the studding sails set, arid let go the anchor in two-and-a-half fathoms, having about four inches to spare under the keel, and warped into four, while Mr. Court was sent to find a channel, in which he succeeded, carryingthree fathoms, through which we ran for one mile, and then continued our course in eight, having from three to five miles between the ice and land. At 8 s~. M. we neared two other islands, the ice resting upon the westernmost, upon which the pressure must have been excessive, as large masses were forced nearly over its summit, which was upwards of forty feet. Between these and the main we ran through a channel in from nine to fifteen fathoms, when an im- mediate and marked change took place in the general appearance and formation of the land; it became high, precipitous, sterile, and rugged, intersected with deep ravines and water-courses, having sixty-five fathoms at a quarter of a mile, and fifteen fathoms a hundred yards from the cliffs, which proved exceedingly fortunate, as the whole pack~ which had apparently only just broken from the shore, was within half a mile, and in many places so close to it that to avoid get- ting beset we had nearly to touch the land; indeed, upon several occasions the boats were compelled to be topped up, and poles used to keep the vessel off the grounded ice, which ex- tends all along this coast; nor could we round to, fearful of carrying the jibboom away against the cliffs, which here run nearly east and west. The Cape forming its extreme, I have called Prince Alfred, in honor of his Royal Hiohness. There were two apparently good harI~ors about twenty miles to the east- ward of the Cape; the westernmost had a breakwater half a mile in length, twenty feet high, facing the north, with entrances on its east and west sides sixty yards in breadth; the other was circular, about three quarters of a mile in diameter, with its entrance on the west side. Our critical position would not admit of any detention, otherwise they would have been sounded, being very anxious to find a secure retreat in the event of having to winter on this coast. The weather had been fine, with a S. E. wind, which veered to the XV. S. W., bringing fog and rain, so that on the morning of the 20th our further pm~ gress was impeded by finding the ice resting upon a point, which formed a slight indenta- tion of the shore, and was the only place where water could be seen. To prevent being car- ried away with the pack, which was filling up its space, we secured to the inshore side of a small but heavy piece of ice, grounded 7, in twelve fathoms, seventy-four yards from the beach, the only protection against the tremendous Polar ice (settin~ a knot to the eastward before a fresh westerly wind), whlch at 9 s. x. placed us in a very critical position, by a large floe striking the piece we werefast to, and causing it to oscillate so consider- ably that a tongue which happened to be under our bottom lifted the vessel six feet; but, by great attention to the anchors and warps, we succeeded in holding on during the conflict, which was continued several minutes, terminating by the floe being rent in pieces and our being driven nearer the beach. From this until the 29th we lay per- fectly secure, but at 8 A. M. of that day, the ice began suddenly to move, when a large floe, that must have caught the piece to which we were attached under one of its overhanging ledges, raised it perpendicular thirty feet, presenting to all on board a frightful aspect. As it ascended above the foreyard much apprehension was felt that it might be thrown completely over, when the ship must have been crushed beneath it. This suspense was but for a few minutes, as :the floe rent, carrying away with it a large piece from the foundation of our asylum, when it gave several fearful rolls and re- sumed its former position; but, no longer capable of resisting the pressure, it was hurried onward with the drifting mass. Our proximity to the shore compelled, as our only hope ~f safety, the absolute necessity of holding to it; we consequently, secured with a chain stream and hemp cable three six and two five-inch hawsers, three of which were passed round it. In this state we were forced along, sinking large ,pieces beneath the bottom, and sustaining a heavy strain against the stern and rudder; the latter was much damaged, but to unship it at present was impossible. At 1 r. M. the pressure eased, from the ice becoming stationary, when it was unhung and laid upon a large floe piece, where by 8 P. M., owing to the activity of Mr. Ford the carpenter, who is always ready to meet any emergency, it was repaired, just as the ice began again to be in motion; but as the tackles were hooked it was run up to the davits without furthe? damage. We were now setting fast upon another large piece of a broken floe, grounded in nine fathoms upon the debris formed at the mouth of a large river. Feeling certain that should we be caught between this and what we were fast to, the ship must inevi- tably go to pieces, and yet being aware that to cast off would certainly send us on the beach (from which we were never distant eighty yards), upon which the smaller ie~ was hurled as it came in contact with thes~ DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. grounded masses, I sent John Kerr (gunners mate), under very difficult circumstances, to endeavor to reach it and effect its destruc- tion by blasting; he could not, however, find a sufficient space of water to sink the charge, but remarking a large cavity upon the sea face of the floe, he fixed it there, which so far succeeded that it slightly frac- tured it in there, which at the moment was scarcely observable from the heavy pressure it was sustaining. By this time the vessel was within a few feet of it, and every one was on deck in anxious suspense, awaiting what was apparently the crisis of our fate; most fortunately the sterupost took itso fairly that the pressure was fore and aft, bringing the whole ship to bear. A heavy grind which shook every mast, and caused beam and decks to complain as she trembled to the violence of the shock, plainly indicated that the strug- gle would be of but short duration. At this moment the stream cable was carried away, and several anchors drew; thinking that we had now sufficiently risked the vessel, orders were given to let go all the warps, and with that order I had made up my mind that in a few minutes she would be on the beach, but, as it was sloping, conceived she might still prove an asylum for the winter, and possibly be again got afloat, while should she beerushed between these large grounded pieces, she must inevitably go down in ten fathoms, which would be certain destruction to all; but before the orders could be obeyed, a merciful Providence interposed, causing the ice, which had been previously weakened, to separate into three pieces, and it floated onward with the mass, our stern still tightly jammed against, but now protected by it. The vessel, which had been thrown over fif- teen degrees, and risen bodily one foot eight inches, now righted and settled in the water; the only damage sustained was several sheets of copper ripped off and rolled up like a sheet of paper, but not a fastening had given way, nor does any leakage indicate the slight- est defect. By midnight the ice was station- ary and everything quiet. On the 10th of September, the ice separat- ing, the vessel was driven into the main pack; again she broke loose, till after a series of marvellous escapes on the 29th of September, finding a well sheltered spot, they ran the vessel in and cast anchor, giving to this har- bor of refuge the descriptive name of Mercy Bay. Newly escaped from imminent danger, Mercy Bay was a welcome resting-place; but the reality of their condition soon forced itself upon them. They had attained, by the en- durance and efforts of a year, a position shn- ply rather north of the one occupied the pre- ceding winter. They had been almost two years from England, provisioned for little more than three years; whilst nearly another year must elapse before they could by any pos~ibility escape from their ice-bound prison; and the experience of the last season had taught them that that escape was incompara- bly more unlikely than they had believed it the summer before. All that might be brought in by the hunting parties could scarcely compensate for the eleven barrels of beef lost on the coast of America, when on one occasion, the ship having grounded, they were, to lighten her, placed in a boat, which most unfortunately upset. A la~ge dep6t of provisions had also been placed on Prince of Wales Island, to meet the possibility of their having to abandon the ship, and take the direction of the Mackenzie River. Under these circumstances Captain M~Clure decided to put the whole ships company upon two- thirds of the then navy allowance, since that period considerably increased. The officers private mess stores were exhausted. But when men are to be always hungry, when every morsel is measured, and the offal of slaughtered game becomes a precious perqui- site of the hunter, it is better that all should fare alike. The daily dieting was 11 oz. of bread, 1-2 lb. preserved meat, 2 oz. vegetables, a modicum of cocoa or tea, and 1-2 a gill of rum on alternate days. After eating as little as the cravings of hunger would allow at breakfast, the remaining portion of each indi- vidual was put away for his dinner. Dinner over, nothing remained till the following morning, but in the course of the afternoon a minute quantity of tea or cocoa boiled in water, and taken, not to satisfy hunger, but to relieve the gnawing of emptiness. All large game, the hunters perquisite excepted, was equally divided, and served out by weight, instead of ships provisions. They had not yet learned that to suck the blood of the fresh slaughtered deer was a welcome luxury: that was yet to come. Nor was want of food their only deprivation. The same rigid economy had to be exercised in the article of light. For very short intervals only could they in~. dulge in the luxury of seeing, or wiling away those dreary days by the help of reading, the pencil, or the pen On the anniversary of the discovery of the North-west Passage, an S DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. abundant repast was spread for all; and again on Christmas Day, after enjoying a plentiful dinner, they toasted the friends left behind. As spring advanced there was but small inducement for travelling parties; they could only go again over the ground surveyed the year before. They had no strength no~ to throw away, and the full allowance of food necessary to support the exertion of travelling had become a serious consideration. Hunting was a constant resource equally beneficial for health and spirits; it led to many adventures; but we must leave them to that fuller and more detailed account of Captain MClures voyage, which the public are encouraged to expect from the able pen of Captain Sherard Osbora, merely glancing at a veteran sergeant of marines attacked by musk bulls, who, after firing away all his ammunition, and even the worms of his gun, despatched his last ad- versary, by firing the ramrod through his heart. One officer was tracked and nearly surrounded by wolves; and another, having lost his way in an impenetrable fog, found his way back to the ship by no other token than the direction of the wind blowing on his cheek. One journey was undertaken, and that of such importance that Captain MClure him- self commanded the party, to Winter Har- bor, Melville Island, where Captain Parry had wintered in 181920, for here he hoped to meet with information, if not with assist- ance, from England. In his original instruc- tions he was commanded to endeavor to reach Melville Island. At the Sandwich Islands in July 1850, he heard of Captain Austins expe- dition, and he had himself distinctly stated in his letter to the Admiralty, committed to the charge of Captain Kellett, that he should try to reach that point. This letter he calcu- lated would be received in England early in 1852. Captain MClure began his journey April 11th, and returned on the 9th of May. He found a record that Winter Harbor had been visited by Lieutenant MClintock the pre- ceding year, then serving with Captain Aus- tin, but no word of hope as to the future, no intimation of stores being left, or assistance intended. With these bitter tidings he re- turned to the ship. Their countrymen had been comparatively within hail: they were gone, and the solitude on board that lonely ve~sel seemed deeper than before But at home they were not forgotten. The Erebus and Terror~ had sailed from England in May 1845: it was only the most sanguine who dared indulge the hope that Sir John Franklin and his brave companions could have survived the horrors of seven Arc- tic winters. Many expeditions had gone forth in search of them, and all had returned in safety, although with no intelligence beyond that of the graves and remains found on Cape Riley, seen and described by the officers and men of Captain Austins squadron, and by Captain Penny and his followers. The En- terprise, Captain Collinson, had been heard of as late as the summer of 1851, to the north of Behrings Straits. Baffled in his attempt to penetrate to the east or north-east in 1850 (having arrived there a fortnight after the Investigator), Captain Collinson passed the winter at Hong Kong, whence he had returned to the ice, with provisions for three years. Of the Investigator, no tidings had reached England since she exchanged numbers with the Plover, August 5th, 1850. Should she not return to England that autumn, or find means of obtaining fresh supplies, her condition would become terrible to contemplate before the summer of 1554 could set her free. The Duke of Northum- berland, then at the head of the Admiralty, gave the subject his earnest attention. The Arctic Committee was called together, to de- liberate on the best measures to be taken to rescue the gallant adventurers who seemed cut off from all human succor. Asmay be seen by the Blue Book of 1851, the recom- mendation of the Committee was, that four vessels should be prepared to advance to the northward by Wellington Channel, leaving a fifth as store ship or dep6t at Beechy Island. This advice was grounded on the inference that the remains at Cape Riley indicated Sir John Franklin having taken that direetion. The Committee also urged the continuance of store ships at Behrings Straits7, to assist the crews of the Erebus or Terror; the Enterprise or Investigator; as, should any of those ships return at all, they confi- dently anticipated it would be in that direc- tion, having come to the decision that a pas- sage for anything larger than boats along the northern shores of America was simply impos- sible. But there were persons who entirely differed as to the inferences to be deduced from these premises. The First Lord was 9 10 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. again consulted, and carefully reconsidered provisions. Should neither Melville Island the subject. An Arctic meeting was once nor Beechy Island afford them the assistance more summoned, and the conc4usion arrived they required, their instructions were to push at, that, whilst Sir Edward Beicher in the on, if possihle, to Ponds Bay, in the hope Assistance, and Commander Sherard Os- of falling in with whalers to convey tidings to born in the Pioneer tender, were to go England of the Investigator, and to ask to the northward, Captain Kellett in the for a ship with supplies to meet Captain Resolute, and Commander MClintock in MClure and the men with him at Port Leo- the Intrepid, should he directed to make pol~ in 1854. This was a service of no corn- the best of their way to Melville Island, leav- mon danger: but it sunk into insignificance ing the North Star, Captain Pullen, as a compared with the desperate task allotted to depot ship, at Beechy Island. Sir Edward the second lieutenant, Mr. Gurney Cresswell, Beleher and his five well-appointed vessels with Mr. Miertsching, the interpreter, and left the Thames in April 1852. No informa- six of the crew. This was to reach the tion, direct or indirect, of any of the missing mouth of the M ekeazie River, taking advan- ships reached England during that year. tage on their way of the stores left at Prince On board the Investigator, the season of Wales Island, and thence to strike for the of 1852 dragged heavily along: not even the nearest of the Hudsons Bay settlements, a indomitable courage of their captain or the distance of from 600 to 700 miles, depending noble spirit of officers and men could en- solely on their guns for subsistence. Their tirely resist the infiuen~ce of a singularly cold probable fate is told in the mournful tidings foggy summer. Young ice began to form in and relics of Sir John Franklin and his party July, and was eight inches thick, when on brought home by Dr. Rae. Lieutenant Cress- the 17th of September, a fresh gale from the well was to bear with him the same request S. S. E. might have set the vessel free. as Lieutenant IIaswell for help to meet them When all hope of emancipation for that sea- next year at Port Leopold. These arrange- son was over, and with it the certainty that ments met with the entire concurrence of all Dine or ten months longer must elapse before concerned ; and with the quiet resolution of the ship could escape from her present posi- Englishmen they prepared for a last strugglu tion, the future claimed from Captain MClure for life and deliverance. his most anxious consideration. There was The second anniversary of the North-west before them but a choice of dangers. To re- Passage was kept as before, and Christmas main as they were was death. At their pres- was welcomed with good cheer and a sort of ent rate of allowance, their supplies could grim festivity. Captain MClures despatches hold out little more than a year; but were continued to be written in the same cheerful, it even possible to have made them last long- hopeful spirit; but facts are stubborn things, er, it was becoming evident that none would and as the winter advanced he tells of sick- survive the continuous effects of unsatisfied ness, and alludes to hardships patiently en-. hunger. In a more genial climate, life might dured, but not the less felt. One of the mates, probably have been maintained upon it, but Mr. Sainsbury, was gradually sinking in a the human frame requires a far larger sup- decline; the health of the other, Mr. Wyn- ply, and more nutritious food, when exposed niatt, was completely shattered by continued to severe cold, than in warmer regions. privation and tension of the nervous system. Captain MClure decided upon dividing the The report of the medical officers of the ship ships company in the following spring, proves that at this time many men on board Those axaong~ the crew whase health was the were more or less affected by scurvy or other strongest, and most likely to eodure still fur- diseases. An officer or sailor might be heard ther hardships, were to remain with him by exhorting his comrade to put on a more the ship; the others were to leave him. One cheerful countenance, or not to speak in so party of from twenty to thirty was to accom- dismal a tone, unconscious that the atten- pany the first lieutenant, Mr. Haswell, with nated features of his friend refiec~ed his own, sledges and as much food as they could carry and that his voice was but the echo of the (a relief party being sent forward to assist sepulchral tones of another. them), to Cape Spencer, Ileechy Island, On the 15th of March the officers and men where they depended on finding supplies of about to leave the ship were put on full al DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. lowance to recruit their strength for travel- ling. How necessary this was, may be gathered from one illustration. An officer, small in stature and of slight frame, gained thirty pounds in weight in three months from that time. The 13th of April was the day named for the dispersion of the crew; prep- arations were going on, but the general state of mind was one more of apathy than excite- ment. It was two oclock in the afternoon of the 6th of April; Captain MClure and Mr. Haswell were walking on the floe; few peo- ple were on the deck, the greater part below, many in their berths. Captain MClure and Mr. Haswell observed a man running towards them; they fancied it one of their own peo- ple pursued by a bear, and hastened to his help. As they came nearer, they perceived it was a stranger. As soon as his voice could be heard, he panted out, Lieutenant Pim Resolute! Captain Kellett! The cry was raised on board; the only open ~aatchway was choked with people tumbling up from below; an hurrah was attempted, but it was beyond that. In an hour or two, men might be seen standing or sitting in twos or threes, talking very quietly, almost sol- emnly. They were saved, they belonge.d once more to a living world, but time was needed to convince, them of their deliverance. From Lieutenant Pim, they learned that in September 1852, Captain Kellett had placed a depOt of stores in Winter Harbor, Melville Island; but, not opening the cairn in which Captain MClures record was deposited, he had not discovered that document, left there in the preceding April. It was first found in October 1853, when a party from the Res- olute again visited Winter harbor, with ~further su~l~ of ~rovisions. As soon as travelling was possible, Lieutenant Bedford Pim was, despatched, by Captain Kellett, to Mercy Bay, to ascertain if the Investiga- tor~ was still there, a most 4oilsome and difficult journey. On the 7th of April, the day after Lieutenant Pims arrival, MClure set out with him for Dealy Island, Melville Island, where the Resolute then lay. Cap- tain Kellett must describe his arrival there: At nine oclock this day our look-out man made the signal for a party coming in from the westward; all ~vent oat to meet them, and assist them in. A second party was then seen. Dr. Domville was the first person I met. I cannot describe my feelings when he told me that Captain MClure was among the next p arty. I was not long in reaching him and giving him many hearty shakes; no purer. were ever given by two men in this world. MClure looks well, but is very hungry. His de~cription of Pims making the Harbor of Mercy, would have been a fine sub~ject for the pen of Captain Marryat, were he alive. That the sick men might, as soon as pos- sible, obtain more and better food, besides the immense importance of change of scene and companionship, Captain MClure ar- ranged, on leaving the ship, that on the 15th Lieutenant Gurney Cresswell should follow him, with Mr. Wynniatt, mate, Mr. Piers, assistant-surgeon, Mr. Miertsching, interpre- ter, and twenty-four petty officers and sea- men, from the most sickly part of the crew. In that short interval two deaths occurred, making three (the three first during their protracted voyage) within, a very few days. On the ~nd of May Captain Kellett speaks of their arrival, bringing two men on their sledge, and of their having made an ex- traordinary passage, for men in their state. He adds, the greater part of them are affected with scurvy, but all rapidly improv- ing.. Everything that kindness or tender- ness could s~iggest, was done for them on board the Resolute and Intrepid. An officer of one of those ships described their appearance as distressing, not so much from their extreme thinness and the effects of bodily illness, as from the gaze of vacuity with which they wandered round the ship, looking as though they looked not and scarcely noticing anything. Captains Kellett and MClure, desiring to forward information to England, and to en- sure its reachin~, Beech~r Island whilst the sledging season lasted, directed Lieutenant Cresswell to proceed thither, and to deliver Commander MClures despatqbes to the com- manding officer of the North Star, who would cause copies to be made of them, for the information of Sir Edward Beleber, and return the original, sealed, to Lieutenant Cresswell, for conveyance to England. Mr. Roche, mate of the Resolute, had charge of the party; Lieutenant Wynniatt .necQm- panied Lieutenant Cresswell, as his state of health demanded an immediate return hopi~. ~one olT the others were suW~cXentXy raco~ereA to pur,sue their journey further, though Lieu- 11 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. tenant Cresswell found it easy, even pleasura- ole, compared with the service he had just per- formed, of bringing so sickly and infirm a com- pany from Mercy Bay to the Resolute. He arrived atBeechy Island on the 2nd of June. Commander Pullen received him with the warmest welcome; the tidings were forward- ed to Sir Edward Belcher, in Wellington Chan- nel, and then came the question, how Lieuten- ant Cresswell could complete his mission, in the event of no ship arriving from England. With some difficulty, he obtained from Com- mander Pullen permission to repair the eight ton Mary yacht, belonging formerly to Sir John Ross, and purchased of him by Gov- ernment, which was lying there, to cover in her deck, leaving room only for the steersman, and make her ready for the possibility of a voyage to England. Four men volunteered to accompany him, for more than four the little vessel could not carry provisions. He wrung from Captain Pullen an unwilling con- sent, that, should no vessel arrive before the 20th of August, he might then take his de- parture. The venture was not needed, for on the 8th, Commander Inglefield in th~ Pheenix, with the store ship Breadal- bane, appeared off Beechy Island. On board the Pheenix was the much- lamented Lieutenant Bellot of the French navy. Very characteristic was his greeting to Lieutenant Cresswell: To have accom- plished that which you have done, I would gladly die. On the night of the 20th of August, a rapid run of the outer floe from the west- ward, placed both the Pheenix and the Breadalbane in imminent danger: the former, after a fearful nip, rose from it; not so the Breadalbane, which yielded to the pressure and gradually settled down beneath the ice, scarcely affording those on board time to escape. Fortunately her stores had been taken out before the catastrophe occurred. When the Pheenix arrived, Commander Pullen was gone to communicate with Sir Edward Beleher, and as by the time he re- turned further delay would have risked the loss of that season, Captain Inglefield pre- pared for his voyage home. Lieutenant Gurney Cresswell accompanied him, bearing the despatches of Captain MClur& to the Admiralty. They landed at Thurso in the extreme north of Scotland, and thence by coach and rail pursued their rapid journey to London, carefully preserving their secret, till at five A. 11. on the morning of the 7th of October, they awakened Mr. Barrow to tell him that his fathers long-cherished hope had been fulfilled and the North-west Passage ac- complished. But whilst the intelligence of Captain MClures success and safety was received with enthusiasm in England, he himself was entering his fifth year in the ice. Within a day or two after despatching Lieutenant Cress- well to Beechy Island, Captain MClure re- turned to the Investigator : the surgeon of the Resolute accompanied him, to ex- amine into the health of the remaining offi- cers and men. It had been arranged between Captain Kellett and Commander MClure, that unless twenty able-bodied seamen volun- teered to remain with him he could not con- tinue in his ship. But the crew of the In- vestigator had endured too much, to encoun- ter of their own free will another winter; only four men volunteered to stay; and Com- mander MClure and his men, leaving their possessions and associations behind them, looked their last look at the good ship which had borne them through so many dangers, and prepared to accept the kindly welcome which awaited them in Captain Kelletts vessels. It is said that after years of captivity, and whilst rejoicing in deliverance, the prisoner sighs as he leaves his dungeon; can we be surprised that it was not without emotion that these brave men, after all they had suf- fered and effected, quitted the scene of so much endurance ~ The next spring a travelling party coming in sight of the Investigator, saw the ensign still flying at the peak, but there was water in the hold and she was set- tling slowly down into her icy sepulchre. When the open season approached, every exertion was made by Captain Kellett and Commander MClintock to carry the Reso~. lute and Intrepid to Beechy Island, but in vain. After drifting in the pack for two months they were frozen in hard and fast. In accordance with orders from Sir Edward Belcher, the ships were abandoned by their officers and crew May 15th 1854, ~nd with Commander MClure and the crew of the Investigator they pursued their way to Beechy Island. On the 24th of August, Sir Edwar4 Beleher finally left the Assistance and the Pioneer firmly frozen in Wel- lington Channel, and in his gig with the 12 DISCOVERY OF THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE. other ships boats arrived the following day at Beechy Island. The season of 1854 having so far advanced without any vessel making its appearance from England, the officers and crew of the five different ships remaining in the ice, amounting, with the officers and crew of the North Star, to 263 persons, prepared to return in that vessel to England. The North Star, after the labor for two months of the crews of the two ships, had been cut out of the ice, and reached the edge of the floe; by the 21st of August all was ready for depart- ure, and the North Star under weigh, when on the 26th, the Phoenix, Captain Inglefield, with the tender Talbot, was seen in the offing, and by her opportune arrival gave space and comfort for the voyage home. A telegraph despatch from Cork, received at the Admiralty September 29th, announced the arrival of the Phoenix with Captain MClure and other officers on board, and that the Talbot and North Star were fol- lowing with the remaining officers and men. Captain MClure was received at the Admi- ralty with the consideration his services de- served. his post rank, accorded him the year before, was antedated to the earliest possible period after his discovery of the North-west Passage. Promotion was freely dealt out amongst the other officers. The gold mec1~ls of the Geographical Societies both of England and France have been since presented to Captain MClure. Parliament has voted 10,000 to him and his ships company, as the first to accomplish the North-west pas- sage; 5000 for Captain MClure himself, and the remainder to be divided between his officers and men. A recommendation has also been received from the Committee of the House of Commons appointed to consider these claims, that medals should be given to all the officers and men who have been en- gaged in these perilous services; and we trust that Sir Robert MClure, as we must now call him, will long continue to render that name an honor to the British navy in services of a more practical character than those he has performed in the bleak field of Arctic discovery. It would, however, be wrong to underrate the value of these expedi- tions in keeping alive during peace the hero- ism and enterprise of the British navy. Sev- eral of those who took part in these voyages have already earned fresh distin~tion in the Baltic and Black Sea squadrons, among whom we particularly notice Capt. Sherard Osborn, whose brilliant services in the Sea of Azoff have done incalculable damage to the enemy. The navy may be proud of its achievements in the polar regions, but the nation will rejoice that it has seen what Sir Edward Beleher terms the last of the Arctic voyages.~~ It fortunately does not fall within the scope of these remarks to enter upon any minute examination of Sir Edward Belchers literary or nautical pretensions: he relieves us from that duty by the admission that he does not assert in these volumes any claim to the participation in the solution of the Northern Passage to the Pacific, though the continuous frozen sea traced by the officers under Sir E. Belohers command, proves the existence of a water communication through Wellington Channel round Parry Islands to the position obtained by Captain MClure. But we must express our regret that these volumes, bearing the pompous title of the Last of the Arctic Voyages, and published under the authority of the Lords Commission- ers of the Admiralty with unusual typograph- ical magnificence, should have so little claim on the public attention. They are written in a style which is at once vulgar, querulous, and incorrect; they add nothing to the an- nals of Arctic discovery; and they establish nothing beyond the utter unfitness of their author for the task he undertook. Even in his instructions to the officers sent on sledge- parties, which ought to have been drawn up with the greatest precision, as the lives of human beings depended on them, we find Sir E. Beloher addressing this strange exhorta- tion to Commander Richards: It is needless for me to exhort you or Licut. Osborn to do anything but return securely, and without allowing your own high feeling to be the standard by which those who labor under you are to be urged forward. (Vol. is. p. 43.) Happily these gallant officers did return securely, and consequently did not obey the injunction of their sapient commander. His language in every page of this narrative is equally absurd and unintelligible; and it is unfortunate that whilst no full or authentic account has yet been published of Sir Robert MClures remarkable voyage, Sir Edward Belcher should have been allowed to obtrude on the public this clumsy narrative of his own proceedings. 13 ThREE WIYE~. ~rom Rouseho~d Words. THREE WIVES. I HAVE besides my town residence in Cecil Street which is confined to a suite of two apartments on the second floor a very pleas- ant country-hGuse belonging to a friend of mine in Devonshire; this latter is my favorite seat, and the abode which I prefer to call my home. I like it well when its encircling glens are loud with rooks, and their great nests are being set up high in the rocking branches; I like it when the butterflies, those courtly ushers of the summer, are doing their noiseless mission in its southern garden, or on the shaven lawn before its front; I like it when its balustraded roof looks down upon a sea of golden corn and islands of green or- chards flushed with fruit; but most it pleases me when logs are roaring in its mighty chim- neys, and Christmas time is come. Six abreast the witches might ride up them, let their broomsticks prance and curvet as they would. If you entered the ball by the great doors while Robert Chetwood and myself were at our game of billiards at its further end, you could not recognize our features. The galleries are studies of perspective, ajid the bare, shining staircases as broad as car- riage-ways. The library, set round from the thick carpet to the sculptured ceiling with ancient books, with brazen clasps, and old- world types, and worm-drilled bindings. The chapel, with its blazoned saints on the dim windows, and the mighty corridors with floors of oak and sides of tapestry, are pictures of the past, and teach whole chapters of the book of history: Red Rose and White Rose, Cavalier and Roundhead, Papist and Protes- tant, Orangeman and Jacobite have each had their day in Old Tremadyn House. - When the great doors slam together, as they some- times will, to the inexpressible terror of the London butles~, they awake a series of thun- derclaps which roll from basement to garret; many a warning have they given, in the good old times, to Tremadyns hiding for their lives, and many an arras has been raised and mir- ror slipped to right or left at that menacing sound. To this day, Robert Chetwood often comes anew upon some hold in which those who ruled before him have skulked some- times in his own reception-rooms, but more commonly in the great chambers where he puts his guests. These chambers are colossal, with huge carved pillars bearing up a firma.. merit of needlework, and dressing-closets large enough for dining-rooms. Every person of note who could or could not by possibility of~ date or circumstance have slept therein have had the credit of passing a night within Tre- madyn House, from the Wandering Jew, Shakspeare, Queen Elizabeth, down to Charles the First, Peter the Great, and the late Em- peror Nicholas. There has been more than one murder in the Red room, several suicides in the Blue, and one ghost still haunts those spots in expiation. Tremadyns in lace cuffs and wigs; in scarlet and ermine; in armor from top to toe, line both the galleries sold by the last Charles Surface of a dissolute race for ten pounds ten shillings a head. One great Tremadyn dynasty has passed away; Robert Chetwood, late banker in the City of London, not so long ago bankers clerk, now reigneth in their stead. The Tremadyns came in at the time of the siege of Jericho, or thereabouts, and the Chetwoods about ten years before th~ siege of Sebastopol; but there the~advantage ceases. There is no man kinder to the poor, no man more courteoi~s to nil ~ no man, whatever his quarterings, in all Devonshire, vrit~h a better he~rt than Robert Chetwood. Tremadyn iH~use is open to the county, as it ever was, and his old London friends are not forgotten; a hale and hearty gentleman indeed he is, but he has had many troubles; he is as happy as any man bereaved of children can be, and it was the loss of them that made him buy the house and give up his old haunts and busy way He saw the nursery windows wide open to the air, But the faces of the children they were no longer there; and that, wherever it may be, is too sad a sight to look upon. But what a wife the old man had, to make up, as it seemed even to me, for all! I say to me, for one of those lost children, a maiden of seventeen, was my betrothed bride the gentlest and most gracious creature eyes ever looked upon; I think if I could write my thoughts of her, I should move those to tears who never saw her face, when~ they read Gertrude died. She gave herself to me: the old man never could have given her. I say no more. This is why Tremadyn House has become to me a home. It pleases Robert Chetwood to have his friends son with him, above all, because he was his daughters plighted hus 14 THREE WIVES. band, and my fathers frieiA is trebly dear to me as Gertrudes father. When the Christ- mas party has dispersed, and the great house is quite emptied of its score of guests, I still remain with the old couple over the new year. They call me son, as though I were their son, and I call them my parents. If Heaven had willed it so, dear Gertrude and myself could not have hoped for greater wed- ded happiness, more love between us, than is l)etween those two. ~Perhaps, he says, with a smile I never saw a young man wear, perhaps it is that my old eyes are getting dim and untrustworthy, but Charlotte seems to me the dearest and most pleasant-looking dame in all the world. And his wife makes answer that her sight also is just as little to be depended on. To each of them has come the silver hair, and the reverence with it that alone makes it beautiful; and if their steps are slower than in youth, it is not because their hearts are heavier ; they are indeed of those, so rare ones, who make us in love with life down even to its close. They always seemed to me as having climbed the hill to- gether their whole lives long, and never was I more astonished than upon this new years eve, when, Mrs Chetwood being with us two in after-dinner talk, as custom was when all her guests were gone, her husband told this history. He had always talked quite openly to me, A pair of friends, though I was young, And Robert, seventy-two; and then, at the end of another year of love and conf~1ence, I could not resist inquiring of them how long they two had been one. Well, on my word, George, said the dear old lady, you should be more discreet than to ask such questions. But her husband answered readily: This thirty years. I ye been a married man myself this half-a-century. Why, you dont mean to say said I. Yes, I do, he interrupted. Of course I do. Charlotte has been my wife too long, I hope, to be jealous now of either Kate or Mary; but I loved them each in turn almost as dearly as I love her. Charlotte, he added, turning towards her as she sat in the great arm-chair, you dont mind George being told about my other two wives, do you ~ I dont mind your talking of Mary 16 much, she answered, but get over that young Kates story as quickly as you can, please. And I really thought I detected a blush come over her dear old face while she was speaking. It is rather less than half a century ago, he began, since I first set foot in this beau- tiful Devon county. I came down on a short holiday from London, in the summer time, to fish, and I brought with me, besides my rod and basket, a portmanteau full of clothes and about twenty-five pounds in gold, which was the whole amount of my savings. I was junior clerk in a house at that day, with one hundred and twenty pounds a-year, and with as much chance of becoming a partner as you, my dear briefiess Charles, have of sitting on the woolsack. From the top of Tre- inadyn House I could point you out the farm- house where I lodged, and will some day take you to see it, a mighty homestead, with a huge portico of stone and flights of stone steps leading to the upper chambers from without. On one side was the farmyard, filled with swine and poultry, with open stalls for cattle, and enormous barns, not so well kept or neat, perhaps, as the present day requires, but a perfect picture of plenty; on the other stood the cider-presses, and beyond, the apple orchards, white with pi~omise, red with fruit, made the air faint with fragrance; half orchard was the garden, too, in fruit, through which, beneath a rustic bridge, my trout stream wandered. Charlotto you know the place have I not painted it! You have, Robert, she sgid. The tears were in her eyes, ready to f4l, I saw. There, then, I met, Katie. The good man of the house wasAhildless, and she, his cousin, was well ca~ud for as his child. It was no wonder, George: the dark oak parlor seemed to need,~io light when she shone in it. Like a ,s~inbeam gilding over common places, wh~ever household matters busied her she gra& t Some sweet art seemed to lie in her, s,i~perior to mere neatness, as high-heart- edrwss excelleth pride. I put on salmon flies t& catch trout. I often fished without any hook at all. I strove to image her fair face and form in the clear waters, by the side of that hapless similitude of myself the reflex of a forlorn, youth in his first love. I did my best at hay-making to please her. I took eternal lessons in the art of making Devon 16 THREE WIVES. cheese. I got at last ~o far as to kiss her so without ingratitude for my present great hand. I drew a little, and she sat to me for happiness, and with the leave of my dear her portrait. We sallied out a mushroom- Charlotte, that the happiest hours of my life ing and getting wild flowers, and on our way were spent during those days, when our sang pleasant songs together, and inter- two childrens voices rang cheerily over the changed our little stores of reading. On the house, and some little scheme of pleasure for eve before my long put-off departure we wer9 them was my every-day desire and Marys. thus roaming: we had to cross a hundred Even at the terrible time when boy and girl stiles the choicest blessings of the country were being taken from us at once, never did I used to think them and once, instead of their patient mother seem more dear to ilie; offering my hand to help her over, I held out from when the hush of sickness stole upon us both my arms, and, upon my life, George, at first, to the day when that white proces- the dear girl jumped right into them; and sion left our doors, what a healing spirit was that was how I got to kiss her cheek. she! When we thought that the thickly What shocking stories you are telling, folded veil of sorrow had fallen over us for- Robert, said Mrs. Chetwood, and certainly ever, how tenderly she put it aside! she was then blushing up under her lace cap It must needs have happened that my to her white hair. spe~ch has here been melancholy, but indeed Well, my dear, nobody was there except I should not speak of Mary so. She was the Kate and myself, and I think I must know blithest, cheerfulest, most comfortable mid- what happened, at least as well as you do: dle-aged wife that man ever had; behind our so, he continued, after one more visit to very darkest trouble a smile was always ly- the farm-house, Kate and I were married; ing ready to struggle through it, and what a she gave up all her healthy ways and country light it shed! One of yourresigned immove- pleasures to come and live with me in the able females, who accept every blessing as a us town; studious of others happiness, temptation, and submit with precisely the careful for others pain; at all times forget- same feelings to what they call every chasten- ful of herself: active and diligent, she had ing, would have killed me in a week. George, ever leisure for a pleasant word and a kind my Mary acted at all times according to her action; and for beauty, no maid n& r wife in nature, and that nature was as beautiful and the world was fit, I believe, to compare with blessed as ever fell to the lot of womankind. her; to you, George, who knew and loved You might well think that Kate and Mary our dearest Gertrude, I need not describe her were two prizes great enough for one man to mother. She was not long with me, but it draw out of the marriage lottery, and yet I soon seemed as if it must have cost my life drew another. When I lost my beloved to have parted with her; yet the girlish glory Mary, my third wife took her place in my faded and the sparkling spirit fled, and the inmo~t heart. day has been forgiven, though forgotten Kiss me, Charlotte, said the old man, never, which took my darling Katie from my tenderly, and again she kissed him on the side. eheek. And now, continued he, let us The old man paused a little here. Mrs. fill our glasses, for the New Year is coming Chetwood kissed him softly upon the cheek. on apace: and please to drink to the memory My secondwife, he resumed, was not of my two wives, and to the health of her so young, and certainly had not the outward who is still left to me. The two first toasts graces of my first. She was beautiful, too, must necessarily be somewhat painful to my in the flower as Kate was in the bud; her dear Charlotte, and we will therefore, re- face had not the vivacity, nor her eyes the ceive them in silence, but the third we must dancing light of Katies;but there sat such a drink with all the honors. serenity upon her features, as we sometimes So after those, he stood up, glass in han~d., see upon a lovely landscape ~when the sun is and said to her: near its setting; a look which no man ever Kate, Mary, Charlotte, bride, matron, tires of; and Mary bore me children, and and dame in one, to whom I have been wed- then, much as I had loved the sapling, it ded this half-century, for I have had no seemed to me that the full-fruited tiee was other wife, George, God bless you, dear dearer yet. She was no country girl from old heart! We have had a merry Christmas the Devon dales, but a town lady, bred. I as we have ever had, and I trust it may had a great house by that time, with all be permitted to us to have, still together, one things fitted about me, and my sphere was more happy New Year. Hip! hip! hip! hers. The pearls suited her pleasant brow, Hurrah! and the echoes of our three times and crowned her still raven tresses as becom- J three seemed cheerily to roam all night about ingly as the single rose in her hair had J Tremadyn House. adorned simple Kate. I think, if I may say 17 MISS MURRAYS LETTERS FROM AMERICA~. From The Athenreum. Letters from the United States, Cuba, and Canada. By the Hon. Amelia M. Murray. 2 vols. Parker & Son. Miss MURRAY went to the United States to study botany and social questions. She made a large collection of plants, rocks, fish, and fossils; and changed very materially the views which she carried to America on the peculiar institution. Prof. Owen, we un- derstand, finds much to interest the scientific mind in the first, niany very amiable and respectable, people find much that is shocking in the latter. The botanizing and philan- thropic Lady speaks out plainly on the Slave Question. That there may be no mistake in the matter, Miss Murray extracts some observations from a work, which my short experience of a slave country induces me unhesitatingly to adopt as my own. The observations are too long for our columns; but among them we find it asserted that slavery is the best system of labor for the ne- gl-o in America. The negros condition has been ameliorated under it; and it has se- cured him constant work, maintenance, and a home, food, clothing, protection, and a doctor. It has drawn master and man to- gether; improved sociality, prevented starv- ation, and diminished crime. Slaves have been asked by an archbishop if they preferred freedom in their own land to siavery in Amer- ica, and they have universally replied No! Moreover, the system is of divine institution for excellent purposes, and Abolitionists have been so wicked as to disregard the truth, and to deny this and other equally incontro- vertible veracities. Negroe8 die out in free-~ dom, and increase under slavery, there- fore it is that the blacks in America cannot be made free for their own sakes, even if it were desirable that they should be for their masters and all this Miss Murray unhesitatingly adopts as her own. Miss Murray, in one place, describes the blacks as tricky, idle, and dirty; in another she speaks of them as eagerly offer- ing their services to her, begging her never to mind trouble, as they do not mind work. Of the free blacks in Cuba, she says that she believes they are profligate and irreligious; and they look far less happy than their broth- ers in servitude. As to the dreadful effects of attempting to suppress the slave trade from pcxix. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiii. 2 Africa, we have the following story by way of illustration: One of our captains laving been capsized in his gig, within the bar of a river, hie only hope of safety was to swim to shore, nea.r a barracouta, where he expected to lose his life in another manner. The people be- longing to it, however, succored him, and received him with kindness; but, before re- turning to his ship, the slave-merchant re- quested his company to a distant building. Upon opening the door he was struck with horror at the sight of 500 blacks with their throats cut. Do not look reproachfully at me, exclaimed the man; this is your doing, not mine. I would willingly have avoided such a massacre, but you prevented me froux getting the slaves off. I could neither fc~ed nor provide for them; and self-preservation obliged us to dispose of them as you see.~ To show that Abolitionists are all in a mistake about slavery, Miss Murray tells us of slaves so conscientious as to order them- selves to be whipped, for offences committed. Others we meet with who obstinately refuse manumission. A free nigger is a low fellow; your real slave is your only true black gentle- man or lady. Overwork is never heard of, and as for jewelry, Lor, some of us have as much jewlry as Missus! Upon other important questions Miss Mixr- ray is equally decided. Havana, she says, is a tempting prize, and, the Spanish Gov- ernment affording a fair pretext, who can wonder that there are filibustering expedi- tions l Really, adds this Lady, I think Europe might be inclined to join with America in bringing the Spaniards to~ their senses! Miss Murray thinks the island might be bought, as Mr. Pitt bought the Isle of Man, of her family. The cases are not very similar. But let us quit these controversies for pleasanter matter. Here is a Water Quadrille, at Newport: We drove by Newport to the bathing sands, where gentlemen take charge of ladies in the surf: it was to me a very singular and amusing scene numerous carriages, drawn up before a semicircle of small bath- ing-houses, containing gaily dressed occu- pants, who had taken their marine walk, or were waiting for the ladies, young and old, still frolicking about among the waves, child.~ ren dancing in and out, gentlemen handing about their pretty partners as if they were dancing water quadrilles, and heads, young 18 MISS MURRAY S LETTERS FROM AMERICA. and old, with streaming hair dipping in and she declares they are not a hit worse than out: it was very droll, very lively, and ~ our gnats and midges. ~llere and there we dare say very amusing to all engaged. No have an odd assemblage of ideas. Thus, she accident has ever occurred here, for the bay tells us of a sermon on Christs obedience, is protected by capes on each side, and the water is shallow for some distance out. that the experiment of obedience, if fairly tried, will never fail to convince the sceptk~ This is not unlike the Malabar water-dan~ce, and strengthen the believer. Dinner was at where the white-sandalled maidens in the . three o clock. She is comforted touching flood - the cholera at Newport, as it is only carry- lean on their lovers all panting and warm ing off the profligate and debilitated; and With laughter, and splashing the waters about. she adds the assurance, that she should Among social traits, we may notice the particularly dread any epidemic falling upon pleasant fact recorded in the second volume, a people which, as a general rule, look so over- Miss Murray, when at Savannah, passed the worked, and fragile, and thin, as these Pulaski Hotel. It is so called, she says, northern Americans. At Ocala, a negro in memory of a fine steamer of that name, girl had brought in her hand an old iron pan which, before boilers were well regulated, blew with a hole in it and a spoutless teapot. She up and engulfed members of almost all the asked in which utensil the tea was to be made. principal families in this place. One family, I & iid we had better put the tea into the consisting of thirteen, lost eleven individuals; one that had no hole in the bottom, and eo only the father and one infant were left be- we made something like tea. Next morning hind. The Pulaski Hotel must hardly have I was surprised to find some bits of greensand been a pleasant place for this bereaved pair to rock, containing fossils. In such wise, have boarded at, but on some such customers throughout the work, Miss Murray puts that the, landlord probably depended for patronage. and that together. The authoress of this In conclusion, let us remark,, that Miss work thinks that her statements, made Murray attempts to deal with, too many with fidelity and accuracy, ought to be wel- questions at once, and she is not so successful come. How welcome they are likely to be as with a dish of chowder, a most praise- to some persons in the States may be guessed worthy preparation, enabling you to eat soup at from her remark, intended tobe apologetic, and fish at one time. It is difficult, too, to that should anything here written excite make out what she likes and what she dis- bitter feelings, or cause individual pain, the likes; and though she complains of mosquitoes, error must not be thought intentional. SATIRE ON JAMEs 11.I have lately met with the following bitter satire on James II. Can any readers throw light on its authorship, or say if it has been printed, and where it first appeared? When Israel first provokd the Living Lord, He scourged their sin with famine, plague, and sword. Still they rebelled; then God in wrath did fling No thunderbolt among them, but a king. A kinglike James was Heavens severest rod, The utmost vengeance of an angry God. God in his wrath sent Saul to punishJewry, But James to England inei greater fury; For Saul in sin was no more like our James Than little Jordan can compare to Thames. .JVbtes and Queries. DIcTIoNARIEs cRMNED in ScHooLs. In the recbrds of the corj~oration of Boston, under the date 1678,1 find the following entry. Agreed That a Dictionaryc shall be bought for the scollers of the Free Scoole; and the same boke to be tyed in a cheyne, and set upon a deske in the scoole, whereunto any scoller may have ac.. cesse, as occasion shall serve. PISHEY TRoMPso~ STOKE NEwINGTON. JVotes and Queriea. [Glad to see your good name again, old cor- respondent! Living .Ilge.J A NIGHTLY SCENE IN LONDON. Erom Household Words. A NIGHTLY SCENE IN LONDON. ON the 5th of last November, I, the Con- ductor of this journal, accompanied by a friend well known to the public, accidentally strayed into Whitechapel. It was a miser- able evening; very dark, very muddy, and raining hard. There are many woeful sights in that part of Londob, and it has been well known to me in most of its aspects for many years. We had forgotten the mud and rain in slowly walking along and looking about us, when we found ourselves, at eight oclock, before the Workhouse. Crouched against the wall of the Work- house, in the dark street, on the muddy pavement-stones, with the rain raining upon them, were five bundles of rags. They were motionless, and had no resemblance to the human form. Five great beehives covered with rags five dead bodies taken out of graves, tied, neck and heels, and covered with rags would have looked like those five bundles upon which the rain rained down in the public street. What is this? said my companion, . What is this? Some miserable people shut out of the Casual Ward, I think, said I. We had stopped before the five ragged mounds, and Were quite rooted to the spot by their horrible appearance. Five awful Sphinx- es by the wayside, crying to every passer- by, Stop and guess! What is to be the end, of a state of society that leaves us here! As we stood looking at them, a decent working-man, having the appearance of a stone-mason, touched me on the shoulder. This is an awful sight, sir, said he, in a Christian country! GOD knows it is, my friend, said I. I have often seen it much worse than this, as I have been going home from my work. I have counted fifteen, twenty, five-and-twenty, many a time. It s a shocking thing to see. A shocking thing, indeed, said I and my companion together. The man lingered near us a little while, wished us good-night, and went on. We should have felt it brutal in us, who had a better chance of being he~rd than the working-man, to leave the thing as it was, so we knocked at the Workhouse Gate. I un dertook to be spokesman. The moment the gate was opened by an old pauper, I went in, followed close by my companion. I lost no .time in passing the old porter, for I saw in his watery eye a disposition to shut us out. Be so good us to give that card to the master of the Workhouse, and say I shall be glad to speak to him for a moment. We were in a kind of covered gateway, and the old porter went across it with the card.. Before he had got to a door on our left, a man in a cloak and hat bounced out of it very sharply, as if he were in the nightly habit of being bullied and of returning the compliment. Now, gentlemen, said he in a loud voice, what do you want here? First, said I, will you do me the favor to look at that card in your hand. Perhaps you may know my name. Yes, says he, looking at it. I know this name.~~ Good. I only want to ask you a plain question in a civil manner, and there is not the least occasion for either of us to be angry. It would be very foolish in me to blame you, and I dont blame you. I may find fault with the system you administer, but pray un- derstand that I know you are here to do a duty pointed out to you, and that I have no doubt you do it. Now, I hope you wont object to tell me what I want to know. No, said he, quite mollified, and very reasonable, not at all. What is it? Do you know that there are five wretched creatures outside? I have nt seen them, but I dare say them are. Do you doubt that there are? No, not at all. There might be many more. Are they men? Or women? Women, I suppose. Very likely one or two of them were there last night, and the night before last. There all night, do you mean? Very likely. My companion and I looked at one another, and the master of the Workhouse added quickly, Why, Lord bless my soul, what am I to do? What can I do? The place is full. The place is always full every night. I ~ must give the preference to women with chil- dren, must nt I? You would nt have me not do that? 19 A NIGHTLY SCENE IN LONDON. Surely not, said I. It is a very hu- mane principle, and quite right; and I am glad to hear of it. Dont forget that I dont blame you. Well! said he. And subdued himself again. What I want to ask you, I went on, is whether you know anything against those five mis6rable beings outside! Dont know anything about them, said he with a wave of his arm. I ask, for this reason; that we mean to give them a trifle to get a lodgingif they are not shelterless because they are thieves for instance you dont know them to be thieves? I dont know anything about them, he repeated emphatically. That is to say, they are shut out, solely because the Ward is full? Because the Ward is full. And if they got in, they would only have a roof for the night and a bit of bread in the morning, I suppose? That s all. You 11 use your own dis- cretion about what you give them. Only understand that I dont know anything about them beyond what I have told you. Just so. I wanted to know no more. You have answered my question civilly and readily, and I am much obliged to you. I have nothing to say against you, but quite the contrary. Good night! Good night, gentlemen! And out we came again. We went to the ragged bundle nearest to the Workhouse-door, and I touched it. No movement replying, I gently shook it. The rags began to be slowly stirred within, and by little and little a head was unshrouded. The head of a young Woman of three or four and twenty, as I should judge; gaunt with want, and foul with dirt; but not naturally ugly. Tell us, said I, stooping down. Why are you lying here? Because I cant get into the Workhouse. She spoke in a faint dull way, and had no curiosity or interest left. She looked dreamily at the black sky and the falling rain, but never looked a~t me or my companion. Were you here last night! Yes. All last night. And the night afore too. Do yo~ know any of these others! I know her next but one. She was here last night, and she told me she come out of Essex. I dont know ne more of her. You were here all last night, but you have not been here all day! No. Not all day. Where have you been all day! About the streets. What have you had to eat! Nothing. Come! said I. Think a little. You are tired and have been asleep, and dont quite consider what you are saying to us. You have had something to eat to-day. Come! Think of it! No I have nt. Nothing but such bits as I could pick up about the market. Why, look at me! She bared her neck, and I covered it up again. ~If you had a shilling to get some supper and a lodging, should you know where to get it? Yes. I could do that. For Gois sake get it then! I put the money into her hand, and she feebly rose up and went away. She never thanked me, never looked at me melted away into the miserable night, in the strang- est manner I ever saw. I have seen many strange things, but not one that has left a deeper impression on my memory than the dull impassive way in which that worn-out heap of misery took that piece of money, and was lost. One by one I spoke to all the five. In every one, interest and curiosity were as ex- tinct as in the first. They were all dull and languid. No one made any sort of profession or complaint; no one cared to look at me; no one thanked me. When I came to the third, I suppose she saw that my companion and I glanced, with a new horror upon us, at the two last, who had dropped against each other in their sleep, and were lying like broken images. She said she believed they were young sisters. These were the only words that were originated among the fivd~ And now let me close this terrible account with a redeeming and beautiful trait of the poorest of the poor. When we came out of the Workhouje, we bad gone across the sOad to a public house, finding ourselves with~nt. silver, to get change for a sovereign. I held the money in my hand while I was speaking 20 21 A NIGHTLY SCENE IN LONDON. ~o the five apparitions. Our being so engaged attracted the attention of many people of the very poor sort usual to that place; as we leaned over the mounds of rags, they eagerly leaned over us to see and hear; what I had in my hand, and what I said, and what I did, must have been plain to nearly all the con- course. When the last of the five had got up and faded away, the spectators opened to let us pass; and not one of them, by word, or look, or gesture, begged of us. Many of the observant faces were quick enough to know that it would have been a relief to us to have got rid of the rest of the money with any hope of doing good with it. But there was a feeling among them all, that their necessities were not to be placed by the side of such a spectacle; and they opened a way for us in profound silence, and let us go. My companion wrote to me, next day, that the five ragged bundles had been upon his bed all night. I debated how to add our testimony to that of many other persons who from time to time are impelled to write to the newspapers, by having come upon some shameful and shocking sight of this description~ I resolved to write in these pages an exact ac- count of what we had seen, but to wait until after Christmas, in order that there might be no heat or haste. I know that the unreason- able disciples of a reasonable school, demented disciples who ~push arithmetic and political economy beyond all bounds of sense (not to speak of such a weakness as humanity), and hold them to be all-sufficient for every case, can easily prove that such things ought to be, and that no man has any business to mind them. Without disparaging those indispens- ~ble sciences in their sanity, I utterly renounce and abominate them in their insanity; and I address people with a respect for the spirit of the New Testament, who do mind such things, and who think them infamous in our streets RAILWAYS. The 300,000,000 embarked and one will, throughout nearly the whole civil- in railways is the largest aggregate property ized world. that ever was contributed to any one commer- There is no single change in the history of cial object. To this sum, however, must be mankind, whether it be moral or mechanical, added the 100,000,000 invested in the same which has at once attraCted to itself such a vast commercial object in France, the 150,000,000 amount of labor and capital as the stibstitution similarly invested in theUnited States, and the of the rail for other modes of conveyance, or large aggregate amount also similarly invested rather the addition it has made to our other in Belgium, Germany, Spain, Italy, & c., & c. means of communication. It is remarkable, too, According to Mr. Stephenson, the lines con- that this great work has been executed without ~tructed in our country exceed in length the ten any constraint, or any great derangement in any chief rivers in Europe; and if the Thames and other needful branch of industry. It was ac the Mersey be excluded, they undoubtedly carry cused of diverting capital and labor from other more goods and passengers than are carried on works, but by saving time and bringing remote all these rivers. In the United States there are, lands into cultivation, it has increased capital according to the latest return, now 28,342 miles with all the means of subsistence, and multL.. of rails, the increase in 1855 having been 8,408 plied employment wherever it has come into use. miles, the rails in the States surpassing our rails We believe that at this moment, by bringing the as much as the rivers of America surpass those produce of the interior to the seaboard of the of Europe. When to these we add the rails of United States, it is the means of saving a port France, Germany, Belgium, and the other parts of the population of Europe from starvation. of Europe, as well as those of India and Aus- The disorders attending it here, of which we now tralia, we have no doubt that railways consti- justly complain, are the results of moral causes, tute the greatest uniform work ever performed peculiar to our society; and the more generally in a few years by the hand of man. All the high beneficinl carrying into effect this greatmecham- roads in Europe made in ancient and rnoderxi ical invention is found to be, the more glaring times sink into insignificance, th~~igh tl~ey were become the faults of the legislators, railway di.. the work of many successive ~ compared to rectors, managers, and shareholders, whichhaye the great work in rails executed within 27 years. made it ruinous to individuals. Its in1luCn~e, 411 the great pyramids,~alI the vast monuments too, for good, by increasing the general wealth, and extensive walls of a~ntiquity, all the churches is even mitigating the consep~ences ~f their p~ and cathedrals of the middle ages, with which rors and all the errqrs of the original coD~V~If) all Europe was almost simultaneously dotted, tion; while it is obviously teaching us to regard were trivial works edmpared td the railways, as utterly insignificant most of the c~use~ Qf with their accompanying telegraphs and multi- progress about which mere party politieia~s~4d plied mechanical contrivances, that in a short heated sectarians waste their own and the n~- period have been constructed, as if by one mind tional energies~ .E2conomist. THE SHOW OFFICER. From Household Words. THE SHOW OFFICER. FROM THE ROVING ENGLISHMAN. WE go stumbling along the unpaved streets of Galatz by the dim light of a lantern carried before us by a servant. The town, although the chief commercial city of the Danubian Principalities, and numbering its inhabitants by tens~ of thousands, is of course unlighted. The outward civilization of these countries, showy as it appears, has unhappily gone no further, up to the present time, than jewellery and patent-leather boots. Light; air, and cleanliness are at least two generations ahead of it. Our hotel, the best in the town, is not better than a Spanish inn on the Moorish frontier. The doors do not shut, the windows do not open. There is a bed, but it is an enemy rather than a friend to repose. The bed-clothes are of a dark smoke-color, stained in many places with iron-moulds, and burned into little black holes by the ashes of defunct cigars. The bed, bedstead, and bed-clothes are alive with vermin. They crawl down the damp mouldy walls, and swarm on the filthy floor, untouched by the broom of a single house-maid since its planks were laid down. Battalions move in little dark specks over the pillow-case; they creep in and out of the rents and folds of the abominable blanket. On a crazy wooden chair of which one of the legs is broken stands a small red pipkin, with a glass of dingy water in the centre. A smoky rag, torn and un- hemmed, is laid awry beside it. They are designed for the purposes of ablution. The walls of the room are very thin; and there is a farewell supper of ladies and gen- tlemen going on in the next room. I saw the guests mustering as we came in. They wer9 so ringed and chained that they would have excited envy and admiration even at a Jewish wedding. They are all talking to- gether at the top of their voices against the Austrian occupation. The odor of their hot meats and the fine smoke of their cigarettes come creeping through the many chinks and ci~annies of the slender partition which divides us. Twice I have heard a scuffling behind my door, and 1 have felt that an in- quisitive eye was applied to a key-hole, from which the lock has long since been wrenched in some midnight freak. Derisive whisper- ing, followed by loud laughter, has also given i~ne the agreeable assurance that my move- ments are watched with a lively and specula- tive inteFest. They appear to add consider- ably to the entertainment of the company. I am abashed by feeling myself the cause of so much hilarity, and stealthily put ou~ the lizJit. Then I wrap myself up resolutely in a roquelaire, take the bed by assault, and shut my eyes desperately to the consequences; doing drowsy battle with the foe, as I feel them crawling from time to time beneath a mustache or under an eyelid. I am igno- miniously routed, however, at last, and rise from that loathsome bed blistered and fevered. The screaming and shouting in the next room has by this time grown demoniacal. My friends are evidently making a night of it: so I begin to wonder whether the talisman of a ducat will not induce a waiter and a lantern to go with me to the steam-boat. I may pace the deck till morning, if I cannot sleep; for the Galatz hotel-keepers have I know protested against passengers being al- lowed berths on board the vessels when in port. The silver spell succeeds. A sooty little fellow, like a chimney-sweep, agrees to ac- company me, and we go scuffling among rat- holes, open sewers, sleeping vagabonds, and scampering cats down to the quagmire by the water-side; and, scramliling over bales of goods, and a confused labyrinth of chains and cordage, gain the deck of the good ship Ferdinand. A cigar, a joke, and a dollar, overcome the stewards scruples about a berth, and I wake next morning to the rat- tling sound of the paddle-wheels. The boat is very full. It i~ as difficult to get at the washhaiid-basins as to fight ones way to the belle of a ball-room. I pounce on one at last, however, by an adroit flank movement, and prepare for a thoroughly British souse, when a young Wallachian in full dress, and diamond ear-rings, who has just been ,putting an amazing quantity of unguents on his hair comes up and coolly commences cleaning his teeth beside me. He looks round with a bright good- natured smile when he has finished, and is plainly at a loss to understand the melan- choly astonishment depicted in my coun- tenance. The deck is crowded with a strange com- pany. There are the carousing party who broke my rest last night. They glitter from head to foot with baubles and gewgaws; but the gentlemen are unwashed and un- shorn, and it is well for the ladies that their rich silk and velvet dresses do not easily show the ravages of time and smoke. They are dressed in the last fashions of Ilolborn or the Palais Royal, and one of the dames, I learn, is a princess, with more ducats and peasants than she can count. She spends a great part of the day adorning herself in her cabin the centre of an admiring crowd of tinselled gallants, who assist at her toilette, with compliments and with suggestions of a naiveti quite surprising. Then there is ~ fat old Moldavian lady or 22 THE SHOW OFFICER. the old school. She wears a black great- coat lined with a pale fur, and Wellington hoots. Her head is swathed and bound up in many bandages. She wears thumb rings, and smokes continually. Our passengers are indeed of the most motley character, for- we have quitted the excellent boats of the Danube Company, and are now on board a vessel belonging to the Austrian Lloyds, very inferior in size and accommodation, although built for going to sea. The first and second class passengers mingle together indiscriminately, and the whole deck is en- cumbered with a shouting, screaming, laugh- ing, wrangling mass of parti-colored human- ity. There are Gallician Jew girls, going under the escort of some rascally old specu- lator to Coi~stantinople, and dressed like our poor mountebank lasses who go about on stilts at country fairs. They are a bright- eyed kindly race of gipsies and good-natured termagants, with a smile and a saucy word for everybody. Watching theip, with great contempt, is a German professor, who has indiscreetly shaved the small hairs from the point of his nose till he has quite a beard on it. There is a long Austrian officer in a short cavalry cloak, who looks not unlike a stork; and there is a small Austrian officer, in a long infantry great-coat, who domineers over him, and is evidently h15 superior. They a~re an odd pair, and pace the deck together with a military dignity and precision quite comical. There is a brace of gipsies, hered- itary serfs, with dark fiery eyes, rich com- plexions, and red handkerchiefs tied pictur- esquely with the striking grace in costume which distinguishes that outcast race in all countries .Then there are Greek and Arme- nian traders engaged in all sorts of rascally speculations connected with the war and the corn markets sly, sharp-nosed men who have scraped together large fortunes by in- conceivable dodges and scoundrel tricks; who have their correspondents and.branch- houses at Marseilles, Trieste, Vienna, Paris, London, and New York; who would over- reach a Jew of Petticoat Lane, and snap their fingers at him; who have all the rank vices and keen wit of a race oppressed for centuries, newly-emancipated. All power, wealth, and dominion in the Levant is passing into their hands. Long after I who write these lines shall sketch and scribble no more, the chivalry of the West will have a fearful struggle with them. May Heaven make it victorious! Our party is completed by two bandy beggars, with gray ear s and bald heads; a crowd of the commonplace men of the Levant, loud, important, patron- izing, presuming, vile, ignorant, worthless, estounding for their impudence; the cap- tain, a brusque, talkative, self-confident Italian, and his wife~ a lady from Ragusa, silent and watchful, with a sweet smile and a meaning eye. We get under weigh betimes in the morn- ing; for, below Galatz, ships are only al- lowed to navigate the Danube between day- light and dark, so that in these shortening days they must make the most of it. The noble river is crowded with vessels; and, now and then, we meet a valuable raft of timber for ships masts floating downwards. This will be stopped by the Russians, to the cruel injury of trade. I learn from an Arme- nian merchant on board, that a mast such as would sell for fifty pounds at Constantinople may be here bought for lIve pounds or less; so that there will be some grand speculations in timber whenever peace is declared. At Tschedal, just below Ismail, we come to anchor; and, after a short delay, a trim little boat shoots smartly out from the Bess- arabian shore towards us. It is pulled by six rowers, in the peculiar gray ~reat-coat~ and black leather cross-belts which distin- guish Russian soldiers. At the helm is a seventh soldier decorated with a brass badge and some medal of merit; at the prow stands an eighth; in the seat of honor sits the officer empowered to examine our passports, and to ascertain that our ship carries no military stores or contraband of war. At the bottom of the boat is a pile of muskets, and from the stern flutters the Russian war flag a blue cross on a white ground. The trim little boat is soon hooked on to our side, and the officer steps lightly and gracefully on deck. He is a Pole; and, though but twenty-five or twenty-six years ojd, is already a major of marines. I cannot help thinking also that he is a show officex. He is dressed within an inch of his life. His uniform would turn half the heads at Al- macks; for it is really charming in its ele- gant propriety and good taste. It is a dark rifle-green uniform, with plain round gilt buttons, and not made tawdry by embroidery. Two heavy epaulettes of bullion, with glitter- ing silver stars, which announce the rank of the wearer, are its only ornament. His boots might have been drawn through a ring, and look quite like kid gloves on his dainty little feet. His well-shaped helmet is of varnished leather, with the Russian eagle in copper gilt upon it; and this eagle and the bright hilt of his sword flash back the rays of the sun quite dazzlingly. We, poor, dingy, travel- stained passengers appear like slaves in the presence of a king, before him. He speaks French perfectly. He is excru- ciatingly polite, and is evidently a man of the world, conscious of being entrusted with a delicate duty; but rather overdoing it. He would be handsome, but for small, eunrdng, THE SHOW OFFICER. or rather roguish eyes, when roguish is used in an undefined sense, and may mean smart- ness good or bad; but it is difficult to take his measure. He has evidently seen service. His hair is of the light rusty brown of nature and exposure. His face is shorn, except a sweeping mustache peculiarly well trimmed. There are some lines ~about his face which tell the old story of suffering and privation. He is, as I have said, courteous more than courteous. He does not even examine the Greek and Moldo-Wallachian passports but he pauses over the French and English to see if the visas are correct. Mine he ex- amined more narrowly, and then returned it with a gay d~bonnaire bow, a polite smile, and a backward step. A Greek keeps up a conversation with him the whole time he re- mains on board. I fancy there is more in it than meets the ear. Ia speaking to this fellow the major takes a short, sharp, abrupt, hasty tone of command, like a man in author- ity pres~ed for time. The major does not examine the hold of the vessel, nor interrogate any of the Austrian officers. There is evi- dently a shyness and ill-will between them. When we have each filed past him intern, the Pole draws his elegant figure up to jts full slim height, tightens his belt, and marehes with a light gallant s~ep from one end of the vessel to the other. Then l~e halts at the gangway, faces about, casts a hawks eye round the ship, and descends the com- panion-ladder. The trim little bark is hooked closer on; then the grapnels are loosened, and she spreads her light sail to the wind. The rowers shelve their oars, and the next moment she is dashing the spray from her bows, and flying towards the shore with the speed of a sea-gull. At the stern sits the Pole upright as a dart, the sunbeams toying with his helmet a picture to muse on. Nothing could have been in better taste than the whole thing. It might have served for a scene of an opera, or a chapter in a delightfully romantic peace novel. I confess I cannot help feeling something like a pity~- ing tenderness for the smart cavalier; who may, a few days hence, be called away to the war, and return to his true love never be mashed by a cannon shot, or blown into small pieces by a mine his lifes errand all unaccomplished, his bright life suddenly marred. I think, too, how strange and sad is the destiny which can make such a Pole take part in a cause which, if successful, will rivet the chains of his countrymen forever; and how he would meet his patriot country- men who have joined the hostile ranks in hundreds for only one faint hope~of freedom. Below Ismail the Danube was a perfect forest of masts, and we had some difficulty in steering our way through the maze of ships. The river is very narrow in many places. A child could easily throw a stone across it. The Turkisliand Russian laborers in the fields on the Bulgarian and Bessarabian shores are within hail of each other. And every breeze blows waifs and strays across the narrow boundary. Turkish and Russianwild-fowi, wiper than men, (ihat axnicaj2dy together about their prospects for the winter, and call blithe- ly to ~aeh other from shore to shore among the reeds. The character of the country on both sides of the river is very much the san~e flat and uninteresting. Now and then, however, a charming little valley opens among w~o~s and waters in the distanee, and here and there rises a solitary guard- house, or a few fishermen burrow among rooks and caverns. Thirty hours after our departure from Galatz we steam into the crowded port of Sulina, where one thousand sail are Wind-bound. SATInE AGAINST SHERLOcK. The following extract from Short Remarks on the Life of Dr. Xennett, p. 19, affords a curious illus- tration of Macaulays account of Sherlock, vol. iv. p. 60: On one occasion, Pr. Hiekes, Dr. Sherlock, and others, were in conversation at the fireside of that honest bookseller, Wat Ket~ilby, when Dr. Sherlock made the following remark: Brother Hickes, they that take the oaths are as surely damned as the fire burns. To which Dr. Hickes replied, I believe I may take them when you do. But some time after, St. Pauls Deanery prevailed with Dr. Sherlock to take the dose; and some say the Vixon was the occasion of it. Upon this account Tom Brown ha~ these words, wh~eh are ingenious: When Eve ~he fruit had tasted, 8he to her husband hasted, And chnekd him on the chin-a; Dear Bud, quoth she, come taste this fruit, T will finely withyour palate suit, To eat it is no sin-a. As moody Job in shirtless ease, With collyllowrs all oer his face, Did on the dunghill languish, His spouse thus whisperd ~n his ear, Swear, husband, as you love mg, swear, T will ease you of your anguish. .7Votes and Queries. J. Y. 24 THE SCAPEGRACE. rrom Household Words. THE SCAPEGRACE. I AM the son of my fathers old age, but of my mothers youth; he had a son and a daughter, Robert and Susan, not younger than she when I was born into the world; he was of an old county family, and had good possessions, a magistrate, deputy lieu- tenant, and the rest, but he belonged to a generation before that in which he lived, and passed a yeomanlike and homely life from the day he led the dance in the great barn at one-and-twenty to that wherein he was borne to the village churchyard, with half the parish in mourning for their bene- factor, for his funeral train. I seem to see him on his strong Welsh pony riding leisurely along over his lands, or, with his little son before him, to the neighboring markets; or watching his beau- tiful grayhounds upon the hillside, as they follow every double of the wily hare; or at his grand old harvest-homes (a picture that is worth preserving) sitting down at the same table with tenant and laborer without one thought of patronage or condescension, and crowned with reverence and the silver hair;~~ or, in the early September mornings, striding swiftly through turnip- fields, or at his winter fireside, amidst a great company of friends. What Indian, what Arab ever paid the rites of hospitality more religiously than he? What a home of mirth, and feasting, and unpolished honest fun was that great straggling house of his! The stables, indeed, were terribly near one side of it, and the farmyard hadbeen near the other before his second marriage, but my mother had pushed it back with her delicate resolute hands, and made rookery and gar- den-ground there instead; the poor folks said that flowers sprang up under her feet, and in this case they did so literally, but, nevertheless, at all times the old house must have been the most charming in the world. My father doted on his wife, and her in- fluence was always used for good; I was their favorite child, and Robert and Susan knew it; I trust in this little tale of mine I shall not speak more harshly of them than they deserve, nor forget that they are my fathers children; but I also have to remem- ber what I owe to my dead mother. What recurs to me of my childhood is so different from my after-experience of life, that it seems almost to me to belong to the biography of another; the love that was lavished on me, the patience that bore with me, the pleasures that blossomed for me then at every turn, seem not of this same world at all. There was a great armchair which I used to stand up in behind my father, and eat sweetmeats from the dessert- table, which he conveyed to me over his shoulder; also it was a great delight of mine to put his honey, which he preferred to sugar, into his tea, and stir it for him; to take off his massy silver spectacles and en- deavor to hitch them upon my small pug nose, and to blow out the flame of the brandy in his mince-pies. Afterwards I had a little pony of my own; and about the breezy downland I would gallop all day long, after foxhounds or har- riers, or even a ho op. It will astonish those who are unacquainted with long undulating downs on a high tableland, to learn that I have followed a common broadish hoop upon windy days, up and down hill for miles; it would leap many feet high at every molehill, bound with incredible rapidity to the valleys, and creep up the opposite ascents quite slowly, until, when near the brow of the rise, the wind would catch it again; and, when it came to the great roads with banks on either side, as is the case in thos~ parts, it would clear them like a deer. Moreover, there was the Thames not far from us, and the most picturesqu~ fishing-village upon it possible: and I would punt myself alone, and quite contrary to orders, upon its broad bright bosom in the summer noons. The glory of wood nnd cliff, which was wont to fill me with such joy, the swift running mill- races, and the foamy lashers, with the great eel-pots leaning over them, still fill a niche within my mind so deeply that I almost think I might have been a poet, had my lines fallen upon more pleasant places afterwards; nay, if suffering, as so9 say, conduces to the making such a being, I am sure I have learnt in sorrow much to teach in song. I was about nine years old, I think, when my trouble-time first began. My father getting very aged and ailing, and my mother being much occupied in at- tending to him, I was left a good deal to myself. There was indeed a tutor engaged for me, a Mr. Laurence, but of him I did not get much gqod in any way; he had, however, distinguished himself at the University, and was recommended by Robert himself, who was then at college. Whether this man was sent by him maliciously to harm me in my fathers eyes, I cannot tell, but he was entirely unfitted for his post; being a drunken and immoral person, whose charac- ter could hardly have concealed itself from one so astute as his selector. He took me out to fairs and village feasts, and gave me such a taste for beer and skittles that I took them to be the meat and drink of life. I became extremely fond of tossing for sixpences, also, and conceived an absorbing passion for playing put; indulging in it to such an extent hardly credible in so young 25 THE SCAPEGRACE. a gentleman. Mr. Laurence was much too cunning to let any of this come to my parents ears while he was with me; but, in the va- cations, I used to revisit the haunts he had introduced me to, alone. On one occasion I had come home very tipsy, and could not open the back garden-gate. Robert came out and conversed with me across it, while I divided his name into infinite syllables; and, having satisfied himself of my condition, he went back under pretence of fetching the key.. Then he took me sharply by the arm, and led me into the house, and up the stairs into my sick fathers room. Here is your son Charles, sir, said he. You wished to see him; but I am afraid he is not quite in a fit state to be talked to. I muttered a few broken sentences, and stared in a drunken manner from one to the other. Robert, said my father, leave the room. Af~r a little pause, and when his command had been obeyed, he said, My poor boy, can you answer me one question? The tears ran down my cheeks for shame (and perhaps a little accelerated by the liquor J had imbibed), and I murmured that I could. Have you ever been in this state before, Charles? Yes, sir, I have. And who went with you to the public- house to-day? Nobody, sir; nobody, indeed, sir, I ansWed. I ad thought to please him by declaring no one else to be in fault; but ~he groaned aloud, and, without looking towards me again, he bade me go away and get to bed. Fondness for low society, and drunkenness, were just those vices most abhorrent to my father, and that I had indulged in them both at such an early age, and of my own natural inclination, shocked him beyond measure. My mother came in from his room to mine an hour afterwards, and fell into a passion of tears at my bedside: I was miserable and penitent enough, and she for- gave me; but I felt something else had dis- tressed her beside my own delinquencies; I was now become, openly, the bone of con- tention between my mother and her step- children. Susan, who was a fine-looking dark lady, with wicked eyes, tall and straight, with an insolent carriage and manners, and a temper not hard to beprovoked,. did not any longer take pains to conceal her contempt for us two interlopers. My mother had little or no money, and her family were of a slightly lower grade than that of my father, and poor people and low people were equally Susans aversion. Susan had also a natural hatred of a woman as young and pretty as herself, and was especially jealous of her in- fluence with my father. She had given up the seat at the head of the table with a bad grace, and never let slip an opportunity of annoying her rival; which she easily enough effected by striking at her through me. She remarked, the next day after my escapade, that I was a spoilt boy, and apparently a~ vicious boy, and that I must be sent to school. Robert also followed on the same side, al- though in a less obnoxious style. An assent to this plan was obtained from the sick-room, despite my mothers opposition, and to school I went. Susan wanted me to be sent to Christs Hospital, as being cheap and good enough, and because its discipline was at that time very severe; but I was despatched to Eton. What a pleasant place was that! The only school, as it seems to me, which the amenities of civilized life have really reached; where, not only amongst the upper boys (who at many other places behave creditably enough) but in the lower for~ns, the ferocity of the English schoolboy is abated by the knowledge that he is an English gentleman. What healthy lives they led! Scores of them swim- ming the river, at all times, and scores of them learning to swim it, by help of an amphibious being with a pole, and a girth at the end of it, or by the more summary fashion of being chucked in by their friends. What riders were there, too! although riding was prohibited under the form of a severe enactment against wearing straps to their trousers such an enormity as an Etonian riding without straps not being then contem- plated, just as the judge of old thought no particular law necessary against parricide. What leapers of brooks, what runners in paper chases! All these things pleased me hugely, and would have made me happy, if I could have forgotten my mother, and what she suffered for my sake. For myself, I quite dreaded the vacation times, especially as I was getting into worse rather than better favor; I had got tipsy what Etonian has not?at Surley, on the fourth of June, and had been swished accordingly, and this had been reported in proof of my evil disposition. I knew who told these tales well enough; and, not being deficient in spirit, I waged an open war against my enemies. When sister Susan predicted my future ruin one day amidst the family assembled, adding, IDont come to me for help, sir, when you get into dis- grace! I replied, with some asperity, that in such a case I would rather prefer going to the evil one for help, which I own was very improper, although it exactly expressed what 26. TIlE SCAPEGRACE. I meant at the time. Ilobert, who was a clergyman by this time, reprimanded me for making use of such an expression; my mother entreated me for her sake to keep my temper; the aggrieved party (if Susan were she) in- sisted on my being beaten; and my poor old father, with quavering voice and shaking hand, besought that his children would not hurry him to his grave, by their disputes, before his time was ripe. This scene was not the last, by many, which embitter the memory of boyhood to this day. I had been un4uestionably a good deal spoilt; but I am sure I was of a pliable and loving disposition up to this time. In one winter half-year at school, however, when I was changing from the remove to the fifth form from the governed to. the governing classes a circumstance occurred which altered my temper as much as my prospects. The captain of the house in which I lodged was a bully; one of the few creatures I ever knew (and a very rare vermin at Eton) who could shut himself up alone with a victim, for the enjoyment of torture. He had always hated and oppressed me; and, seeing his chances of tyranny draw near their end by my advancement, he deter- mined to take it out of mc, while he could. lie actually locked himself into my room for the purpose of thrashing me with a cricket- bat; and, after a little struggle, in which his superior strength easily prevailed, he did thrash me, I resisted to the utmost, and, wild with rage, threw at him as he left the room, the first weapon within reach, an open penknife. He turned round sharply with a cry, and knocking his side against the door- post violently, the haft was broken off where it was projected, and the blade left in his ribs. It seemed to me, who was then nothing better than a scapegrace, that, al- though the full extent of the injury inflicted was accidental, one need have no more scruple about punishing such brutes than in destroy- ing polecats. But the head master thought otherwise. My tyrant had the meanness to say I had provoked the conflict, and then stabbed him with my own hand. So I came back to Thy fathers house an expelled boy. I had plenty of leaving books given to me, plenty of good wishes, and even a letter from my tutor, explaining the circumstances as he himself (rightly) believed them to have oc- curred; but my father said, He will never be my Charlie again. Ilobert said nothing, but wore a smirk of satisfaction. Susan re- marked, it was just what she had expected from the beginning; and my mother I think she saw how it was going to be with me through life when she came into my room at night, as her custom was, prayed God to defend me from myaelf, or to take me away at once out of the pitiless world. Whenever from that day I answered Sister Susan, she would say: There, young gen- tleman, you are doubtless right; but pray dont stab me. While her brother on all occasions eyed me as the Grand Inquisitor might be supposed to have eyed a Jew; and I dare say he would have enjoyed my auto- da-f6 hugely. He had the selection of my next school; and it did a great deal of credit to his choice; it was cheap, it was a long way off, and its studies were not rudely broken in upon by vacations. The boys were shocking little blackguards, and Mr. Parrot, the master, was a shocking big blackguard. He was accustomed to beat me with one end of a threepenny cane until it became frayed at the edges, and then he beat me with the other end. I was employed in regular work for ten hours a day, ~xcept on the afternoons of Wednesday and Sat~irday and alt day on Sunday; at which times I was confined in the frowsy schoolroom for arrears. This last misery, to one like my- self, who had been brought up in the open air, became quite insufferable, and last I r,an away. The place was not very far from Lon- don; and thither, in preference to going home- ward, I determined to decamp. Now, it so happened that Monday the day on which I put this design into execution was that appointed for the French master to come over to Rodwell Academy. I met him upon the road. He was a fine old fellow, who had served in Napoleons grandarmy and at Waterloo; and he marched with his stick thrown back over his shoulder, life a sword. I had a bundle of clothing and tra~s in my hand, and was running like the win so that Monsieur Pifar did not require to be a philosopher to discover my intention. Stop, stop, mon enfant, he shouted, with his stick-sword at arms length, to bar my passage. Vat dat you run for, Monsieur Charley, you will not be back for my class, I fear, for the encore une fois, mon cher, since you never do read aright the first time. We will go back together now, to have our leetle deealogue. Now, the leetle deealogue was just what I had timed my escape to avoid; those interesting French and English conversations which we were obliged to hold on Monday mornings, such as, Will it not be better to ring the bell for candles? or, how far is it from this place to Lisle? So I backed a little, and leaped the hedge on my right hand to avoid his company. The Frenchman charged after me as if he were again at Mont Saint Jean, and we sped over the ploughed land at racing speed. Tru~tinb in my activity and endurance, and willing at all times to make the most I could out of 27 28 TUE SCAPEGRACE. everything, I took him over the stiffest coun- and ~iad grown spiritless and haggard from try and across the broadest dykes I could the cruelty of those who should have com- find. Twice in tLatgreat pursuit the teacher forted her; now she was forlorn and widowed~ fell short of his intention, and into brawling she bowed before their sneers and cutting floods. Once he came forth from out a words, as a lily before the bitter wind. regular bulifincher, which I had burrowed, While my father yet lay dead in an up~ei~ and slipped under on my stomach like a chamber, Robert and his sister began to talk rabbits lie leaving his short black wig pen- of money-matters, and even su ested our dant upon the bushes, hanging so light, departure from the house. The ~l had left and hanging so high, o~ the topmost twig all to them, save one thousand pounds to that looked up at the sky; but still he kept me, and five hundred pounds a-year to my on manfully, and the weight of my burden mother, during her life. Like ilagar and began to tell upon me. I could hear his Ishmael were we cast forth, and the places cochons! and mon dieus! more audibly with that we had loved and lived in so long, were every stride; and I determined, as a last to know us never more. Ishmaci was the resource, to try the river. Alas, swimming first mauvais sujet, and I the last, I thought, with ones clothes and boots on, with a as we drove over the hill-top by the wind- bundle on ones back, is very different from mill, and left the little valley behind us for- the Leander method, and I should have been ever. drowned but for Monsieur Pifar. As it was, My hope was to be able to support myself I lost my consciousness; and, when it re- without being a burden to my mother, but turned, 1 found him chafing my hands with she had made her plans far otherwise; I was great solicitude, and calling himself scdi~rat, to be sent to college, at whatever discomfort and me his enfant, but f~r all that he took to herself, before choosing for myself some me back to school. I was to be made an profession that need not dissever me from her. example of, and had two days allowed me to Her heart, alas! was so fully fixed on me, g et strong in after I had recovered from my that she gave no thought to the deadly dis- d ; just as pigs are cared for previous to ease at work within her, about to take from their intended massacre. me, pot only my chance of worldly fortune, Mr. Parrots kind intentions were, how- but the greatest good fortune Heaven can ever, frustrated by my being sent for to the send a man a loving mother. death-bed of my father. My mother had not Surely, there is no place where men of such deared to mention my name, so grievously various expectations meet upon this earth, on had I been misrepresented to him; but one day so nearly the same level as at an English he looked about him anxiously, and asked University. One small set of men, especially whether he had not another son. From that of fast men, often comprehending within it time, until I tardily arrived, he muttered, the titled heir of half a county, and the CharlieCharlie, with all the pertinacity ambitious youth, who is spending his little of a dying man. I found him propped up in capital, all that he will have in the world his wide-spread bed, with all his family before him, in making merry during his three around hjni, nearly at h~is last. He forgave college years; it requires no effort of his me all my faults, and spoke most lovingly own to thrust back the wretchedness that to me. awaits him, until the very last moment, And you, Cha4es, too,have something to youth, high spirits, and the society of those forgive, I knew. Robelt, shake hands With who never think of work as a necessi him, and proniise to befriend him when I am ignore the dreadful fact as long as possible, gone. and Lord Raffle Oaks and Sir Rayther Rapid Robert obeyed, and said impressively: have no reason to think but that sonie an- I will do the best t can for ~iis good, cestral mansion, or great town-house, awaits father. in their gay companion, as it does in ti~em- And you,d~ughter Susan, tal~e his hand selves, a present cn~ future owner. Whata also, or his 4oice was leaving fearful training is this for a penniless man him. IBut she drew herself up stiffly, and re- Accustomed as he has been naturally to all fused; saying, she could not be so hypocritical sorts of luxury and enjoyment, hut to the for any one, certainl{ not at such a time as most deferential and obsequious behavior that; neither,for a 1 my father could urge, from those beneath him, he will one day find would she kiss my mother, but she did shake hands with her across the the bowing tradesman ready to give him in charge for loitering about his warehouse in This sad scene, at length, was over, ai4 I suspicious clothing, or the stable groom, whQ was sent out of the~room; nor ever sawthe has worn out his hatbrim with servility, to dear old man again. His death, however, did challenge him to fight for beer. There is not so move me, as my mothers altered nothing of this that Ims not happened again looks; she was pale and thin with watching, and again, but it did not chance to me; 4- TIlE SCAPEGRACE. 29 though I could not bring myself to read, I nuity at almost any price, sh~ wrote ta never forgot that my mothers means were Robert Wroughton (or whose rate wielted narrowed for my sake, and whenever I deed I had not informed her) to remind him hunted, or committed an extravagance, I in- of the words of his dying father, and to variably devoted some of my own one know if he was willing to do anything foi~ thousand pounds, to pay the debt, which me. His answerwritten by Susan instead legacy, for some reason or other, I had not of himself, under pretence of press of busi- yet received; riding, indeed, was my chief ness conveyed his opinion that I ought to temptation, and I gave way to it very often, be articled to some honest trade.; no definite my favorite costume was a cut-away coat, proposition was mentioned, but iiierely that and I took a pride in a certain handiness of suggestion framed expressly to make my my legs. One day, as I straddled into Hall, mother weep. She did not weep long, kind with a sporting air, I perceived a well-known heart. In three weeks from that time I was face at the high table fix itself on mine, with left (at nineteen) an orphan. Alone, with cynical smile; it was that of my reverend my last friend in the churchyard, I was brother, who was evidently prepared to see forced now to look life in the face. I wanted me similarly attired, and when he whispered work, employment of any kind; but how to my tutor, at his side, I did nt doubt that was I to get it whom had I to advise with? he was not increasing my favor with that My college companions I determined, wisely, dignitary. If I had been a little nearer I to separate from. The neighbors who lived dare say I should have caught the words, in my fathers county, and who had mostly Mauvais sujet. After the next college exami- taken our side in the family quarrel, I was nation, indeed, in which I did not take a too proud to apply to; Robert, of course, very distinguished place, my tutor sent for was out of the question. me to his rooms, and thus in his peculiar I wrote to him for what was due to me, style delivered himself: and he sent me six hundred pounds, the rest Mr. Charles Wroughton, your progress having been deducted for expenses of my here is anything but satisfactory to the schooling, and even for the purchase of my authorities; and I should not be doing my little pony, years ago. I do not know whether duty, Mr. Wroughton, if if if, in fact, he robbed me legally or not; but I felt so we did not do something. The dean also sure that his prudence would not have suf- informs me that, never having been to morn- fered him to do anything criminal or action- ing chapel for ever so long, we now find your able, that I took no steps in the matter. evening chapels diminishing; besides, you Three hundred pounds I owed for, bills at ought to have explained to me having been college; and, as may, be well supposed, my expelled from Eton in so unfortunate a man- dear mother had had nothing to bequeath nerwhat the circumstances were. Indeed, me. I p aid all, therefore, and with what in short, your friends must, I am sorry to remained I started to seek my fortune, say, be written to with regard to your re- whither all other adventurers, from the days moval from the in point of fact the col- of Whittington, have goneto London. lege. I took a cheap and dirty lod~ing in one I said, Dont trouble yourself, sir, to of the streets out of Golden Square, and write to my friends. I will withdraw at stared for some days over its dingy blind, in once of my own accord; and I went straight hopes of something, somehow, turning up. from his presence to the Butteries, and took In that great city, without even an acquaint- my name oft the books of St. Winifreds. ance to converse with, and with that little My tutor, who was far from an unkind, capital, on which alone I could count for although an ungrammatical man, would, I bare subsistence, dribbling away, I was in- knew, have taken no such step as this with- deed a pitiable object. No summit of a out the promptings of some evil tongues. My Caucasian mountain, no depth of a disused offences were venial compared to those of lead mine, could have been a more solitary many of my companions, and had deserved spot to me than that populous town was. no such punishment. I looked over the Times advertisements 0 what a punishment it wa.s! To have to with those eager eyes which foresee starva- meet my dear self-sacrificing mothers face, tion in the not distant future; I watched for and see it pale before the news I had to tell; benevolent old gentlemen in the streets, and to know that, from that moment, even in her put my trust in those chance adventures heart, mistrust and doubt of me began to which are used (in books) to erect colossal grow; and to feel, as I do feel, that the death fortunes. At last, a Wanted a youth, of which was hanging over her was brought good appearance and address, as an account- down at once by this rude shock! She now ant, seemed to present to me the hopeof a first seemed aware of her precarious state, livelihood. The situation was to he had in and, having striven in vain to sell her an- an office under that little colonnade off Wa- TIlE SCAPEGRACE. terloo Place, which looks as if the opera-house had been first projected there, but afterwards had been begun again lower down. A dark- some den enough it turned out to be, and the proprietor of it (whom, however, I never saw in broad daylight) was horrible to be- hold. There was a lurid gleam if I may say so, made up of the fire of the worst pas- sions forever playing over his murky coun- tenance. He never asked me for a reference, but simply proposed his terms of one pound a-week, and bade me take them or leave them; I was in his service for a month or two, but was employed during that period in such an unaccountable manner, that I cannot say what I did. I wrote out heaps of law gibberish for him; I drew up hundreds of forms of I promise to pay; I was made a witness scores of times to little bill trans- actions which I did not understand, between the ogre and an infinite variety of strange gentlemen. I took money about for him to the most diverse habitations; from the very street where my own lodgings were situated up to the fashionable squares. He may have been the man who distributes the Secret Ser- vice Fund for the government, or he may have been the man who accommodates no- blemen and gentlemen on their own personal security, for himself; but, at all events, he was not a man of delicate scruples, or re- fined notions of honor. I am sure of this, because, when I left him, upon his taking into his service an additional young hand, who seemed to be the quintessence of roguery, he never gave me a sixpence of my salary a debt which I had foolishly allowed to accu- mulate. You should always have these agreements put in writing, my dear sir, he said, when he wished me good-bye. I was very bitter-hearted and desperate after this. I thought of living merrily with what little money I had still left, and then of making an end of it. My intercourse with this old rascal had not improved my morals. I was getting, if not Robert Macaire- ish, at least Devil-may-care-ish. I would go to the theatres and cider-cellars, and see life generally, for nights together; and then I would make a spasmodic effort at economy, and would give sixpence for the right of sleeping in a cab, or would give fourpence for a days subsistence, in the shape of a sandwich and a glass of ale. At last I made up my mind to do what I should have done long before: I was at- tracted by a gaudy placard upon a dead wall, headed Wealth, wealth, wealth!~ It went on to describe the certain prosperity that re- 8ulted to all who went by the Cobweb Line of Packets to Australia, and I resolved to emigrate. Much of my wardrobe, which was very disproportionate to my slender finances, I disposed of fbr a few pounds. I had no P.P.C, cards to leave for anybody; and, in three days time from having seen the placard, I was on board the Shaky, bound for the port of Sydney having seen quite enough, I thou ht, and to spare, of this side of the The Shaky was an emigrant ship, sailing at a very cheap rate, and in an entirely in- efficient state for anything beyond an ex- cursion to the Isle of Wight. There was a great lack of necesstiries of all kinds; so much so, that we were reduced to biscuits for the last month. Of comforts there were absolutely none. I had taken with my last money (except a pound or two) a stern cabin berth, and, therefore, my experiences were not worse than other peoples. The man who pretended to be the surgeon, might just as well have been the cook; and, on the other hand, the cook of whose culinary skill, however, there was no great test on board might as well have been the sur- geon. Whenever there was any wind, no matter how favorable, we were forced to shorten sail, for there were only two or three bits of canvas which could bear to be blown against; the ropes were in an equally rotten condition; and the discipline was so ill- maintained that we ran one vessel down in broad daylight, and were ourselves in most imminent danger from a fire that broke out in the forecastle. We were nearly seven wretched months before w~e came in sight of the prbmised land. All whom I had associated with upon the passage seemed to have some p lan or other fixed upon for their future guidance, and by no means appeared anxious to be joined in it by so magnificent a youth as I; for there was no change as yet in my appearance (for what should I have gained by it?) from the day when I companioned with the Saint Winifred swells; and they rightly judged that a gentleman, and especially a fast gen- tleman, would not be of much service at a squatting run or at the gold diggings. I was as much without a profession, or a no- tion of getting a livelihood, therefore, when we got view of Sydney, as in the London streets. The sight of land at all, however, was a cheering thing; and, as we passed be- tween the lofty heads, and beheld the forest of masts within the harbor, and the city stretching away on either side, its beautiful wings with tower and steeple rising from the mass, and the pleasure-houses and gardens crowning the hills above, it seemed a wel- come home enough to a storm-tossed wretch like me. We ~vere moored alongside a wharf in Darling Harbor, and disgorged all our crew. 30 THE SCAPEGItA~E. They went out by twos and up to tens; or, if one disembarked alone, it was to meet a welcoming hand upon the shore, and to hear a voice that bade him be of good cheer. I was the only one quite solitary and without a friend; and yet the appearance of all around me seemed as though it were at least my native country; the same faces, the same language (a circumstance which cer- tainly makes a colony, however distant, less strange and alien than a foreign land), and even the well-remembered cry of Cab, sir, cab? assailed me as if at the Marble Arch or Jiolborn Hill. The beautiful clearness and pleasant warmth of the air was, how- ever, far other than that of London; and in the Botanic Gardens, where I wandered on the very evenin~ of my arrival, all tropical plants were flourishing without protection from the weather. I lay that night at a small inn near the docks, and started to seek my fortune a pursuit I was by this time a little tired of the next morning. Porters were wanted, laziers were at a premium, good Scotch gar- deners in request, and skilled laborers in the coach-making department, I think; but I saw no advertisement, heard no inquiry, for a young gentleman with half a university education. I purchased some suitable rai- meat, and took the best choice that offered itself. I enga~ed myself as a porter at the i)arling Dock. I had to work like a horse, but I was very strong, and my earnings were not less than six shillings a-day. I got hum- l)le lodgment, also, in the house of a friendly squatter, who had failed in that particular line of business through his own fault drunkenness. lie told e plenty of stories of the delights of his own profession of the snugness of a log-hut of the choiceness of kangaroo soup. Many an evening over our tea (which he poked into the kettle in company with the sugar, as it is Bush fashion to do) and damper-cake, he spake of this and that clear- ing, and of crops of maize and wheat; of boiling-houses, of tallow, and of the charms of Australian gelatine; but all his eloquence was spent in vain, until he touched upon cattle-grazing. The danger and excitement of this kind of life seemed indeed infinitely I)refcrable to sweating under weights and l~urdens .And yet I knew that I was deficient in the diligence and perseverance that must needs be exercised by a good stockman; what wits I had, I felt were of the civilized sort; and I was loth to leave the metropolis, where better things had more chance to befal me than in a far-away squatting district. But the final argument which very near per- suaded me to leave Sydney for good (except when I might return to spend my hard- earned money in it on dissipation, at long intervals, as my kind-hearted narrator had done) was the picture he drew of the stock- mans Centaur-like life: mounted on swift horses from dawn to dusk, and almost con- tinually engaged in the wildest description of hunting; racing by the side of thousands of cattle now heading, now turning them, and now having to escape by whip and spur from their horned fury. Ah! exclaimed I, with joy; you ye hit on the very thing. I should like to see the Australian horse I could not ride! A rider? he replied. What! A rough rider? Then your fortune s made, and you need not go far to find it. From Murrum- bidgee from Wellington Pltiins, there are five hundred wild horses in the city, if there s one, at this present. So, I left my portering to itself for that next day, and accompanied him to a horse- dealers, and here were, sure enough, fine spirited horses in plenty, and a great insuf- ficiency of jocks. One unhappy youthno stockman, for he is always a capital rider, but a sort of parody upon the slang tightly- dressed boy of the old country was just then endeavoring to subdue a mighty quad- ruped in the straw-yard. Twice he had been flung before our eyes, and there seemed every likelihood of his being flung a third time, when I offered my services to the master. He bade me try, if I thought I could do it better or wanted to get my blessed neck broke. The boy dismounted; and when I got up in his place, I felt that I was myself again, for the first time since I had left Saint Wini- freds. What a joyous exultation what a sense of life and power did I experience with that fiery steed beneath me! He reared and kicked and plunged, indeed, but I accommodated myself to his motions with ease; we understood each other in five minutes; and in half-an-hour my conquest was complete forever. So did I do that day, but at a fearful risk to life and limb, to half-a-dozen other horses. The dealer was intensely pleased, and offered me twenty pounds or my pick of all his stud if I would break for him for a week. I chose a horse for the express purpose of demonstrating my veterinary skill, rejecting this and that for great or little blemishes, and fixing at last on the very best. Finally, I returned him his gift, observing, No, I want per- manent employment, and something to keep a horse with, before I accept ~one. Without so much haggling by nine-tenths as would have happened upon the like matter in Eng- land, I undertook an engagement with this man from that day. I was to be rough- rider, farmer, and purchaser, or rather agent, in one. He was to find the money, 31 32 and I was to receive twelve per cent. of the profits. Formany successive weeks, and even months, did Mr. Charles Wroughton (for 1 kept my name) exhibit himself upon several scores of steeds, in turn, at the Tattersalls of Syd- ney; and with such success that the whole stock of the dealer was sold off at very re- munerating prices. I received for my share of the transaction alone about two hundred and twenty pounds. I did not in my pros- perity forget what I owed my bushman friend; but rejected his advice that I should go to the plains, and purchase stock on my own account, without the intervention of a third party. I reflected that one part of the business only I was certain of namely, my judgment of the merits of the cattle them- selves; but, of driving whole herds of them, of bargaining with honest stockmen, or of combating with marauding bushrangers, I knew nothing. For more than two years, then, I contin- ued with the horse-dealer; first as his as- sistant, and latterly as his partner, taking, however, any well-paid engagements to break individual horses that offered themselves dur- ing that time. And after that, I set up in business for myself. I soon bought whole droves of horses, and did a great trade. I dare say it was very unspeculative of me I dare say it was the height of absurdity, after having got so far that I did not try my luck up the hills or in the gold country; but I was collecting nuggets fast enough in my own way, and I confess to having no higher desire than that of growing rich. For England, where I had experienced so much unhappiness, I had the most passionate longing. To return, to resume my old posi- tion as a gentleman among the best of those I had known at college, or to make new friends, was my darling scheme. Although I have not set down the slights and insults I had often met with, and the fears that had beset me during my penury, I had suffered from them bitterly at an age and with a dis- position that bore them very ill; and I was eager to revisit the scenes of my wretchedness in a better plight. I know it was but a sorry ambition, but I am not a philosopher, nor indeed a wise man of any kind: how should it be expected of a mere mauvias sujet and fast man like me? Never, however, shall I cease to be thankful for so much of fastness as prompted me to follow the drag upon the most spirited h& rses I could get at St. Wini- freds; for that part of my university educa- tion had been useful to me indeed. When house and land were gone and spent, horse- breaking was most excellent. A circumstance, slight in itself, which oc- curred after I had been about five years my THE%CAPEGRACE. own master, determined me still more upon leaving the colony as soon as I had made a sufficient fortune. A man came to my office one day to apply for a grooms place, who had been a servant of my fathers and of my half-brother Roberts. Jem had been sent away (I dare say for no good, but I was quite ready to think it a hard case), and had come over to Sydney, as I had done, to try his luck. Seeing my name about the streets, he had applied to me in the hope that I mighl turn out to be his young master, Charlie. I engaged him, of course, at once, and asked him all manner of qu ~ons about the old house and its inmates. ~ Miss Susan had quarrel 4 with her brother, and lived elsewhere. Mr Robert, who had now no cure of souls, saw deal of company, male and female, and there had been talk of his going to be married at one tiit ~, but nothing came of it. In answer to my inquiry, of whether he spoke of me at all? Jem said: Yes; he often does at dinner-time, while I s waiting at table. You goes by a queer name, which I cant mind now; but it means a black sheep. A mauvais sujet? I suggested. Ah, that s it. Yes; you be a mauvay sujay, now, among the gentlefolks. Whether it was my college education, or my connection with the bill-discounter, or my relationship to Robert, or my intercourse with stable-grooms, which prompted me to use such ar~ expression, I cannot tell, but I said: Curse the gentlefolks! and bade Jem go to his work. I was determined to show them I was not what they were pleased to call me. In a few days I had well disposed of my stock in hand, and of the goodwill of my ex- cellent business; and upon reckoning all savings from the hour I set foot in Sydney seven years before, I found myself possessor of twenty thousand pounds. I am not exag- gerating it by one shilling; and I doubt not that, if I had remained there until now, my yearly profits would have averaged about five thousand pounds. But I had enough and to spare as it was, and took my passage in a first-class steamer for Great Britain, with as light a heart as a man might carry, and with but seven-and-twenty years upon my back. The contrast between this voyage and the last was agreeable enough; but niy arrival at Southampton quite brought tears of grati- tude into my eyes. I was alone as before, and occupied the very same room in the very same hotel that I had slept in previous to my emigration; but in the sight of the world (and I fear in my own sight also) I was a thousand times the better man. My aston THE SCAPEGlIACE. ishing success at Sydney had of course been much magnified, so that 1 had been a star amongst my fellow-passengers; yet I was scarcely prepared to see in the arrivals of the next mornings paper, that the great colo- nial capitalist, Charles Wroughton, Esquire, had returned, after a short absence, to his native land; but so it was. I took a small well-furnished house in Lon- don and found no difficulty in getting nice people to come to it. I made myself real and sterling friends: not because I was richer now than before, but because I had opportu- nities of making frj~ids, which before could not exist. Upon ~osonial matters, I am con- sidered so high ai~ uthority that I have been more than once mnsulted by the govern- ment; and of private applications from the families of young men about to emigrate I have d absolutely scores. They generally set forth that the youths know several lan- guages (especially dead ones), have the gift of teaching, and play excellently upon the cornet-is-pistons; or sometimes, holding the popular o;inion of eminrant virtues, they warrant them able to turn their hand to anything and with a taste for mechanics. But my invariable reply to all is, Can he ride? I hope, however, that I do not shrink from 33 assisting all I can ; that I have not forgotten my own hopeless condition only a few years back; and that, especially, when I come across a poor mauvais sujet I give him a helping hand. As for such an expression being applied to myself, May Fair would rise as one man (and woman) in arms against it. If there is a title that becomes me more than another it is from the haunts of busi- ness, a steady young fellow, or from the drawing-rooms, an eligible young man. Nay, to show what a change my reformation (?) has made even in my enemies, I possess this (unanswered) letter: DEAR CHARLES, I am delighted to hear of your great success in the colonies and of your safe return to England. We, down in Berkshire, always prophesied as much, from our knowledge of your determination and shrewdness ; when- ever you shall think proper to come home again, you will find a 1, arty welcome from many an old friend, and especially from Your affectionate brother, ROBERT WROUOHTON. I should not be at all surprised if the reverend gentleman were to leave all his money especially if I dont go to see him to the skittle-playing, school-expelled, ex- travagant scapegrace, to whom his letter was addressed. THE SCREW BAYONET. The third volume of Mr. Macaulays History of England con- tains, at page 371, the following passage: The immediate cause of his defeat was the difficulty of fixing bayonets. The fireloek of the llighlander was quite distinct from the weapon which he used in close fight. lie discharged his shot, threw away his gun, and fell on with his sword. This was the work of a moment. It teok the re ular musketeer two or three minutes to alter his missile weapon into a weapon with which be could eucounter an enemy hand to hand, and during these two or three minutes the event of the battle of Killiecrankie had been decided. Macky therefore ordered all his bayonets to be so formed that they might be screwed into the barrel without stopping it up, and that his men might be able to receive a charge the very instant after firing. A foot-note refers to Mackys e oirs, which I have no opportunity of consulting; but as the statement seems to me, for reasons I will mention, a somewhat doubtful one, I write in the hope thht some of your correspondents may nexix. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiii. 3 be able to give some additional information on the subject. The introduction of the screw bayonet I have always understood took place at a later date, by some ten or twelve years, than the year 1689; and I remember to have heard, or read, that it began in the Fr9nch army, and that in one of Marlboroughs battles, an English regiment, advancing with fixed bayonets against a French one similarly prepared to receive them, were astounded by the, to them, incomprehensible phenopaenon of a volley of musketry. One piece of evidence decidedly militating against the in- vention of the screw bayonet in 1689, I possess, in the sh~ pe of a treatise on L./lrt .Miilitaire, published at Augsburg, in 1699 (and formerly, as appears by a book-plate, the property of the father of the Schulenberg Duchess of Kendal), in which the plate illustrating Fix Bayonets, depicts a soldier evidently using the plug- bayonet, to which variety of the instrument only the description appended could apply. I hope, however, to elicit some communication on the subject from those better informe I than my self. W. K. R. B. Notes and Queries. 34 From The Examiner. Recollections of the Tal,le-Talk of Samuel Rogers. To which is added Porsoniana. Moxon. RATHER an enjoyer and repeater than a sayer of good things, Mr. Rogers claim to be the hero of such a book as this consists mainly in the fact of his recollection and appreciation of the talk he had heard during a life which far outlasted the ordinary term. For nothing is the volume before us more remarkable than for its links of pleasant memory connecting two or three generations of the wits, and its editor may bear perhaps to have it also said that sometimes the char- acter of age appears in other forms in its anecdotes. But the book is full of interest and entertainment; and it will surprise those who were best acquainted with Mr. Rogers that so much of the talk habitual to him, with its peculiar turns and niceties of phrase, should have been preserved. The inference will strike every reader that the reporter must himself be a scholar, and, in a very large degree, a man of kindred knowledge, sympathies, and taste. The work presents indeed many other evidences of this, and the editorial notes are not the least interesting part of it. What Rogers says in the volume of him- self and of his own experience is always val- uable. I was engaged, he says, on the Pleasures of Memory for nine years; on Hu- man Life for nearly the same space of tirhe; and Italy was not completed in less than sixteen years. Of the sensitive taste which prompted this extreme care in the polish of his own verse, much evidence is also given. Nor is the collection less to be oommended for the fairness with which it shows, in re- yard to that fine taste of Mr. Rogers which was undoubtedly his principal accomplish- ment, how comparatively limited the circle ~was which bounded its perfection. Consid- ring the Colosseum in the Regents Park as liner than anything among the remains of ancient architectural art in Italy, it fails to preciate the vigorous verse of Churchill, which is, to my thinking, but mediocre, ~tnl cannot relish Shakspeares sonnets. A eheice and delicate appreciation of pictures was on the whole the most faultless trait in ~Mr~ Rogers mind, and here all the personal memoranda of the book are valuable. On ~ther points, the mere personal interest of it sayings has been occasionally perhaps a little o er-calculated by the editor. Things that, ~when said, were doubtless well said, and therefore striking, but which in concep- tion are not above the level of very ordinary talk, occur in the book too frequently. Strangers might thus derive, from accidental ROGERS TABLE-TALK. quotation, but a poor impression of its real flavor. A man who attempts to read all the new publications, must often do as a flea does skip, may stand as a specimen of a class of remarks which surely, however pleasant and innocent as part of common talk, were not worth making note of among memorable sayin~,s. There is a great deal, however, of admirable matter, more indeed than at a first hasty reading may find the attention it deserves. There are, of course, stretching back over so long a life, strange recollections. Of having seen a black bottle of English porter set on a French dinner-table and drank out of little glasses as a rarity. Of running about the fields, chasing butterflies, in cocked hats. Of Mr. Fox and Mr. Dundas drinking seven bottles at a sitting. Of having seen Haydn play at a concert in a tie-wig with a sword at his side. Of having gone to Ranelagh in a coach with a lady, who, on account of the tallness of her head-dress, was obliged to sit on a stool placed in the bottom of the coach. Or of a scene like this: When I was a lad, I recollect seeing a whole cartful of young girls, in dresses of various colors, on their way to be executed at Tyburn. They had all been condemned, on one indict- ment, for having been concerned in (that is, perhaps, for having been spectators of) the burn- ing of some houses during Lord George Gordons riots. It was quite horrible. Greville was present at one of the trials consequent on those riots, and heard several boys sentenced, to their own excessive amazement, to be hanged. Never, said Greville, with great naiveti, did I see boys cry so. Here speaks the poet and the man of taste: You remember the passage in King Lear, a passage which Mrs. Siddons said that she never could read without shedding tears, Do not laugh at me; For, as I am a man, I think this lady To be my child Cordelia. Something of the same kind happened in my own family. A gentleman, a near relation of mine, was on his death-bed, and his intellect much im- paired, when his daughter, whom he bad not seen for a considerable time, entered the room. He looked at her with the greatest earnestness, and then exclaimed, I think I should know this lady: but his recognition went no further. A recollection of the burnt Memoirs of Byron: If Moore had made me his confidant in the business, I should have protested warmly against the destruction of the .Afemoirs : but he chose Luttrell, probably because he thought him the more fashionable man; and Luttrell, who cared nothing about the matter, readily voted that they should be put into the fire. There were, I ROGERS TABLE-TALK. understand, some gross things in that manu- script; but I read only a portion of it, and did no~light upon them. I remember that it con- tained this anecdote : On his marriage-night, Byron suddenly started out of his first sleep : a taper, which burned in the room, was casting a ruddy glare through the crimson curtains of the bed; and he could not help exclaiming, in a voice so loud that he wakened Lady B., Good God, I am surely in hell! A recollection of Murat at Naples illus- trates amusingly the soldiers way of being extremely civil to the poet: By the by, Murat and his Queen were ex- tremely civil to me. The Queen once talked to me about The Pleasures of Memory. I often met Murat when he was on horseback, and he would invariably call out to me, rising in his stirrups, 116 bien, Monsieur, dtes-vous inspir6 aujourdhui? A remark made to Mr. Rogers by the Duke of Wellington, concerning Bonaparte, illus- trates those passages in the lately published letters of Napoleon to Joseph, in which he is found constantly urging as a postulate in war that separate corps of troops should be so handled that they may be brought together into a mass promptly and easily: Speaking to me of Bonaparte, the Duke of Wellington remarked, that in one respect he was superior to all the generals who had ever existed. Was it, I asked, in the management and skilful arrangement of his troops? No, answered the Duke; it was in his power of concentrating such vast masses of men, a most important point in the art of war. We add two other notes concerning the Great Duke: Of the Dukes perfect coolness on the most trying occasions, Colonel Gurwood gave me this instance. He was once in great danger of being drowned at sea. It was bed-time, when the cap- tain of the vessel came to him, and said, It will soon be all over with us. Very well, an- swered the Duke, then I shall not take off my hoots. Some years ago, walking with the Duke in Hyde Park, I observed, What a powerful band Lord John Russell will have to contend with! there s Peel, Lord Stanley, Sir James Graham, & c. The Duke interrupted me by saying, Lord John Russell is a host in himself. To the recollection of Wellington let us add one of Nelson. I have seen him! said Mr. Rogers, spin a teetotum with his one hand a whole evening for the amusement of some children. How arbitrary are some canons of taste! We know some whom balc5ny might be apt to make sick: It is curious how fashion changes pronunci- ation. In my youth everybody said Lonnon, not Lundon: Fox said Lonnon to the last and so did Crowe. The now fashionable pro- nunciation of several words is to me at least very offensive: c6ntemplate is bad enough ; but balci5ny makes me sick. This of Erskine is not bad: To all letters soliciting his subscription to anything, Erskine had a regular form of reply, viz., Sir, I feel much honored by your applica- tion to me, and I beg to subscribe here the reader had to turn over the leaf myself your very obedient servant, & c. Another is excellent: When Lord Erskine heard that somebody had died worth two hundred thousand pounds, he observed, Well, that s a very pretty sum to begin the next world with. Here is a pleasant bit of conversational criticism, perfect of its kind as conversation, and representing the kind of talk from which all who were admitted to Mr. Rogers table derived knowledge as well as entertainment. John Hunter believed that when there was only one daughter and several sons in a family, the daughter was always of a masculine disposi- tion; and that when a family consisted of sev- eral daughters and only one son, the son was I- ways effeminate. Payne Knight used to say that Homer seems to have entertained the same idea; for in the Iliad we find that Dolon, who proves to be such a coward, was an only son, and had several sisters. There was one Dolon in the camp of Troy, Son of Eumedes, herald of the gods, Who with five daughters had no son beside. We add a little string of anecdotes: Monk Lewis was a great favorite at Oat- lands. One day after dinner, as the Duchess was leaving the room, she whispered something into Lewis ear. He was much affected, his eyes filling with tears. We asked what was the matter. 0, replied Lewis, the Duchess spoke so very kindly to me! My dear fellow, said Colonel Armstrong, pray dont cry I dare say she did nt mean it. Topham Beauclerk (Johnsons friend) was a strangely absent person. One day he had a party coming to dinner; and, just before their arrival, he went up stairs to change his dress. lie forgot all about them; thought that it was bed-time, pulled off his clothes and got into bed. A servant, who presently entered the room to tell him that his guests were waiting for him, found him fast asleep. Dunning (afterwards Lord Ashburton) was stating the law to a jury at Guildhall, whea Lord Mansfield interrupted him by saying, If that be law, I 11 go home and burn my books. My Lord, replied Dunning, you had better go home and read them. Combe recollected having seen Mrs. Sid- dons, when a very young woman, standing by the side of her fathers stage, and knocking a pair ROGERS TABLE-TALK. of snuffers against a candlestick, to imit te the sound of a windmill, during the representation of some Harlequin piece. One morning when I was a lad, Wilkes came into our banking-house to solicit my fathers vote. My father happened to be out, and I, as his representative, spoke to Wilkes. At parting, Wilkes shook hands with me; and I felt proud of it for a week after. He was quite as ugly, and squinted as much, as his portraits make him; but he was very gentlemanly in appearance and manners. I think I see him at this moment, walking through the crowded streets of the City, as Chamberlain, on his way to Guildhall, in a scarlet coat, mili- tary boots, and a bag-wig, the hackney-coach- man in vain calling out to him, A coach, your honor? Humphrey Howarth, the surgeon, was called out, and made his appearance in the field stark naked, to the astonishment of the challenger, who asked him what he meant. I know, said H., that if any part of the clothing is carried into the body by a gunshot wound, festering ensues; and therefore I have met you thus. His antagonist declared that fighting with a man in puns naturalibus would be quite ridiculous; and accordingly they parted without further discussion. Lord Alvanley, on returning home after his duel with young OConnel, gave a guinea to the hackney-coachman who had driven him out and brought him back. The man, surprised at the largeness of the sum, said, My Lord, I only took you to . Alvanley interrupted him, My friend, the guinea isfor bringing me back, not for taking me out. Lord Seaforth, who was born deaf and dumb, was to dine one day with Lord Melville. Just before the time of the companys arrival, Lady Melville sent into the drawing-room a lady of her acquaintance, who could talk with her fingers to dumb people, that she might receive Lord Seaforth. Presently Lord Guilford entered the room; and the lady, taking him for Lord Seaforth, began to ply her fingers very nimbly; Lord Guilford did the same; and they had been carrying on a conversation in this manner for about ten minutes wh~n Lady Melville joined them. Her female friend immediately said, Well, I have been talking away to this dumb man. Dumb? cried Lord Guilford; bless mc, II thought you were dumb ! I told this story (which is perfectly true) to Mathews; and he said that he could make excellent use of it at one of his evening entertainments: but I know not if ever he did. What a disgusting thing is the fagging at our great schools When Lord Holland was a school-boy he was forced, as a fag, to toast bread with his fingers for the breakfast of another boy. Lord H.s mother sent him a toasting- fork. His fagger broke it over his head, and still compelled him to prepare the toast in the old way. In consequence of this process, his fingers suffered so much that they always re- tai~ied a withered appearance. Another pleasant recollection of the Lon- don of our fathers: Visiting Lady one day, I made inquiries about her sister. She is now staying with me, answered Lady , but she is unwell in con- sequence of a fright which she got on her way from Richmond to London. At that time om- nibuses were great rarities; and while Miss was coming to town, the footman, observing an omnibus approach, and thinking that she might like to see it, suddenly called in at the carriage- window, Maam, the omnibus! Miss , being unacquainted with the term, and not sure but an omnibus might be a wild beast escaped from the Zoological Gardens, was thrown into a dreadful state of agitation by the announce- ment. This story is very perfect: A friend of mine in Portland Place has a wife who inflicts upon him every season two or three immense evening parties. At one of those parties he was standing in a very forlorn con- dition, leaning against the chimney-piece, when a gentleman, coming up to him, said, Sir, as neither of us is acquainted with any of the people here, I think we had best go home. We suppose the following suggestion has been made before, it is at once so true and so obvious; but we do not remember it: Did ever poet, dramatist, or novel-writer, devise a more effective incident than the falling of the rug in Molly Seagrims bedroom? Can anything be more happily ludicrous, when we consider how the actors in that scene are con- nected with each other? It probably suggested to Sheridan the falling of the screen in The School for Scandal. We close the miscellany of brief extracts with some sayings of Sydney Smith, not to be found recorded, we think, in his Memoirs: He said that was so fond of contradic- tion, that he would throw up the window in the middle of the night, and contradict the watch- man who was calling the hour. When his physician advised him to take a walk upon an empty stomach, Smith asked, Upon whose? Lady Cork, said Smith, was once so moved by a charity sermon, that she begged me to lend her a guinea for her contribution. I did so. She never repaid me, and spent it on her- self. He said that his idea of heaven was eating fois gras to the sound of trumpets. I had a very odd dream last night, said he; I dreamed that there were thirty-nine Muses and nine Articles; and my head is still quite confused about them. Appended to the recollections of the table- talk of Rogers are some anecdotes of Porson, 1~Oc1I~RS TABLE-4ALff. communicated to the editor by Mr. Rogers old friend, Mr. Maltby, who succeeded Por- son at the London institution, and died there about two years since at the age of ninety. There is always robust energy and power, though as invariably maimed by his dreadful and irremediable besetting vice, manifested in all the traits recorded of the character of this great scholar. lie combined so strangely in himsolf the striking features of the wor- thies of the sixteenth and the eighteenth cen- tury, that a strong interest attaches to all records of his life, and in these Porsoniana we have glimpses of it full of biographical significance. We doubt if any illustration so valuable has ever before been given of the greatest of English Grecians, and most heartily is the editor (himself a most accom- plished classical scholar) to be thanked for it. Observe how admirable are many of the things we quote: He was generally ill-dressed and dirty. But I never saw him such a figure as he was one day at Leigh and Southebys auction-room : he evi- dently had been rolling in the kennel; and, on inquiry, I found that he was just come from a 1arty (at Robert ileatheotes, II believe), with whom he had been sitting up drinking for two nights. One forenoon I met Porson in Covent Gar- den, dressed in a pea-green coat : he had been married that morning, as I afterwards learned from Raine, for he himself said nothing about it. He was carrying a copy of Le .Moyen de Parvenir, which he had just purchased off a stall; and, holding it up, he called out jokingly, These are the sort of books to buy! At one time he had some thoughts of taking orders, and studied divinity for a year or two. But, said he, I found that I should require about fifty years reading to make myself thoroughly acquainted with it, to satisfy my mind on all points; and, therefore, I gave it up. There are fellows who go into a pulpit assuming everything, and knowing nothing: but I would not do so. He said that every man ought to marry once. I observed that every man could not afford to maintain a family. 0, replied he, pap is cheap. He insisted that all men are born with abil- ities nearly equal. Any one, he would say, might become quite as good a critic as I am, if he would only take the trouble to make him- self so. I have made myself what I am by in- tense labor : so aetimes, in order to impress a thing upon my memory, I have read it a dozen times, and transcribed it six., Tooke used to say that Porson would drink ink rather than not drink at all. Indeed, he would drink anything. He was sitting with a gentleman, after dinner, in the chambers of a mutual friend, a Templar, who was then ill and confined to bed. A servant came into the room, sent thither by his master for a bottle of em- brocation which was on the chimney-piece. I drank it an hour ago, said Porson. XVhen Hoppner the painter was residing in a cottage a few miles from London, Porson, one afternoon, unexpectedly arrived there. Hoppner said that he could not offer him dinner, as Mrs. H. had gone to town, and had carried with her the key of the closet which contained the wine. Porson, however, declared that he would be con- tent with a mutton-chop and beer from the next ale-house; and accordingly stayed to dine. Dur- ing the evening Porson said, I am quite certain that Mrs. Hoppner keeps some nice bottle, for her private drinking, in her own bedroom; so, pray, try if you can lay your hands on it. His host assured him that Mrs. H. had no such se- cret stores; but Porson insisted that a search should be made, a bottle was at last discovered in the ladys apartment, to the surprise of Hopp- ner, and the joy of Porson, who soon finished its contents, pronouncing it to be the best gin he had tasted for a long time. Next day Hoppner, somewhat out of temper, informed his wife that Porson had drunk every drop of her concealed dram. Drank every drop of it! cried she: it was spirits of wine for the lamp! Porson was passionately fond of Swifts Tale of a Tub, and whenever he saw a copy of it on a stall, lie would purchase it. He could repeat by heart a quantity of Swifts verses. He was fond of Footes plays, and would often recite scenes from them. In the next anecdote a fine trait is revealed. Aristophanes, we need scarcely remind the reader, was Porsons choicest study: When Porson first met Perry after the fire in the house of the latter at Merton, lie immedi- ately inquired if any lives had been lost? Per- ry replied No. Well, said Porson, then I shall not complain, though L have lost the labors oi my life. His transcript of the Cambridge Photius, which was burnt in that fire, he after- wards replaced by patiently making a second transcript; but his numerous notes on Aristo- phanes, which had also been consumed, were ir- recoverably gone. There is a touch of nobleness in this also: Banks once invited Porson (about a year be- fore his death) to dine with him at an hotel at the west end of London; but the dinner passed away without the expected guest having made his appearance. Afterwards, on Banks asking him why he had not kept his engagement, Por- son replied (without entering into further par- ticulars) that he had come: and Banks could only conjecture that the waiters, seeing Porsons shabby dress, and not knowing who he was, had offered him some insult, which had made him indignantly return home. And more than a touch in this: When asked why he had written so little, Porson replied, I doubt if I could produce any original work which would command the atten- tion of posterity. I can be known only by my ROGERS TABLE-TALK. notes: and I am quite satisfied if, three hundred years hence, it shall be said that one Porson lived towards the close of the eighteenth cen- tury, who did a good deal for the text of Eurip- ides. Let us not forget to add that Porson, first of our Greek scholars as he was, was a great reader of translations, and never wrote a note on any passage of an ancient author without first carefully looking how it had been rendered by the different translators. It is worth specially recording, too, that, af- ter all his experience of men a~d things, Mr. Rogers, himself so admirable a judge of the observant qualities in those he came in con- tact with, declared that Sir James Mackin- tosh, Malthus, and Bobus Smith, were the three acutest men he had ever known. From The Spectator. THE Nestorian age of Samuel Rogers con- nected him familiarly with two generations; his reminiscences extended to a time so re- mote that it has ceased to be even traditional save to very old people. His whilom literary repute, the idea of respectability connected with the title of banker-poet, his re- cherchi mode of living, and equally perhaps with the rest his reputation for talking epi- grammatically and writing epigrams, enabled him to associate with a very varied and dis- tinguished society. The familiar conversa- tion of such a man could not be other than interesting from its range and fulness of sub- jects. And on these two points the volume of Recollections will not disappoint the reader. He will be carried back to the days ofRanelagh, highwaymen, hoops, and swords. He will catch glimpses of men who were born before the house of Brunswick ruled in Brit- ain, and he introduced to the once celebrated poet Mr. ilayley, as well as to Adam Smith and others of that ~ra. The celebrities of the last sixty years meet him in almost every page; Fox, Burke, Sheridan, Windham, Pitt, Dundas, Wilberforce, and lesser names, in politics; in the literature of that genera- tion, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Mackintosh, Byron, Moore, Scott, and Campbell, the last, we think, surveyd with scornful yet with jealous eyes. Among the well-known fashionables, are the Prince of Wales in his prime, the Duchess of Devonshire, and Lady Jersey of the scandalous chronicle, with whom Rogers was very intimate. Among the distinguished of our own day, or belong- ing to two generations, are Wellington, Brougham, Sydney Smith, the Lady Holland and her Lord, Chantrey, and various others. Such names, even when the notice is trivial or the story not particularly poitited (hoth of which are too often the case), excite atten tion, while the brevity of anecdote or remark prevents weariness. The volume, however, may disappoint those whose expectations have been much raised by a name. Great felicity of expression can sel- dom be preserved, even should it occur in conversation, from the difficulties under which it must be reported. Table-talk must mainly consist of facts or thoughts. Rogers thoughts do not seem to have been very profound. The banker-poet had looked on life without drawing many lessons from it, or hiving wisdom with each studious year. He was of the world, worldly. Even when he has a thought, it generally has a direct bearing upon himself; as in these on making up quarrels, and old age: When people have had misunderstandings with each other, and are anxious to be again on good terms, they ought never to make attempts at reconciliation by means of letters; they should see each other. Sir Walter Scott quarrelled with Lady Roslin, in consequence, I believe, of some expressions he had used about Fox. If Scott, said she, instead of writing to me on the sub- ject, had only paid me a visit, I must have for- given him. There had been for some time a coolness be- tween Lord Durham and myself; and I was not a little annoyed to find that I was to sit next him at one of the Royal Academy dinners: I re- quested the stewards to change my place at the table; but was too late to make any alteration. We sat down. Lord Durham took no notice of me. At last I said to him, Will your Lordship do me the honor of drinking a glass of wine with me? He answered, Certainly, on condition that you will come and dine with me soon. * s * * * One afternoon, at Court, I was standing be- side two intimate acquaintances of mine, an old nobleman and a middle-aged lady of rank, when the former remarked to the latter that he thought a certain young lady near us was uncommonly beautiful. The middle-aged lady replied, I cannot see any particular beauty in her. Ah, madam, he rejoined, to us old men youth al- ways appears beautiful; (a speech with which Wordsworth, when 1 repeated it to him, was greatly struck.) The fact is, till we are about to leave the world, we do not perceive how much it contains to excite our interest and admiration: the sunsets appear to me far lovelier now than they were in other years; and the bee upon the flower is now an object of curiosity to me, which it was not in my early days. Remarks on literature occur, but they are not very striking, having the spirit of the grammarian rather than the critic. Quota- tions from obscure writers to whom Rogers referred in illustration of an opinion might as well have been spared. Some of the facts, though new when Rogers mentioned them, have become common property. His good 38 ROGERS TABLE-TALK. stories are occasionally Joe Millers. Thus, he ascribes to Dr. Fordyce the exclamation, Drunk, by ! when no effort could extract a symptom from the ladys pulse, but the character of the physician was saved by the patient next day pleading guilty to the imputation: the story is as old at all events as Radcliffe, to whose habits and language it is more appropriate. Now and then Rogers seems to report errors of fact. In early youth he was in the company of General Oglethorpe Popes O~lethorpe who said that he had shot snipes in Conduit Street. This seems scarcely credible, from the manner in which the site of Conduit Street must have been surrounded by buildings. Old Bond Street was commenced in 1686; Golden Square was built soon afterwards Boling- broke resided there in 1704; Cavendish Square was begun in 1717; Hanover Square and Great George Street in 1718; Berkeley Square in 1698, the year of Oglethorpes birth. No doubt, in the then state of the country as regards traffic and cultivation, birds were more numerous and would ap- proach nearer to towns than they do now: within this century snipes have been shot, or at least sportsmen have gone snipe-shooting, where the Colosseum is now built, which was then a marsh: but there were no houses round the spot. The site of Conduit Street even when Oglethorpe was in his teens could scarcely have harbored snipe. Perhaps most of the miscellaneous anec- dotes are more interesting from the names attached to them than valuable for their in- trinsic character. The two men who do not open their mouths without saying something are Sydney Smith and the Duke of Welling- ton. Here is the Duke: I have found, said the Duke, that raw troops, however inferior to the old ones in ma- nceuvering, are far superior to them in down- right hard fighting with the enemy: at Water- loo, the young Ensigns and Lieutenants, who had never before seen a battle, rushed to meet death as if they had been playing at cricket. The Duke thinks very bi~hly of Napiers His- tory; its only fault, he says, is that Napier is somet~nes apt to convince himself that a thing must be true, because he wishes to believe it. Of Southeys History he merely said, I dont think much of it. Here are some of Sydneys: At one time, when I gave a dinner, I used to have candles placed all round the dining- room, and high up, in order to show off the pic- tures. I asked Smith how he liked that plan. Not at all, he replied: above there is a blaze of light, and below nothing but darkness and gnashing of teeth. Smith said, The Bishop of- is so like Judas, that I now firmly believe in the Apostoli- cal Succession. The editor has affixed to the table-talk of Rogers, under the title of Porsoniana, a variety of anecdotes of the great Grecian. They were communicated to him by Mr. Maitby, a friend of Rogers and a very inti- mate friend of Porson. Maitby was origin- ally a solicitor; but, being devoted to liter- ature, though he never wrote anything, so that his stores of knowledge were wasted, he gave up his business to succeed his friend in the office of Librarian at the London Insti- tution. The anecdotes of Porson which are here preserved present a picture of the man in his intemperance, his learning, his racy strength of native genius which his learning never oppressed, and, let it be said to his honor, in his independence of character independent alike of rank or fashion. We conceive the Porsoniana to have quite as much substantial interest as the Table-talk would have if it were considerably curtailed. Home Tooke was well acquainted with Rogers, Maitby, and Porson. lie gives two singular illustrations of the bibacious capac- ity of Porson; which, strange as they look, are confirmed by some stories of Rogers. Porson would sit up drinking all night, without seeming to feel any bad effects froni it. Home Tooke told me that he once asked Porson to dine with him in Richmond Buildings; and, as he knew that Porson had not been in bed for the three preceding nights, he expected to get rid of him at a tolerably early hour. Person, however, kept Tooke up the whole night; and in the morning the latter, in perfect despair, said, Mr. Person, I am engaged to meet a friend at breakfast at a coffee-house in Leicester Square. 0 ! replied Person, I will go with you; and he accordingly did so. Soon after they had reached the coffee-house, Tooke contrived to slip out, and running home, ordered his servant not to let Mr. Porson in, even if lie should attempt to batter down the door. A man, observed Tooke, who could sit up four nights successively might have sat up forty. The reader of Gibbons autobiography will remember his chuckle over the wretched Tra- vis, smarting under the lash of the nierciless Porson. The historian, it seems, did not confine himself to a posthumous compli- ment: Soon after the Letters to Travis were pub-. hished, Gibbon wrote a note to Porson, request- ing the pleasure of his acquaintance. Porson accordingly called upon the great historian; who received him with all kindness and respect. In the course of conversation, Gibbon said, Mr. Porson, I feel truly indebted to you for the Let- ters to Travis; though I must think that occa- sionally, while praising me, you have mingled a 40 little acid with the sweet. If ever you should take the trouble to read my History over again, I should be much obliged and honored by any remarks on it which might suggest themselves to you. Porson was highly flattered by Gibbons having requested this interview, and loved to talk of it. He thought the Decline and Fall be- yond all comparison the greatest literary pro- duction of the eighteenth century, and was in the habit of repeating long passages from it. Yet I have heard him say that there could not be a better exercise for a schoolboy than to turn a page of it into English. When the Letters to Travis first appeared, Rennell said to me, It is just such a book as the Devil would write if he could hold a pen. There are some anecdotes of Porson as short and sharp as Rennells criticism on himself; but, leaving them for the reader of the vol- ume, we will take an instance of Porsons independent spirit: I hear, said I to Porson, that you are to dine to-day at Holland House. Who told you so? asked he. I said, Mackintosh. But I certainly shall not go, continued Porson: they invite me merely out of curiosity, and, after they have satisfied it, they would like to kick me down stairs. I then informed him that Fox was corning from St. Annes Hill to Holland House for the express purpose of being intro- duced to him : but he persisted in his resolution, and dined quietly with Rogers and myself at Ro~ers chambers in the Temple. Many years afterwards, Lord Holland mentiened to Rogers that his uncle (Fox) had been greatly disap- pointed at not meeting Person on that occasion. From The Athenamm. BEFORE the table is sold, at which so many celebrated men have gathered in our time, and their host, the aged poet, told his anec- dotes of many years, we have the poets table- talk served up in print by an active chron- icler, who, now that breakfasts are no more, sees it good to turn past pleasures to instant account. It is true that the editor of these Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers assures us that Mr. Rogers was aware of his guests habit of writing down, in all their fulness of allusion, of insinua- tion, and of scandal, the anecdotes with which his conversation abounded. But we cannot see how such knowledge can be pleaded against the offence of an immediate publica- tion. The poet may have been flattered by the idea of his conversation being recorded daily. Indeed, the chronicler tells us so broadly: Once, on my telling him that I did so, he expressed himself pleased the rather, perhaps, because he sometimes had the mortification of finding impatient listen- ers. This is characteristic of Rogers, and agrees with the story of his having adopted an acrid tone in society, not so much from ROGERS TABLE-TALK. soreness of heart as from a determination to be heard. A wise friend would have covered this weakness of the poet, at least, until his ashes were cold, not para~ded and passed it to the whole world of light readers. It is true that the editors promise of having inserted nothing which was likely to hurt the feelings of the living seems to be generally kept, though passages could be pointed out not innocent of sting to quiet persons whose complaints may find no magazine to register their suffering. There is nothing in this volume of amusing gossip and personal revelations which would not have been as acceptable to the literary public after the hatchment had been taken down. But we are sorry to s. y, the spirit of the book-maker is apparent throughout. The talk of the dead poet would not fill a volume, so that talk amusing talk, we admit about a dead scholar is thrown in at the end. What has the Porsoniana to do with the table- talk of Samuel Rogers? In justice to the Editor, we must allow that he seems to have no very clear notion. As he ingenuously says, they are inserted because they were communicated to the Editor, in convel- sation, at various times, by the late Mr. William Maltby, the school-fellow, and, throughout life, the most confidential friend of Mr. Rogers. Having said thus much in the interests or literary taste, and with a view of guarding the idea of social privacy, the destruction of which would leave us in a world without any- thing deserving the name of society, we must state that as a collection of ana, viewed with- out reference to the date of publication, the volume before us is extremely amusing and characteristic. The very first words are no- ticeable as entered up by one who was certainly not renowned for tender kind~- ness of speech to the living, or, as will he seen, of the dead, even at his own tabla~ I was taught by my mother, from my earI1~ est infancy, to be tenderly kind towards the meanest living thing; and, however people may laugh, I sometimes very carefully put a stray gnat or wasp out at the window. My friend Lord Holland, though a kind-hearted m~n, does not mind killing flies and wasps; he says, I have no feeling for insects. Then follow recollections of a head of on of the 45 rebels upon a pole at Temple Bar, a black, shapeless lump; a confession of misdemeanor at a great childrens ball, done in imitation of a feat narrated to the discredit of a boy of spirit, and his early wish to figure in a pulpit as a Dissenting Minister. Let us string together a few no- tices of London cntertainment~ in the la8t century: TLOGERS TABLE-TAIAL Before his going abroad, Garricks attrac- the daughters compositions (and a bill re~- tion had much decreased; Sir William Weller ceipted), price sixteen shillings. Pepys said that the pit was often almost empty. A morsel or two in commemoration of But, on his return to England, people were mad Sheridan will not be unwelcome, though about seeing him; and Sir George Beaumont and several others used frequently to get ad- the anecdotes are not all true: mission into the pit, before the doors were open I was present on the second day of Hastings to the public, by means of bribing the atten- trial in Westminster Hall; when Sheridan was dants, who bade them be sure, as soon as the listened to with such attention that you might crowd rushed in, to pretend to be in a great have heard a pin drop. During one of those heat, and to wipe their faces, as if they had just days Sheridan, having observed Gibbon among been struggling for entrance. ~ * At the the audience, took occasion to mention the aale of Dr. Johnsons books, I met General luminous author of The Decline and Fall. Oglethorpe, then very, very old, the flesh of his After he had finished, one of his friends re- face looking like parchment. He amused us proached him with flattering Gibbon. Why, youngsters by talking of the alterations that had what did I say of him? asked Sheridan. been made in London and of the great additions You called him the luminous author, & e~ it had received within his recollection. He said Luminous! 0, I meant voluminous. * ~ that he had shot snipes in Conduit Street! By I have seen Sheridan in company with the the by, General Fitzpatrick remembered the time famous Pamela, Madame de Genus adopted when St. James Street used to be crowded with was married at Tournay, in 1792, the carriages of the ladies and gentlemen who to Lord Edward Fitzgerald. She was lovely were walking in the Mall, the ladies with quite radiant with beauty; ~ad Sheridan either their heads in full dress, and the gentlemen was, or pretended to be, violently in love with carrying their hats under their arms. The pro- her. On one occasion I remember that he kept prietors of Ranelagh and Vauxhall used to send laboring the whole evening at a copy of verses decoy-ducks among them, that is, persons at- in French, which he intended to present to her, tired in the height of fi shion, who every now every now and then writing down a word or two and then would exclaim in a very audible tone, on a slip of paper with a pencil. The best of it What charming weather for Ranelagh or for was, that he understood French very imperfect Vauxhall! 1 5 ~ recollect when it was still ly. 5 Sheridan was in the habit of putting the fashion for gentlemen to wear swords. I by, not only all papers written by himself, but have seen Haydn play at a concert in a tie-wig, all others that came into his hands. Ogle told with a sword at his side. 5 5 I have gone to me that, after his death, he found in his desk Ranelagh in a coach with a lady who was sundry unopened letters written by his (Ogles) obliged to sit upon a stool placed in the bottom mother, who had sent them to Sheridan to be ~f the coach, the height of her head-dress not franked. * * Sheridan, Sir Walter (then allowing her to occupy the regular seat. Mr.) Scott, and Moore were one day dining with Here is a specimen of consummate ugliness, me, and Sheridan was talking in his very best like a fly embalmed in amber: ,, style, when, to my great vexation, Moore (who has that sort of restlessness which never allows Dunning was remarkably ugly. One night, him to be happy where he is) suddenly inten- while he was playing whist, at Nandos, with rupted Sheridan by exclaiming, Is nt it time Home Tooke and two others, Lord Thurlow to go to Lydia Whites? * * Sheridan had called at the door and desired the waiter to give very fine eyes, and he was not a little vain of a note to Dunning (with whom, though their them. He said to me on his death-bed, Tell politics were so different, he was very intimate). Lady Besborough that my eyes will look up to The waiter did not know Dunning by sight. the coffin-lid as brightly as ever. Take the note up stairs, said Thurlow, and deliver it to the~ ugliest man at the card-table The depreciatory quality of the traits re- to him who most resembles the knave of spades. membered and anecdotes told by Mr. Rogers The note immediately reached its destination, strikes us increasingly as we proceed. What Home Tooke used often to tell this anecdote. a string of uncomfortable passages is con~. tamed in the following recollections! Here follows a note which may be added to any future democr~ ts anatomy of Art and I once dined at Mr. Stones (at Hackney) authorship in high places. The Female with Fox, Sheridan, Talleyrand, Madame de Jockey Club contains no anecdote more Genus, Pamela, and some other celebrated pei an~using: sons of the time. A natural son of Fox, a dumb boy (who was the very image of his father, anti Whe titled ladies become authoresses or who died a few years after, when about the age composers, their friends suffer for it. Lady of fifteen), was also there, having come for the asked me to buy her book; and I replied occasion from Braidwoods Academy. To him that I would do so when I was rich enough. I Fox almost entirely confined his attention, con~~ went to a concert at Lady s, during which versing with him by the fingers, and their eyes several pieces composed by her daughter were glistened as they looked at each other. Talley performed; and early next morning, a music- rand remarked to me, how strange it was to seller arrived at my house, bringing with him dine in company with the first orator in Europe, 42 ROGERS TABLE-TALK. and only see him talk with his fingers! That Walmer. Next morning, as they were stepping day I offended Madame de Genus by praising into their carriage, the waiter said to Stothard, the Contes Moraux of Marmontel, with whom Sir, do you observe these two gentlemen? she had quarrelled violently. At a dinner-party Yes, he replied; and I know them to be Mr. where I was, Fox met Aikin. I am greatly Pitt and Mr. Dundas. Well, sir, how much pleased with your Miscellaneous Pieces, Mr. xvine do you suppose they drank last night? Aikin, said Fox (alluding to the volume written Stothard could not guess. Seven bottles, sir. partly by Aikin, and partly by his sister, Mrs. The author of Dr. Syntax is exhibited Barbauld). Aikin bowed. I particularly ad- mire, continued Fox, your essay Against under unpleasant circumstances; and the Inconsistency in our Expectations. That, disagreeable recollection is extended so as to replied Aikin, is my sisters. I like much, include Sternes Eliza resumed Fox, your essay On Monastic Insti- tutions. That, answered Aikin, is also my sisters. Fox thought it best to say no more about the book. I was present at a dinner-party given by William Smith, in Westminster, when Fox would not take the slightest notice of Home Tooke, would not look at him, nor seem to hear any of the good things lie said. It was the most painful scene of the kind I was ever wit- ness to, except what occurred at my own house, when the Duke of Wellington treated Lord Hol- land much in the same way. Here are other memorabilia concbrning Fox of a more peaceable character: Once, at Paris, talking to Fox about Le Sueurs pictures, I said that I doubted if any artist had ever excelled Le Sneur in painting white garments. Fox replied that he thou0ht Andrea Sacehi superior to Le Sucur in that re- spect. I mention this to show that Fox was not only fond of painting, but had given minute attention to it. ~ ~ He was so fond of Dry- den, that be had some idea of editing his works. It was absurd, he said, not to print the originals by Chaucer along with Drydens versions of them; and absurd in Malone to print all Dry- dens Prefices by themselves. Drydens imi- tations of Horace, he would say, are better than the originals. * * Calling upon him in Stable Yard when he happened to be ill, I found him readin, Hippocrates. On that occasion I said I wished that the new administration would put down the east wind by an Act of Parlia- ment. He replied, smiling (and waking, as it were, from one of his fits of torpor), that they would find it difficult to do that, but that they would do as much good in that as they would in anything else. The following is a curious note on the closing scene of a great career ~LadyHollandannouncedthedeathofFox her own odd manner to those relatives and intimate friends of his who were sitting in a room near his bed-chamber, and waiting to hear that he had breathed his last: she walked through the room with her apron thrown over her head. We may foil this dramatic incident by a recollection of the adversary of Fox: Stothard the painter happened to be one evening at an inn on the Kent Road, when Pitt and Dundas put up there on their way from Combe was staying at the house of Uvedale Price; and the Honorable Mr. St. John (author of Mary Queen of Seots, a very dull tragedy, in which Mrs. Siddons continued to act the heroine occasionally up to the time of her re- tirement from the stage) was there also. The latter, one morning, missed some bank-notes. Price, strongly suspecting who had taken them, mentioned the circumstance to Combe, and added, Perhaps it would be as well if you cut short your visit here. 0, certainly, replied Combe, with the greatest coolness; and allow me just to ask, whether henceforth we are to be friends or acquaintances? Acquaintances, if you please, said Price. Long after this had happened, I was passing thron a h Leicester Square with Price, when we met Combe: we both spoke to him, but from that hour he always avoided me. Combe assured me that it was with him, not with Sterne, that Eliza was in love; that he used to meet her often beside a windmill near Brighton; that he was once sur- prised in her bed-chamber, and fled through the window, leaving one of his shoes behind him; that., some days after, he encountered her as she was walking with a party on what is now the Steyne (at Brighton), and that, as she passed him, she displayed from her muff the toe of his shoe Home Tookes reputation is tarnished with some pleasant stories. Take, as example, the following: Tooke went to Italy as tutor to a young man of fortune, who was subject to fits of insanity, and who consequently would sometimes occasion much alarm at inns during the middle of the night. While residin, at Genoa, they formed an acquaintance with an Italian family of dis- tinction, by whom they were introduced to the best society of the place. Tooke attached him- self to a lady of great beauty, becoming her cavalier servente, and attending her everywhere. After some weeks, at a large evening party, he was astonished to find that the lady would not speak to him, and that the rest of the company avoided conversation with him. Now, said Tooke, what do you imagine was the cause of this? Why, they discovered that I was a Pro- testant clergyman! But I was resolved not to be brow-beaten; and I made myself so a,reeable, that, before the party broke up, we were all again on the very best terms; some of them even waited on me home, with music, in a sort of triumph! Soon after Tooke had left Genoa, ROGERS TABLE-TALK. he heard that another traveller, who was follow- ing the same route, had been assassinated. This unfortunate traveller was mistaken for Tooke, on whom, in consequence of his intrigue with the lady at Genoa, the blow had been intended to fall. Matthias, the well-known dilettante and author, is served up in choice paragraphs: There is no doubt that Matthias wrote The Pursuits of Literature; and a dull poem it is, though the notes are rather piquant. Gilbert Wakefield used to say, he was certain that Hen- nell and Glyna assisted Matthias in it; and Wakefield was well acquainted with all the three. Steevens once said to Matthias, Well, sir, since you deny the authorship of The Pursuits of Literature, I need have no hesitation in declar- ing to you that the person who wrote it is a liar and a blackguard. In one of the notes was a statement that Belee had received help from Porson in translating Alciphron. Porson ac- cordingly went to Beloc, and said, As you know that I did not help you, pray, write to Matthias and desire him to alter that note. In a subse- quent edition the note was altered. One day I asked Matthias if he wrote The Pursuits of Literature; and he answered: My dear friend, can you suppose that I am the author of that poem, when there is no mention made in it of yourself? Some time after, I happened to call on Lord Beshorough, who told me, that, as he was illustrating The Pursuits of Literature with portraits, he wanted to get one of me. Why, exclaimed I, there is no mention in it of me! He then turned to the note where I am spoken of as the banker who dreams on Parnassus. The last entry which can be given this week treats greater personages than mere commoners and poets: The Duke of York told me that Dr. Cyril Jackson most conscientiously did his duty as tutor to him and his brother, the Prince of Wales. Jackson, said theDuke, used to have a silver pencil-case in his hand while we were at our lessons; and he has frequently given us such knocks with it upon our foreheads, that the blood followed them. I have often heard the Duke relate how he and his brother George, when young men, were robbed by footpads on Hay Hill. They had dined that day at Devon- shire House, had then gone home to lay aside their court-dresses, and afterwards proceeded to a house of a certain description in the neigh- borhood of Berkeley Square. They were return- ing from it in a hackney-coach, late at night, when some footpads stopped them on Hay Hill, and carried oft their purses, watches, & c. In his earlier days the Duke of York was most ex- act in paying all his debts of honor. One night at Brookes while he was playing cards, he said to Lord Thanet, who was about to go home to bed, Lord Thanet, is our betting still to contin- iie? Yes, sir, certainly, was the reply: and next morning Lord Thanet found 1,500 left 43 for him at Brookes by the Duke. But gradually he became less particular in such matters; and at last he would quietly pocket the winnings of the night from Lord Robert Spencer, though he owed Lord Robert about 5,000. I have several times stayed at Oatlands with the Duke and Duchess of York both of them most amiable and agreeable persons. We were generally a company of about fifteen; and our being invited to re- main there another day sometimes depended on the ability of our royal host and hostess to raise sufficient money for our entertainment. We used to have all sorts of ridiculous fun as we roamed about the grounds. The Duchess kept (besides a number of dogs, for which there was a regular burial-place) a collection of monkeys, each of which had its own pole, with a house at top. One of the visitors (whose name I for- get) would single out a particular monkey, and play to it on the fiddle with such fury and per- severance that the poor animal, half-distracted, would at last take refuge in the arms of Lord Alvanley. We may glean a~,ain from these pages, the flavor of which is almost without a parallel in our recollection of similar collections. They will amuse the general public and irri- tate the select. They will certainly not tend to increase the love of survivors for the Wit whose pleasures of memory they register so freely. From The Press. THIS volume is of very slight texture. The Table-Talk consists for the most part of anecdotes and recollections, rising little, if at all, above the twaddling garrulity of old age Ex. gr.: I remember taking Beatties Minstrel down from my fathers shelves, on a fine sum- mer evening, and reading it, for the first time, with such delight! It still charms me (I mean the first book ; the second book is very in~. ferior). During my youth umbrellas were far from common. At that time every gentlemans family had one umbrella a huge thing, made of coarse cotton which used to be taken out with the carriage, and which, if there was rain, the footman held over the ladies heads, as they entered, or alighted from, the carriage. It is inexcusable in any one to write illegi- bly. When I was a schoolboy, I used to get hold of our writing-masters copies and trace them by holding them against the window hence the plain hand I now write. During my youth I used to go to the Hamp- stead Assemblies, which were frequented by a great deal of good company. There I have danced four or five minuets in one evening. A person once asserted that in a particular country the bees were as large as sheep. He was asked, How big, then, are the hives? 0, he replied, the usual size. The editor tells us that his volume containa ROGERS TABLE-TALK. only a selection from the memoranda he has by him of Rogers conversation. If he has favored us with the pick of the poets utter- ances, what must the refuse have been? To judge from this volume, Rogers could have had little capacity for original thought. There is in the book scarcely one idea justly belonging to him worth remembrance, and most of the anecdotes to be found which have any point are well known, and have been often printed as, for example, the bon-mot of the first Lord Holland on Selwyns fondness for deadly spectacles, and the story told of Charles Fox and his bond-creditor. Some persons quite destitute of the flash and play of intellect which constitute really good conversation, of natural wit and lively fancy and buoyant animal spirits, have a store of various knowled,e and pleasant anecdotes picked up in social intercourse, with which they can illustrate any topic of discourse. But the. mental collections of Rogers seem to have been as poor as his original faculties. His mind had an affinity for little things. It was no more capable of bearing matters of weight than it was of making a vigorous effort. Oddly enough, he seems to have prided himself on the costiveness of his brains. When relating an observation by Crabbe, that he limited himself to forty lines a day, Rogers said Why not, like me, limit himself to four lines? His Human Life e~igaged him, he says, for nine years, and his Italy for sixteen years. Had he not been blinded by vanity, he would have known that nothing truly great can spring from such painful and protracted effort. The incessant touching and retouching on which some per- sons insist is of doubtful value. One burst of genius such as came from Burns at his plough, is worth the toil of a life of medio- crity. What Byron produced with ease in an hour, after a night of revelry, would be ill exchanged for all that Mr. Rogers elabo- rated during his long life. Few men with any reputation for talent did less. lie re- tired from the business of his bank at an early age, and had his time to himself. But he took no part in any of the great movements of his day. His name is connected with no principle or enterprise. He loved the gossip and calumny of Whig politics, but had not ardor enough to embrace them cordially. One of his recollections is, that Fox, speak- ing of Queen Charlotte, called her that bad woman. Nelson, he says, was hated at Court They were jealous of his fame! He was willing to believe anything that came to him on the authority of his political friends, though too feeble by nature to throw his heart into their cause. The best lines he ever wrote are those which conclude (if we recollect rightly) the Pleasures of ~iemory, in which he insists on the permanence of such pleasures: ~ But can the wiles of art, the grasp of power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? The idea was evidently taken from a passage in Dryden, which, it is said, he greatly ad.. mired: IDrydens imitations of Horace, he would say, are better than the originals: how fine this is: Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own; He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have livd to- day; Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, The joys I have possessd, in spite of Fate, are mine; Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour. Elsewhere we find another instance of his plagiarism: Boddington had a wretchedly bad memory; and in order to improve it, he attended Feinal- gles lectures on the Art of Memory. Soon af- ter, somebody asked Boddington the name of the lecturer; and for his life he could not recollect it. When I was asked if I had attended the said lectures on the Art of Memory, I replied, No: I wished to learn the Art of Forget.. ting. The idea is, of course, taken from Johnson, who supposes it would be more rational to complain of being unable to forget than be- ing unable to remember. The editor supplies one of the best para- graphs in the book: Miss Lydia White (long since dead) was a lady who delighted in giving parties to as many celebrated people as she could collect. The following instance of her readiness in reply was communicated to me by my friend the Rev. W. Harness. At one of Lydia Whites small and most agreeable dinners in Park-street, the com- pany (most of them, except the hostess, being Whigs) were discussing in rather a querulous strain the desperate prospects of their party. Yes, said Sydney Smith, we are in a most deplorable condition: we must do something to help ourselves; I think we had better sacrifice a Tory virgin. This was pointedly addressed to Lydia White, who, at once catching and apply.. ing the allusion to Iphigenia, answered, I be- lieve there is nothing the Whigs would not do to raise the wind. The next paragraphs seem genuine: Burke said to Mrs. Crewe: A dull proser is more endurable than a dull joker. Gibbon took very little exercise. He had 44 ROGERS TABLTh~TALK. been staying some time with Lord Sheffield in the country; and when he was about to go away, the servants could not find his hat. Bless me, said Gibbon, I certainly left it in the hail on my arrival here. He had not stirred out of doors during the whole of the visit. Witticisms are often attributed to the wrong people. It was Lord Chesterfield, not Sheridan, who said, on occasion of a certain marriage, that Nobodys son had married Everybodys daughter. Lord Ellenborough was once about to go on the circuit, when Lady E. said that she should like to accompany him. He replied that he had no objections, provided she did not encumber the carriage with bandboxes, which were his utter abhorrence. They set off. During the first days journey, Lord Ellenborough, happening to stretch his legs, struck his feet against some- thing below the seat. He discovered that it was a bandbox. His indignation is not to be de- scribed. Up went the window, and out went the bandbox. The coachman stopped; and the footmen, thinking that the bandbox had tumbled out of the window by some extraordinary chance, were going to pick it up, when Lord Ellenborough furiously called out, Drive on! The bandbox accordingly was left by a ditch-side. Having reached the country-town where he was to offi- ciate as judge, Lord Ellenborough proceeded to array himself for his appearance in the court- house. Now, said he, where s my wig where is my wig? My lord, replied his attendant, it was thrown out of the carriage- window. Of Fox the notices are very slight. Strange that any person should have treasured up in his memory such trivial recollections of a great man as these: One morning at his own house, while speak- ing to me of his travels, Fox could not recollect the name of a particular town in Holland, and was much vexed at the treacherousness of his memory. He had a dinner party that day; and, just as he had applied the carving-knife to the sirloin, the name of the town having suddenly occurred to him, he roared out exultingly, to the astonishment of the company, Gorcum, Gor- cam V He one day pronounced himself to be a bad carver, and, when Mrs. Fox confirmed it, he said, Yes, my dear, II thought you d agree with me The following is a little better On another occasion he said that the char- acter of Macbeth was very striking and original that at first he is an object of our pity, and that he becomes gradually worse, and worse, till at last he has no virtue left except courage. This must always be the case, when, as with Macbeth, weak men become wicked. Rogers, however good-natured he might be, was certainly not a large-hearted man. By his own account he occasionally said cru4 things of or to his friends: Madame de Staiil one day said to me, How sorry I am for Campbell! his poverty so unseb. tles his mind, that he cannot write. I replied~ Why does he not take the situation of a clerk? he could then compose verses during his leisu1~e hours. This answer was reckoned very cruel both by Madame de Staid and Mackintosh: but there was really kindness as well as truth in it When literature is the sole business of life, it be. comes a drudgery : when we are able to resort to it only at certain hours, it is a charming relaxa. tion. Moore has now taken to an amusement which is very well suited to the fifth act of li~ he plays cribbage every night with Mrs~ Moore. On the resignation of Baber, chief librar!an at the British Museum, I wrote a letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, urging Carys claim to fill the vacant place. The Archbishop replied that his only reason for not giving Cary his vote was the unfortunate circumstance of Cary haw- ing been more than once, in consequence of do. mestic calamities, afflicted with temporary alien. ation of mind. I had quite forgotten this; and I immediately wrote again to the Archbishop, saying that I now agreed with him concerning Carys unfitness for the situation. I also, as delicately as I could, touched on the subject to Cary himself, tell him that the place was not suited for him. He would have shown much more feelitig by abstaining from delicate allusions to Cary on the subject. He seems to have wo~ shipped Byron at a dist~ nec, while the noble poet made no secret of his contempt for his admirer: Byron, like Sir Walter Scott, was without any feeling for the fine arts. lIe accompanied me to the Pitti Palace at Florence; but soon growing tired of looking at the pictures he sat down in a corner; and when I called out to him, What a noble Andrea del Sarto! the only ansWer I received was his muttering a passage from the Vicar of Wakefield: Upon asking how he had been taught the art of a cognoscento so very suddenly, & c. There is littleness of mind shown in the following: Neither Moore nor myself had ever seen By~. ron when it was settled that he should dine at my house to meet Moore; nor was he known by sight to Campbell, who, h~ ppening to call upon me that morning, consented to join the party. I thought it best that I alone should be in the drawing-room when Byron entered it; and Moore and Campbell accordingly withdrew. Soon after his arrival, they returned; and I introduced them to him severally, naming them as Adam named the beasts. When we sat down to dinner, I asked Byron if he would take soup? No; he ROGERS TABLE-TALK. served seats were now occupied by those who could first get into them; and I, pressing for- wards, secured one of them. Sir Joshua con- cluded the lecture by saying, wit.h great emotion, And I should desire that the last words which I should pronounce in this Academy and from this place might be the name of. Michael An- gelo. As he descended from the rostrum, Burke went up to him, took his hand, and said, The Angel ended, and in Adams ear So charming left his voice, that he awhile Thought him still speaking, still stood fixd to hear. Sir Joshua was always thinking of his art. He was one day walking with Dr. Lawrence near Baconsfield, when they met a beautiful little peasant-boy. Sir Joshua, after looking earnest- ly at the child, exclaimed, I must go home and deepen the coloring of my Infant Hercules. The boy was a good deal sun-burnt. Count dAdhemar was the original pur- chaser of Sir Joshuas .J~fuscipula. Sir Joshua, who fancied that he was bargaining for a dif- ferent and less important picture, told him that the price was fifty guineas; and on discovering the mistake allowed him to have .Jlluscipula for that sum. Fox had been anxious to possess Muscipula when it was first painted, and he bought it at the ambassadors sale for (I believe) fifty guineas. It is now at St. Annes Hill. It would fetch, in the present day, a thousand guineas. The morning of the day on which Sir Josh~ uas Puck was to be sold, Lord Farnborough and Dance the painter breakfasted with me, and we went to the sale together. When Puck was put up, it excited such admiration that there was a general clapping of hands: yet it was knocked down to me at a comparatively trifling price. I walked home from the sale, a man carrying Puck before me; and so well was the picture known, that more than one person, as they passed us in the street, called out, There it is Of Mr. Rogers early poetry, he gives these notices: ~ The first poetry I published was The Ode to Superstition, in 1786. I wrote it while I was in my teens, and afterwards touched it up. I paid down to the publisher thirty pounds to in- sure him from being a loser by it. At the end of four years, I found that he had sold about I was present when Sir Joshua Reynolds twenty copies. However, I was consoled by delivered his last lecture at the Royal Academy. reading in a critique on the Ode that I was an On entering the room, I found that a semicircle able writer, or some such expression. The of chairs, immediately in front of the pulpit, was short copy of verses entitled Captivity was reserved for persons of distinction, being la- also composed when I was a very young man. belied, Mr. Burke, Mr. Boswell, & c. & c. ; It was a favorite wit.h Hookham Frere, who said and I, with other youn~ men, was forced to sta- that it resembled a Greek epigram. tion myself a good way off. During the lecture On the publication of The Pleasures of a great crash was heard; and the company, fear- Memory, I sent a copy to Mason, who never ing that the building was about to come down, acknowledged it. I learned, however, from Gil- rushed towards the door. Presently, however, pin, and to my great satisfaction, that Mason, it appeared that there was no cause for alarm, in a letter to him, had spoken well of it; he pro- and they endeavored to resume their places; nounced it to be very different from the poetry but, in consequence of the confusion, the re- of the day. never took soup. Would he take some fish? No, he never took fish. Presently I asked if he would eat some mutton? No, he never ate mutton. I then asked if he would take a glass of wine? No, he never tasted wine. It was now necessary to inquire what he did eat and drink; and the answer was, Nothing but hard biscuits and soda-water. Unfortunately, neither hard biscuits nor soda-water were at hand; and he dined upon potatoes bruised down on his plate and drenched with vinegar. My guests stayed till very late, discussing the merits of Walter Scott and Joanna Baillie. Some days after, meeting Hobbouse, I said to him, How long will Lord Byron persevere in his present diet? He replied, Just as long as you continue to no- tice it. I did not then know, what I now know, to be a fact that Byron, after leaving my house, had gone to a club in St. James street, and eaten a hearty meat supper. Of such trivial matter the book is mainly composed. It gives us a very poor idea of Rogers faculties; and, supposing that his conversation was ordinarily as weak as these specimens of it, we can well believe the edit- ors assertion that he did not often meet with patient listeners. The anecdotes of Por- son which conclude the volume possess greater interest, and supply a graphic portrait of that learned Hottentot. From the Literary Gazette. THE story of his going to see Dr. Johnson, which Rogers often used to tell, is given; but Mr. Dyee does not add that it was to show him some of his youthful poetry. My friend Maltby and I, when we were very young men, had a strong desire to see Dr. John- son; and we determined to call upon him and introduce ourselves. We accordingly proceeded to his house in Bolt-court; and I had my hand on the knocker, when our courage failed us, and we retreated. Many years afterwards, I men- tioned this circumstance to Boswell, who said, What a pity that you did not go boldly in! he would have received you with all kindness. Another pleasing recollection is the ac- count of bein~ present at the last lecture of Sir Johsua Reynolds, at the Royal Academy. 46 ROGERS TABLE-TALK. I was engaged on The Pleasures of Mem- ory for nine years; on Human Life for near- ly the same space of time; and Italy was not completed in less than sixteen years. Gray was a chief favorite with Rogers when young, and from him he may have partly learned the value of care in composi- tion: I was a mere lad when 1\Iasons Gray was published. I read it in my young days with delight, and have done so ever since: the Letters have for me an inexpressible charm; they are as witty as Walpoles, and have, what his want, true wisdom. I used to take a pocket edition of Grays Poems with me every morning during my walks to town to my fathers banking-house, where I was a clerk, and read them by the way. I can repeat them all. In early life Rogers paid a visit to Scot- land, of which some recollections are given: The most memorable day perhaps which I ever passed was at Edinburgh a Sunday; when, after breakfasting with Rohertson, I heard him preach in the forenoon, and Blair in the afternoon, then took coffee with the Piozzis, and supped with Adam Smith. Robertsons sermon was excellent both for matter and manner of delivery. Blairs was good, hut less impressive, and his broad Scotch accent offended my ears greatly. I never saw Burns: I was within thirty miles of Dumfries when he was living there, and yet I did not go to visit him, which I have re- gretted ever since. I think his Cottars Sat- urday Night the finest pastoral in any lan- guage. At Edinburgh he first met the Piozzis, whom he afterwards saw much at Streatham. Piozzi, Rogers says, was a very handsome, gentlemanly, and amiable man, and a good husband; and that the world was most un- just, and her family foolish, for blaming Mrs. Thrale so much for her marriage. Her daughters never would see her after, and, poor woman, adds Mr. Rogers, when she was at a very great age, 1 have heard her say that she would go down upon her knees to them, if they would only be reconciled to her. As we come down to less remote times, the succession of welcome reminis- cences is so unbroken, that we can make but an arbitrary selection, few of the anecdotes requiring introduction or comment. Dr. Parr. Dr. Parr had a great deal of sensibility. When I read to him, in Lincolns Inn Fields, the account of OCoiglys death, the tears rolled down his cheeks. One day, Mackintosh having vexed him by calling OCoigly a rascal, Parr immediately rejoined, Yes, Jamie, he was a bad man, but he might have been worse; he was an Irishman, but he might have been a Scotchman; he was a priest, but he might have been a lawyer he was a republican, but he might have been an apos- tate. After their quarrel (about Gerald), Parr often spoke with much bitterness of Mackintosh: among other severe things, he said that Mack- intosh came up from Scotland with a metaphys- ical head, a cold heart, and open hands. At last they were reconciled, having met for that purpose in my house: but their old familiarity was never fully re-established. Parr was frequently very tiresome in con- versation, talking like a schoolmaster. Sheridan once said to me, When posterity read the speeches of Burke, they will hardly be able to believe that, during his lifetime, he was not considered as a first~rate speaker, not even as a second-rate one. Sheridan was a great artist: what could be more happy in expression than the last of these lines? You may see it illustrated in the Park every Sunday: Horsd in Cheapside, scarce yet the gayer spark Achieves the Sunday triumph of the Park; Scarce yet you see him, dre ding to be late, Scour the New-road and dash through Gros- venor-gate; Anxious yet timorous too his steed to show, The hack Bucephalus of Rotten-row. Careless he seems, yet, vigilantly sly, Woos the stray glance of ladies passing by; While his off-heel, insidiously aside, Provokes the caper which he seems to chide. During his last illness, the medical attend- ants, apprehending that they would be obliged to perform an operation on him, asked him if he bad ever undergone one. Never, replied Sheridan, except when sitting for my picture, or having my hair cut. Dr. Priestley.I was intimately acquainted with Dr. Priestley, and a more amiable man never lived; he was all gentleness, kindness, and humility. He was once dining with me, when some one asked him (rather rudely) how many books he had published? He replied, Many more, sir, than I should like to read. Before going to America he paid me a visit, passing a night at my house. lie left England chiefly in compliance with the wishes of his wife. YJIitford, the Historian. Mitford, the his- torian of Greece, possessed, besides his learning, a wonderful variety of accomplishments. I al- ways felt the highest respect for him. When, not long before his death, I used to meet him in the street, bent almost double, and carrying a long staff in his hand, he reminded me of a ven- erable pilgrim just come from Jerusalem. His account of the Homeric age, of the Sicilian cities, and several other parts of his history are very pleasing. Lane, of the Minerva Press. Lane made a large fortune by the immense quantity of trashy novels which he sent forth from his Mi- nerva press. I perfectly well remember the splendid carriage in which he used to ride, and ROGERS TABLE-TALK. his footmen with their cockades and gold-headed canes. Now-a-days, as soon as a novel has had its run, and is beginning to be forgotten, out comes azi edition of it as a standard novel. There was something very charming in Lady Hamiltons openness of manner. She showed me the neckeloth which Nelson had on when he died; of course, I could not help looking at it with extreme interest; and she threw her arms round my neck and kissed me. She was latterly in great want; and Lord Stowell never rested till he procured for her a small pension from government. That Nelson was hated by the Ring and Queen Charlotte because they were jealous of his fame, is a very foolish remark. There was only an awkwardness arising from the mixed feeling of desiring to honor the gal- lant commander, without affecting ignorance or approval of his discreditable political as well as social position. Wellington. The Duke says that the Lords Prayer alone is an evidence of the truth of Christianity so admirably is that prayer accommodated to all our wants. I took the Sacrament with the Duke at Strathfieldsaye, and nothing could be more striking than his unaf- fected devotion. The often told narrative of the projected duel between Moore and Jeffrey is given with anthentic details; but the affair was really not worth the fuss th~ t has been made about it, and, at this distance of time, seems simply ridiculous. The only point worthy of being told by Rogers is, that it was by means of homer and himself that the critic and poet were reconciled, and that they shook hands with each other in the garden behind his ho.use. Charles James Fox. It is quite true, as stated in sever 1 accountC of him, that Fox, when a very young man, was a prodigious dandy wearing a little odd French hat, shoes with red heels. & c. He and Lord Carlisle once trav- elled from Paris to Lyons for the express pur- pose of buying waistcoats, and during the whole journey they talked about nothing else. After losing large sums at hazard, Fox would go home not to destroy himself, as his friends sometimes feared, but to sit down quietly and Lead Greek. He once won about eight thousand pounds, and one of his bond- creditors, who soon heard of his good luck, presented himself, and asked for payment. Im- possible, sir, replied Fox, I must first dis- charge my debts of honor. The bond-creditor remonstrated. Well, sir, give me your bond. It was delivered to Fox, who tore it in pieces, and threw them into the fire. Now, sir, said Fox, my debt to you is a debt of honor, and immediately paid hini. When I became acquainted with Fox, he had given up that kind of life entirely, and resided in the most perfect sobriety and regular- ity at St. Annes Hill. There he was very happy, delighting in study, in rural occupations and rural prospects. He would break from a criticism on Porsons Euripides to look for the little pigs. Never in my life did I hear anything equal to Foxs speeches in reply, they were wonder. ful. Burke did not do himself justice as a speaker: his manner was hurried, and he always seemed to be in a passion. Pitts voice sounded as if he had worsted in his mouth. Fox once said to me that Burke was a most impracticable person, a most lh manageable colleague, that he never would support any measure, however convinced he might be in his heart of its utility, if it had been first proposed by another: and he once used these very words, After all, Burke was a damned wrong.. headed fellow, through his whole life jealous anA obstinate. I was walking through the Louvre with Fox, when he all but cut Mackintosh, passing him with a nod and a How dye do? and he gave me to understand that he bad done so be- cause he was angry at Mackintosh for having accepted a place in India from the Tories. Fitz- patrick, however, told me the real cause of Foxs anger, and it was this : Mrs. Mackintosh had not called upon Mrs. Fox, whom Fox had re- cently acknowledged as his wife. Such slight things sometimes influence the conduct of great men. Fox used to read Homer through once every year. On my asking him, Which poem had you rather have written, the Iliad or the Odys- sey? he answered, I know which I had rather read (meaning the Odyssey). He was a constant reader of Virgil, and had been so from a very early period. There is at Holland House a copy of Virgil covered with Foxs manuscript notes, written when he was a boy, and expressing the most enthusiastic ad- miration of that poet. lie said that Lear, Othello, and J%Iacbeth were the best of Shakspeares works; that the first act of Ilemlet was pre-eminent; that the Ghost in that play was quite unequalled, there was nothing like it, and that Hamlet was not mad. On another occ sio:n he said that the character of .Jtliacbeth was very striking and original, that at first he is an object of our pity, and that he becomes gradually worse and worse, till at last he has no virtue left except courage. Trotters Memoirs of Fox, though incor- rect in some particulars, is a very pleasing book. Trotter died in Ireland: he was reduced to great straits; and Mrs. Fox sent him, at different times, as much as several hundred pounds, though she could ill spare the money. How fondly the surviving friends of Fox cherished his memory! Many years after his death, I was a fdte given by the Duke of Devon~. shire at Chiswick House. Sir Robert Adair and I wandered about the apartments, up and down stairs. In which room did Fox expire? asked ROGERS TABLE-TALK. Adair. I replied, In this very room. Im- mediately Adair burst into tears with a vehe- mence of grief such as I hardly ever saw ex- hibited by a man. Some stories of William Pitt are given, but they chiefly refer to personal habits, which it is un~,enerous needlessly to dwell upon. Mr. Rogers does mention, however, the ex- tenuating fact, that Addington, Lord Sid- mouths father, ordered Pitt, when very young, to take much port wine, his health beinn so weakly, and the habit grew upon him till he could not do without the stimulus. If Rogers told no more about Pitt, his politi- cal feeling is here displayed not very honor ly. ByronByron had prodigious facility of ooinposition. He was fond of suppers; and used often to sup at my house and eat heartily (for be had then given up the hard biscuit and soda- water diet) after going home he would throw off sixty or eighty verses, which he would send to press next morning. ~ * * I went with him to see the Campo Santo at Pisa. It was shown to us by a man who had two handsome daughters. Byron told me that he had in vain paid his addresses to the elder d ughter, but that he was on the most intimate terms with the other. Probably there was not one syllable of truth in all this; for he always had the weakness of wishing to be thought much worse than lie really was. When he and Hobbouse were standing before the Parthenon, the latter said, Well, this is surely very grand. Byron replied, Very like the mansion-house. Crabbe, the PoetI have heard Crabbe describe his mingled feelings of hope and fear as he stood on London Bridge, when he first came up to town to try his fortune in the literary world. The situation of domestic chaplain in a great family is generally a miserable one: what sli~hts and mortifications attend it! Crabbe had had his share of such troubles in the Duke of Rutlands family; and I well remember that, at a London evenin~ party, where the old Duchess of Rutland was present, he had a vio- lent struggle with his feelings before he could prevail on himself to go up and pay his respects to her. PorsonWhen Porson dined with me, I med to keep him within bounds; but I frequent- ly met him at various houses where he got com- pletely drunk. He would not scruple to return to the dining-room, after the company had left it, pour into a tumbler theArops remaining in the wine-glasses, and drink off the omnium gatherum. I once took him to an evening-party at Wil DCXIX. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiii. 4 ham Spencers, where he was introduced to sev- eral women of fashion, Lady Crewe, & c., who were very anxious to see the Grecian. How do you suppose he entertained them? Chiefly by reciting an immense quantity of old forgotten Vauxhall songs. He was far from sober, and at last talked so oddly, that they all retired from him, except Lady Crewe, who boldly kept her ground. I recollect her saying to him, Mr. Porson, that joke you have borrowed from Joe Miller, and his rather angry reply, Madam, it is not in Joe Miller; you will not find it either in the preface or in the body of that work, no, nor in the index. I brought him home as far as Piccadilly, where, I am sorry to add, I left him sick in the middle of the street. When any one told Porson that he intended to publish a book, Porson would say, Remem- ber that two parties must agree on that point, you and the reader. I asked him what time it would take him to translate The Iliad literally and correctly into English prose. He answered, At least ten years.~ The Porsoniana, printed as a supplement to the Table-Talk of Rogers, were communi- cated by William Maltby, his successor as Librarian of the London Institution. Maltby held that office from 1809 till his death, in 1854, in his ninetieth year, performing the duties by deputy during the last twenty years. Porson made a very careless and inefficient librarian. The anecdotes related by Maltby give a very humiliating impres- sion of the great scholar, and confirm all that has been said of his intemperance and coarse-. ness. He was not far wrong when he said that he would be satisfied if, in after times, it would be reported that one Porson lived towards the close of the eighteenth century, who did a good deal for the text of Euripi- des. He said some good things; such as a reply to Southey, who told him his Madoc had brought him in a mere trifle, but it would be a valuable possession to his family. Madoc, said Porson, will be read when Homer and Virgil are forgotten. There is a very copious index to the Table- Talk, but some of the entries are a little dis- appointing. Thus, on turning ts Horace Walpole, we merely find that Rogers might have seen him, and Cowper, and Gibbon, but he did not. Some of the stories are very old and familiar, and need scarcely have been reprinted merely because Rogers told them. But we are unwilling to find fault with a work which is, on the whole, well done, and from which we have derived much- enteih- taLfl.mfnt. 49 50 From Chambers Journal. THE COURT-BALL. THE splendid city of St. Petersburg wore an air of unusual gayety and excitement on the morning of the 6th December 18. In the immediate neighborhood of the Winter Palace, this excitemeht and bustle of prepa- ration was manifest. Servants clad in the imperial livery were to be seen running to and fro in all directions; some assisting to lift into their places the most fragrant exotics, destined to decorate the sumptuous balls; others laden with some of the choicest flow- ers, looking gayer and more beautiful because of the contrast they presented to the dead winter-season out of doors; whilst to a third set of careful hands were intrusted the trans- port of the large light baudhoxes containing the ball-dresses of her majestys maids of honor. All these signs of preparation for the com- ing festivity belonged especially to that day; for had not the Empress Alexandrine issued her invitations, commanding those so honored as to receive them to attend her annual ball, given in celebration of his majesty the Emperor Nicholass name-day Already at daybreak some honest prayers for his health and happiness had been offered up, and some warm, heartfelt good wishes for his prosperity breathed from the twelve pris- oners for political offences pardoned and lib- erated, in honor of that occasion, from the fortress; but, indeed, though doubtless their emotions might surpass in enthusiasm and intensity those of the mass of the people, still there was pretty generally spread in those days a very warm and loyal-hearted feeling of personal attachment to the czar, which, of course, si0nalized itself on this his saints day. At noon, Nicholas reviewed his noble regi- ment of the Chevalier Guards in the Champ de Mars, taking occasion to compliment, with a few well-chosen words, his most efficient officers; on whom, also, he bestowed more tangible marks of his favor, by presenting them with medals of gold, bearing his like- ness. From thence he drove to the ice- mountains, where the young cadets were amusing themselves after partaking of a splen- did collation, provided for them by theW im- perial master. Ay, and right royal and noble did he look as he leaped from his sledge on arriving on the ground; and right glad and THE COURT-BALL. welcome rose the cheer from 200 young voices, clear and shrill in the frosty air, greeting his presence among them. Thus passed the hours of the fete-day. At ten oclock at night, the windows of the Winter Palace presented one blaze of light; and the string of carriages drawn up to de- posit the guests at the great doors, betokened that the crowning festivities of the day were about to benin. By eleven oclock, the em- peror and empress had entered the ball-room, and walked through the first Polonaise, when two very elegantly dressed ladies passed through the crowds of decorated uniforms that obstructed their progress, and made their way up to the far end of the magnificent saloons, to the dais occupied by the empress. As they will play rather an important part in this little narrative, I will describe their posi- tion in life and their personal appearance. Although of Polish extraction, the elder of the two sisters for such was their rela- tionship possessed the style of beauty most admired in Russia. She might have been about twenty-five years of age, and was fair, fresh-complexioned, and of middling stature; well formed, but with that full figure which gives promise in after-life of embonpoint. Dressed with extreme taste, and blazing with jewels, she attracted many eyes as she floated through the room. Six or seven years earlier, she had married the Prince Gagarine, a noble well known to stan~ high in favor at court, but supposed to be so exclusively occupied with his military duties as to have hut small 0y~npathy with the wife so many years younger than himself. They had no children, and the interest and amusements of the Princess Gagar- me centered in the world of gayety, where she filled a prominent place, and of which she was esteemed a most distinguished ornament. On the evening in question, her look and whole manner denoted some especial cause of pride and pleasure, and it arose from the very legitimate circumstance that it was the first occasion of her sisters appearance in the highest society of the capital; and I call this pride and pleasure legitimate, for she filled ia some degree the place of a mother to the young girl who accompanied her. It may seem strange that this evening should have been the first introduction of that sister to the court, but it was the consequence of a train of circumstances somewhat unusuaL Owing to the feeble health of their mother, TILE COURT-BALL. she had been brought up in great retirement; and it was only on the death of this lady, some time before, that the duty of finishing her education, and presenting her to the world, had devolved on the princess. For this reason, a mixed feeling of curiosity and admiration pervaded the courtly crowd, who turned to gaze on the fair young companion the princess led so triumphantly to the foot of the throne. Natalie Poleusky was barely seventeen, and presented a great hut charming contrast to her elder sister. Tall, sli~,ht, with masses of the darkest hair, glossy and beautiful, folded simply round her head in thick braids, with a snore lofty, refined, spiritual style of beauty in her features, and a more sweet and earnest expression in her dark eyes, well might she excite the envy of some, and gratify the admi- ration of others, of the gazers who turned so inquiringly towards her: and, above all, well mi0ht she justify the conscious air of undis- ~uised pleasure with which the princess pre- sented her to her imperial mistress. As to Natalie, her manner, shy, and yet dibnified, expressed in graceful contrast the gratification so youn,~ a girl must have felt in so splendid a scene, and somewhat of bewilderment at the crowd and confusion around her. As they retired from making their obeisance to their imperial hosts, the kind eyes of the empress followed them with some interest; and she smiled slightly to see how many aspi- rants pressed forward to solicit the hand of Natalie for the dance about to begin. But crc she could make a selection, the Grand- duke Alexander, the present Emperor of All the Russias, passed through the crowd, and lcd her out from the midst of the many com- petitors for the first waltz. Nor were Nata- lies triumphs destined to end here; the emperor himself congratulated the princess on her sisters rare attractions, and the em- press hinted that, on the first occasion, she would decorate her with the c1i~ffre, and ap- joint her maid of honor. Never had a ball seemed so deli~htfu1, and ever did the princess return to her home tore gratified than she did on that memorable i0ht; and, indeed, it was but the commence- tent of a series of conquests; and this might ccount for the fair Natalie refusing many rilliant and unexceptionable offers of mar- age. Possibly, young as she was, she brunk from surrendering her liberty so soon possibly she nursed some girlish dream of greater love and more faithful devotion than these courtly suitors seemed likely to bestow upon her. her sister left her undisturbed, and made no remonstrances on account of those many rejections; perhaps she did not wish so soon to relinquish the pleasure of her society, or the share of popularity that Nata- lies success reflected upon herself. In the mean time, as had been expected, the younger sister was created maid of honor to her maj- esty; and the first separation between them occurred when she went with the court to spend the summer season quietly at Peterhof, in the happy domestic circle of her imperial mistress. There, the attraction the empress had felt towards her from the very first ripened into warm interest; for during the many hours of quiet life, rendered imperative by her feeble health, Natalies beautiful voice and great musical talents contributed much to cheer and soothe her; and in the humbler occupa- tion of reading aloud, the maid of honor sp& nt many hours of most pleasurable retirement with the family of one she learned to love as a friend, while she revered and honored her as a mistress. So passed the brief bright summer-days at Peterhof. In the mean time, people began to wonder why the heir-apparent of the throne did not marry. his father more than once spoke to him seriously on the duty that lay before him, and questioned him respecting his feelings towards the various German princesses whose families alone could be honored by his choice. The grand-duke answered lightly enough, that there was plenty of time before him; and with a significant shrug of the shoulders, that made even his fathers face relax into a smile, dismissed the topic. By and by, the empress also addressed her son on the same subject, telling him openly how anxious she felt about it. He answered her as he had done his father; but it is not so easy to deceive a mothers eye; she well knew this assumed indifference veiled some deeper feeling in her sons heart. She deter- mined to watch him narrowly. Judge, then, of the mingled consternation and pain with which she became convinced her favorite Natalie was the object of his affections, and when she could not but believe that the feel- ing was warmly reciprocated. The Princess Gagarine was immediately 51 52 commanded to a private interview; wherein, to her extreme surprise, the empress, with heightened color and nervous tremhling of the voice, accosted her by demanding abruptly what she knew about her sisters audacious attachment. The princess, of course, denied all knowledge, all suspicion of the fact im- puted, and endeavored to reassure the empress by declaring that she must he mistaken; but when she was dismissed, and could question Natalie in private, she found that such was by no means the case. In vain did she argue with her that it was impossible the grand- duke should really love her; in vain represent to her that he only assumed the appearance of affection to amuse himself at her expense and urged upon her, hy every consideration of pride, of self-respect, and womanly feeling, to rouse herself from so dangerous, so fatal a delusion. To all this, Natalie only made reply by confessing the most entire faith in her lovers protestations. After a prolonged and painful discussion, the princess sought heir husbands advice upon the matter. lie took it up most seriously, and threw himself upon his sister-in-laws compassion, imploring her, for all their sakes, to combat and control her unfortunate passion; adding, If once it reach the ears of his majesty, we are all ruined. Next day the princess besought an inter- view with her majesty, which was immedi- ately granted; and throwing herself at the empress feet, she implored her to pardon what she called her guiVty negli~ence in not having foreseen such a possibility, and warned her sister against yielding to it, declaring her own and her husbands perfect innocence in other respects. Command us, madame, and how gladly and implicitly shall you be obeyed! I will watch over my unfortunate sister night and day: never shall they meet again : never shall any messages or corres- pondence pass between them; only, I entreat your majesty, keep what has transpired a se- cret from the emperor, or we are all lost. The empress, mollified by her candor and submission, promised to think over it and see her again. Three days from that time, the two sisters were on their way to Italy, as the rumor ran, to cultivate to the utmost the great musical talent of the younger lady, whch had so recommended her to her impe- rial mistress favor. In itself, this would have excited no surprise; but the downcast THE COURT-BALL. looks, ill health, and evident depression or spirits under which the grand-duke labored, gave rise to many whispered hints, that took form and shape gradually and which did not escape the eagle observation of the czar; therefore it was with more authority of man- ner than in his first discussion with his son, that he commanded him to prepare for a tour into Germany, for the express purpose of selecting his future consort. Three years passed away, and the short and brilliant reign of Natalie Polensky had been almost forgotten in the triumphs of later and more fortunate beauties; the Grand-duke Alexander had recovered his usual health and spirits, and even the likelihood of his ap- proaching nuptials with the Princess Mary of Darmstadt began to be currently reported. In the mean time, Natalie had gradually faded away like a flower transplanted to some un- congenial soil, and with the heat of the noon- day sun pouring down unsheltered upon its head. She had altered day by day, wasting and fretting away to a pale delicate spiritless girl. 11cr medical men pronounced her ill- ness to be a decline ; there seemed not so much of actual disease, as utter prostration of strength, and an overwhelming lassitude and languor, from which nothing could arouse her ; and they suggested that, as a last re- source, revisiting her native land might be beneficial, as indeed it seemed to offer the only hope of recovery. Then, for the first time, the Princess Ga- garine ventured to forward a petition to the emperor, stating her sisters case, and solicit- ing most humbly permission to return to IRussia. On the first presentation of the request, it was refused most peremptorily; but the empress, hearing how pale, and feeble, and altered her old favorite had become, in- terfered with such success, that not only were they recalled to the capital, but on the first anniversary, after their return, of the day of St. Nicholas, their names again appeared among those honored by an invitation to the court-ball. On that evening, let us enter the boudoir of the princess an hour or two before the time appointed for their attendance. It was the first time Natalie had ventured to appear in public; and on this occasion she lay back, on her sofa, propped up with pillows, so weak and exhausted that the most uninterested spectator would have dreaded for her the cx- THfl COURT-BALL. citement and fatigue of such an exertion. But it is needless to say that neither of them for a moment hesitated to ohey the flatteiing command whieh summoned them once more within the orbit of the court. I have said Natalie lay resting quietly on her sofa; the princess sat opposite to her buried in thought, anxious and nervous about the fate of the evening. She did not speak to her, not dar- ing to ask even how she felt, and far less ven- turing to make the slightest allusion to past events. Indeed, by tacit consent, the one topic had never once been touched upon since they left Russia. There was a strange contrast between the crimson velvet cushions and the white trans- parent face, pale and pure, with every fea- ture sharpened and refined by her wasting and undefined ?llness. The large dark eyes looked larger than ever, now that they seemed to usurp more than their due proportion of the face, and the thick masses of dark hair fell loose and disarranged round her shoulders. Never had her sister seen her look so touch- ingly beautiful. Her dress for the evening, of white lace, lay on a chair near her, and with it the wreath of lilies of the valley, one of the com- monest of Russian wild-flowers, which she had selected to wear. She lay back abstracted, torning round and round her thin finger a simple little enamelled ring she had worn night and day for the last three years a ring she most jealously refused to take off, and which, she confessed, had words en- graved inside it which none but herself and the giver knew of; but who that giver was, or what the motto, the princess never could ascertain. So they stayed to the last mo- ment, Natalie murmuring to herself the re- frain of a little German song, an especial favorite of the empress, an adieu, full of unshed tears. At last, the Prince Gagarine entering, with some remark on the lateness of the hour, broke the spell of sorrowful re- collections, and they rose to prepare for the court-ball. But under what different auspices did they again enter that splendid saloon! With what slow and faltering steps did they ad- vance to pay their respects to their imperial hosts! The eyes of the empress turned sadly away as Natalie withdrew from the presence; but while she had stood before her, her lips ;aad uttered only cold and commonplace re grets for her illness. Beside her stood the emperor and the grand-duke; and every shade of color faced away while she felt what scru- tinizing eyes were noting, with merciless ex- actness, every point of difference in her ap- pearance since she stood there last. The ordeal was soon over; and, pale, care- worn, and neglected, she sat as an uninterest- ed spectator, gazing on a scene in which she once would have taken a distinguished part. But as the evening wore on, she seemed to rally, and the warmth and excitement brought a glow brighter than health to her cheek. She had constantly refused to dance; and it was not until quite late in the evening that she consented to stand up and take part in a quadrille. Her partner was one of her old admirers, who still loved her with the same warmth he had expressed years before. I have said she had already met face to face the heir-apparent of the throne. Then, not the sharpest observation could have de- tected, beyond her extreme pallor, any sign of emotion or embarrassment. The grand- duke had behaved with the most princely courtesy, and she, on her side, with reserve and respect. But who shall describe her con- fusion when Alexander took his place opposite her in the dance It was too late to retreat all eyes were fixed upon them and, above all predominant, she knew the emper- ors gaze was concentrated on them alone. In the figure where their hands met for a moment, to the astonishment of everybody, the grand-duke retained Natalies hand so long in his grasp that she lost all self-posses- sion; the room seemed to swim round her, the music to become an indistinct murmur the coldness of death crept over her limbs, and she was on the point of falling, when the emperor stepped forward, and without saying a word, drew her arm within his, and car- ried rather than led her out of the room and while some hastened to order round her carriage, to facilitate her departure, he wrapped her in her furred mantle, and, after seeing her safe in her sisters care, returned to the ball-room witohut changing a muscle of his face. What a world of emotion and struggle there may be in the heart at the very time when we seem most placidly occupied with simply external things! The quadrille was not over when the emperor returned to the room; but those who knew what grave interests were TilE COURT-BALL. concerned in this little scene, that took not countrys welfare. All rests with you, and half the time to enact it has taken to describe, I cannot doubt what your decision will be. were not deceived by the expression of his While you hold to your word, think you marble face. he will consent to break his? So, for the Early next morning, to the surprise of the sake of your sovereign, of your country, of whole household at Natali& s home, the crc- him you profess so to love, I demand of you peror was announced, desiring to speak with this sacrifice, bitter as it is her alone. With a beating heart she de- The poor girl hid her face in her hands, seceded to the interview, and awaited the first and almost inaudibly said: Sire, I am your wc~d. Conceive, then, her feelings when he majestys slave. addressed her as follows: It was true what he had said it was no Natalie Poleusky, you know that I have high-sounding speech of merely worldly pol- always taken the greatest possible interest in icy; for those who knew Nicholas best do your welfare tell me now what are your believe him, however mistaken, to have been prospects for the future!~ a conscientious man, who actually did daily Sire, she replied, I can answer you and hourly sacrifice his private feelings to without a moments hesitation, since to-mor- what he believed his duty. He had done so row I leave St. Petersburg for Varen~ge, where even in the present instance. By one word I enter the convent, never to leave it a~ain oP imperative command, he could have at- She stopped, exhausted, leaning for tamed his object; but the autocrat had support a~ainst the edge of a table. stooped to argument and solicitation with Sit down, Natalie, and listen to me, the young girl, who bent like a reed before resumed her interrogator in a kindlier tone. him. This must not be I have in store for you At the betrothal, which took place imme- pleasanter prospects. You danced last night diately, and during the whole time of the with Count Maurenosoff; if I mistake not, he splendid preparations for the wedding, Natalie still loves you, and is anxious to renew his lived and moved as in a dream nothing proposals for your hand. If such be the gave her pleasure, nothing pain. On the case, I shall give you away myself, and your evenin~ appointed for the religious ceremony, wedding shall he celebrated at the Winter when all the guests were assembled, and the Palace. bridemaids, thirty-six in number, and mus- Natalie knew too well what this meant, tering among them the highest rank and the kind calm tone, and the unmistakable cx- beauty of the young nobility of Russia, were pression of those steadfast, determined eyes; assembled in the magnificently lighted and yet she felt at the moment she could dare decorated church when the bridegroom anything rather than consent to a union Maurenosoff stood, looking, in spite of all the which, under other circumstances, might have repulses he had received at Natalies hands, gratified many a womanly weakness. In her proud, contented, and almost happy all desperation, however, she took courage, and eyes were turned towards the church-doors, sank at the feet of the czar: when presently the bells began noisily to an- Sire, she murmured, hear me but once nounce the approach of the bride, and in more, and you will relent. I love and was another instant, leaning on the emperors arm, beloved by one to whom I swore more than she appeared. once never to be anothers. Let me 0, let Never shall I forget that scene never lose me only remain faithful to that oath I ask from my memory the impression of that mar- no more! The stern, impenetrable Nicho- ble face and utterly unresisting manner. If las seemed touched by her appeal, but, tak- she had been in her coffin, she would have ing her by the hand, he said: looked less deathlike there, than when she My child, listen to a father. The oath stood shrouded in lace and glittering with you tell me of was a childish one. I doubt jewels staring at vacancy, hearing nothing, not he also bound himself by the like. Re- understanding nothing, answering as if the member, Natalie remember he is heir to nmy words and their meaning were alike indiffer- throne, and therefore must not, and cannot, ent. After the ceremony was concluded, she. follow his own wishes and impulses. I sac- received the congratulations of her friends, rifice mine a hundred times a day for my and even the kiss of the empress, as if so many THE COURT-BALL. condolences had been offered her. But nature broke down under the forced composure of the moment, and she entered her new home, borne across the threshold in a state of insen- sibility. I need add nothing more. The emperor had judged rightly; and the marriage of the grand-duke with the present empress took place very shortly afterwards. Within a year after her marriage, I saw the Countess Maurenosoff in her coffin: she had died giving birth to twin-daughters. The incidents of this little narrative are well known in St. Petersburg, and will be recognized by many who will appreciate the reasons that have made me alter the names of all but the principal actors. ANECDOTE OF LAPLACE. Under this title, in the Journal des Savans for 1850, M. Biot, thea seventy-five years of age, gave an account of the benevolent encouragement of Laplace towards a young nspirant to scientific fame. As this jour- nal is but little read in En4and, the substance of the anecdote may be worthy of insertion in your columns. M. Biot gave his account in the character of a person about to make a long voyage, and anxious to pay his debts before set- ting out. It may be added that he has not yet taken his departure, and if we may judge from the activity of mind shown in a recent account of Brewsters Life of Newton, in the same jour- nal, he may remain in his place at the French Institute for many years yet. The aspirant, of course, was M. Biot himself. The first introduction to Laplace took place in what he calls an VIII. de la Ripublique Fran- faise, premiere idition. He was then what he terms a tout petit Professor of Mathematics at Beauvais, forgetting that he was on the point of being nominated an associate of the Institute. Fascinated with the .Mi~canique Ofleste, so far as then published, he wrote to Laplace, without any introduction, begging to have the sheets as fast as they were printed. Laplace politely an- swered that he would rather the public judged of the whole volume at once. M. Biot replied that he was not of the public which judged, but of the public which studied; and that he might hope, by working through the whole, to Correct a few misprints. Laplace yielded to this in- ducement, and M. Biot, at each of his journeys to Paris, used to return the sheets with his cor- rections, and to receive help in his difficulties. These last generally occurred at places where the author had abbreviated a train of thought into It is easy to see; and NI. Biot remem- bers an occasion on which Laplace himself was nearly an hour in trying to recover what he had hidden under the mysterious symbol, Ii est aisi de roir. The .M~canique Cileste may be presumed to be a difficult book: the reader will find it so, if he try. When a student at Cambridge, I asked a teacher of mine, who will perhaps not remember it (if he should see tl~is), whatwere the existing helps to reading Laplace: he answered, A few reams of paper and five hundred of the best quills. A short time after personal acquaintance had thus commenced, M. Biot had the good fortune to find a method of applying what mathemati- cians now call equations of mixed differences to the direct and general solution of some problems which Euler had treated only indirectly. He took his solution to Laplace, who heard of it with some apparent surprise, examined the manuscript attentively, and pronounced that M. Biot had invented the true method. But, said he, the apercus of further progress which you give at the end are seen from too great a distance. Do not go beyond the results you have obtained. You will probably find the sub- sequent analysis more difficult than you reckon on. After some resistance, M. Biot agreed to omit this portion, and Laplace desired him to present the memoir to the Institute the next day, and to dine with him afterwards. Accord- ingly, the next day, M. Biot read and explained his method to a meeting at which, among others, General Bonaparte was present. The paper gave satisfaction to all present, and Laplace, Bonaparte (who took especial interest in every thing which came from a pupil of the Polytech- nic School), and Lacroix, were appointed a com- mittee of examination. M. ~iot walked borne with Laplace. When they arrived, Laplace took M. Biot into his cabinet, and, producing shee of paper yellow with age, showed him th very method which he thought he had been the first to invent. Laplace had been stopped at the point ~t which M. Biot left off, and had put the papers by, hoping at some future time to con- quer the ulterior difficulties which he had hinted to M. Biot might perhaps exist. He then re- quired absolute silence on the subject, avoided, in the report, aJl allusion to what he had done, and would not allow M. Biot to give any hint of his own previous researches in the published memoir. In 1850, twenty-three years after La- places death, M. Biot felt himself at liberty to pay the debt of gratitude to his benefactor, in a manner which does honor to both. - M. Notes and Queries. 55 A BARDS REQUEST. A BARDS REQUEST. BY CHARLE5 MAcKAY. I. WHEN I lie cold in death, Bury me where ye will, Though if my living breath May urge my wishes still, When I shall breathe no more Let my last dwelling be Beneath a turf with wild flowers covered oer, Under a shady tree, A grave where winds may blow and sunshine fall, And autumn leaves may drop in yearly funeral. II. Icare not for a tomb, With sculptured cherubim, Amid the solemn gloom Of old cathedrals dim I care not for the pride Of epitaphs well meant, Nor wish my name with any pumps allied, When my last breath is spent Give me a grave beneath the fair green trees, And an abiding-place in good mens memories. IlL But wheresoer I sleep, I charge you, friends of mine, With adjuration deep And by your hopes divine, Let no irreverent pen, For sake of paltry pay, Expose my faults or folliesunto men, To desecrate my clay; Let none but good mens tongues my story tell, Nor even they: I d sleep unvexed by any knell. Iv. Why should the gaping crowd Claim any right to know How sped in1shine or cloud My pilgrima~e below? Why should the vulgar gaze Be fixed upon my heart, When I am dead, because in living days I did my little part To sing a music to the march of man A lark high carolling to armies in the van? V. But still if crowds will claim A moral, to be told, From my unwilling name, When slumbering in the mould, 1 11 tell the tale myself A story ever new Yet old as Adam 0, ye men of pelf, Ye would not tell it true! But I will tell it in my noon of life, And wave the flag aloft ere I depart the strife. VI. I wasted precious youth, But learned before my prime The majesty of Truth, The priceless worth of Time. I hoped, and was deceived I built without a base I erredI suffereddoubtedand believed; I ran a breathless race And when half-way toward the wished-for goal, Despised the bauble crown, for which I d given my soul. VII. I thought that I was wise, When folly was my rule, But with late-opened eyes Confessed myself a fool. I strove in vain to flee The penalty of sin; I plucked the apple, Pleasure, from the tree, And found it dust within. I sowed ill seed in spring-time of my years, And reaped the natural crop of agony and tears. VIII. I never did a wrong That brought not punishment, In sufferings keen and long, By chastening mercy sent. I never did the right Without a sweet reward Of inward music and celestial light, In beautiful accord. I never scorned but with result of scorn, Nor loved without new life when I w~a most forlorn. Ix. I. think I loved my kind, And strove to serve it, too, And in my secret mind Adored the good and true. I know I never dipped My pen in slime or gall, Or wrote a sentence which the purest-lipped Would scruple to recall; I think my lyre gave forth a manly tone I know I never preached opinions not my owii. x. i round, as man or boy, Delight in wild woods green, And reaped perpetual joy From every natural scene. I nursed amid the crowd My human sympathies; To heart and brain they made appeal aloud, With voice of mysteries. And in the forest paths, or cities thronged, Nature was in my soul, and to my soul belonged. XI. In all my life I felt Gods presence evermore, And reverently knelt To love and to adore. Such let the record be, I charge ye, friends of mine. Add but a date to this life-history, The obituary line, Say that I lived and died, and did my best; But spare my secret heart, and let my follies rest 56 THE INTER-OCEANIC RAILWAY. 57 From The Economist, 16 Feb. ers of one kind or another, will be ~ire to THE INTER-OCEANIC RAILWAY. participate in every feasible project for facil- Tais is the title of a projected railway itating the communication, to be accom- from the Atlantic to the Pacific across lion- pushed only by a great outlay, between the duras, of which the details are given in a two oceans. No other people can or do live new work by Mr. E. G. Squier, recently pub- so much by and for the future as th~ English, lished.# We have no intention of noticing it and by their providence, as well as by their to express any opinion on the project, or on example, the means have been, and will yet the political difference between England and be, supplied for many material and world- the United States in reference to Central wide improvements. America, to which such a project lends addi- It can be no objection to the proposed rail- tional importance. We refer to it because way that it is suggested by an American all people, but particularly the Americans, and would serve very much the purposes of and the English with their colonies, are the Americans; for their real and substantial deeply interested in the communication be- interests and ours are almost identical. The tween the two oceans. To shorten the voyage two people are fed by the produce of th~ one-half between Europe and Australia, and same fields, are clothed by the same looms, bring that great continent, which we now wear the same cottons, woolens, and silks, know to be teeming with gold, and offerino and the same ships carry the wealth of each to the hemmed-in people of the Old Worl~ to and fro for their mutual advantage. They vast fields to cultivate, within one months use the same instrument of exchange, and pleasant voyage not one-third so distant as both are closely dependent on the produc- was America when it first received Europe- tions of the same mines, as well as on the ans, then far less closely packed than at pres- productions of the same fields, and their ent promises to benefit and to interest the money markets go up and down tooether, or whole family of man, in intimate sympathy. Their mines are It has of late been our duty cpntinually to nourished by the same stream of observation; bring under the notice of our readers the their arts aret improved by the same inven- degree in which the abundance, and conse- tions; their kri~wledge is even more common quently the price, of the most common arti- than their fields, their ships, and their money; des in daily use or of daily necessitybread, and, both spiritually and materially, they sugar, tea, coffee, cotton, silk, money, & c. mutually and reciprocally aggrandize one depend on the production and the con- another. sumption of the people living in every quar- Whatever difference may unhappily exist ter of the globe. The failure, for example, between the two Governments, the two peo- of the sugar crop in Louisiana has raised the ple have a common interest, and are indis- price of Jaoaaica muscovado in our markets. solubly united in the pursuit of a common The demand for silver in India and China good. Independently, therefore, of the pe- helps to keep our country bare ofgold. The culiar advantages we might derive from application of industry and of capital in each bringing our Australian colonies one-half in country becomes, therefore, as commerce is time practically nearer to us, we are sure to extended, a subject of interest to all; and we participate largely and fully in all the ad- eannot, at least we ought not, to look wit}a vantages which the people of the States may indifference at the proposed employment of derive from this new communication. It 2,000,000, which may be regarded as equiv- would be difficult, indeed, to say at present, alent to usefully directing or misdirecting when our people are in part fed by flour, 8,000,000 days labor, on any one scheme in maize, cheese, pork, & c., imported from any part of the world. There is in fact one America, whether they or the Americans are spot where no such scheme is regarded with most benefited by those great and rapid clear- indifference. On hardly any project in any ances in the Far West, with the railways to part of the world could it now be proposed bring their produce to the East, which are to expend a capital of 2,000,000, with a amongst the glories of individual enterprise view to future profit, without coming to Lon- and the wonders of modern society. We look don for part of the means. For Sardinian on the project with no disapprobation because and Turkish loans, for Italian and Spanish it is expressly intended to serve the purposes and American railways, the money in part of the Americans, and because it is promoted has been raised here; and English capital- by a gentleman who has rather distinguished ists, English engineers, and English labor- himself as a politician by his attempts to ex cite t ne of another of the two * Notes on Central America, particnlarly the States of he jealousy o Honduras and San Sale or. Their Geography, Topogra- people. We advert to it as a feasible plan phy, Climate, Popnlaiion, Resources, Productions, & c. & c., to facilitate general social improvement. and the proposed Honduras Inter-Oceanic Railway. By On the Atlantic H. G. Squier. With original Maps and Illustrati3ns Lon Ocean (merely to abridge does: Sampson Low & Co. New York: Harper & Brothers. Mr. Squiers atement),in latitude 150 49/ 58 N., there is a spacious and secure bay of easy access, in the territory of the republic of Honduras, called Puerto Caballos. In the territory of the same republic, on the Pacific Ocean, in latitude 13~ 21 N., due south from Pexerto Cahallos, there is a still more capacious and indeed ma~nificent port, called the Bay of Fonseca. Between these two ex- cellent anchorages, from five fathoms water on the one side to five fathoms on the other, the distance is 148 geographical, or 160 statute miles. The intervening country has been carefully surveyed, and nowhere pre- sents any engineering difficulties of impor- tance. The gradients of the line proposed will be, for the first 50 miles, beginning on the Atlantic, 17 feet to the mile; for the next 40 miles, 25 feet 2 inches to the mile; for crossing the summit, 15 miles, 55 feet to the mile; and from thence to the Pacific the maximum will not exceed 45 feet to the mile. The total of ascents and descents is 4,700 feet, an avera0e of a little more than 28 feet to the mile. Some of the roads al- ready made have sharper gradients. Of the Baltimore and Ohio the gradients are 116 feet to the mile, of the Baltimore and Sus- quehana 90, of the proposed Tehuantepec road 64, and of the Panama road, Pacific slope, 60. There is in the mere elevation, therefore, scarcely difficulties to be overcome, much less insuperable obstacles. There are no swamps on the line, and the ground may be comparatively easily worked. Timber of all kinds and building stone of the most useful description are abundant throughout nearly the whole course. In the country are large bodies of laborers, well drilled and organized in gangs, accustomed to hard work, to felling trees, and skilful at road making. The climate, with the ex- ception of a narrow belt on the northern coast, is healthy and comparatively cool. Oxen, both for draught and for food, are plentiful. Between the two points there are several tolerably large towns, and a consider- able population on the line, securing every- where in a fertile country the means of sub- sistence, while the natural products of the country, both vegetable and mineral, supply materials for a very large trade and for the rapid accumulation of wealth. The rivers in the interior are generally navigable, and would be accessories to communication with the different parts of the country. The Government of Honduras is compara- tively stable and settled, and from it a char- ter for the construction of the road has been obtained, and with it is combined the Lion- duras Steam-ship and Navigation Company, which is granted ingress and egress to the harbors of the republic free of duties and THE INTER-OCEANIC RAILWAY. charges. The spacious harbors at either end of the line constitute an advantage possessed by no other projected line across the isthmus. The total cost of the construction and equip- ment is estimated at $7,000,000, or less than half the sum per mile which the Panama Railway, 49 miles in length, has cost. The revenue is put down at $2,000,000 per annum for the first four years of its working, and, the ports at either end being much nearer to the United States than the ronte by Panama, this line will shorten the voyage between New York and San Francisco seven days as compared to the existing routes. In Mr. Squiers book numerous details are given, numerous comparisons are instituted, and many facts stated with apparent fairness, so as to enable capitalists to form correct ideas of the advantages and difficulties of the great scheme. We shall not copy them, intending only to give our readers this brief outline of the project. For England the advantages, so far as shortening the communication with our co - onies to the South is concerned, might not be so Crreat as the shorter road by Panama, but it would conduct through a more healthy climate, would have better ports at either end, and we should have our shale of the ad- vantages the States and other countries might derive from the more speedy and safe com- munication between countries on the Atlantic and on the Pacific. The project, however, is not to be regarded in any degree as politi- cal: it is commercial and social, and under- taken for the profit to accrue. This is the safest and only test of its general utility, and it should neither be begun nor continued unless it is likely to pay. The whole isthmus has been as yet very partially explored; better lines of communication may yet be discov- ered; one, two, or three, all or more than have yet been planned, may hereafter be re- quired; but as yet little more than passenger traffic by rail across the isthmus can be hoped for, and it will be only as great towns grow up on the shores of both oceans, and as the whole of Central America becomes populous, creating a considerable import and export tra~le, that a large and advantageous transit goods traffic can come into existence. Till then, the mere expense of unloading and re- shipping cargoes will prevent many heavy goods from being sent across the isthmus in- stead of round Cape Horn. The more routes, however, there can be successfully con- structed to carry passengers and light goods with a profit, the sooner will the dream of centuries be realized, of a great highway for trade between the most remote parts of the globe across the American isthmus. SQUIER S NOTES ON CENTRAL AMERICA. 59 From The Athemeun, 9 Feb. never ought to be, any real ground of quarrel Central America; particularly the with the United States. The interests of the Notes on two countries are identical. Their moral States of Honduras and San Salvador: their Geography, Topography, Climate, principles are the same. They have neithe? Population, Resources, Productions, 4c:, a language to separate nor a religion to and the Proposed Honduras Inter- Oceanic estrange them. The same blood flows in the Railway. By E. G. Squier. With Original veins of their people. They have a common Maps and Illustrations. New York, liar- history, a common literature, a common tra- dition. They possess the same Bible. They per Brothers; London, Trubuer & Co. read the same Shakspeare and the same Mil ton. Blake conquered and Cromwell ruled for both. They have an equal interest in Raleigh, in Vane, and in Penn. Nay, their present state is as inseparable as their past. They still live by the light of the same old Saxon laws. They still drink at the same intellectual fountains, regardless whether the springs lie on the eastern or the western shores of the Atlantic. Irving, Bryant, Ban- croft, Hawthorne, Longfellow, are admired with as warm an affection in England as are Thackeray, Tennyson, Dickens, Jerrold, and Macaulay in America. A war between Amer- ica and England would be a war of brothers a war of friend against friend. It would be a war against the affinities of race, against the unity of religion, against the interchanges of trade. It would be a war in favor of bar- barism, piracy, restriction a war against the bounties of Nature, the enterprises of genius, the advances of civilization. Such a war would brinn sorrow into every Anglo- Saxon home in Europe and America, and a feeling of shame and humiliation into every Anglo-Saxon heart, in whatever quarter of the globe it beats. Such a war would close the Gospel for nearly half the Christian world! We say nothing about material interests. They go for much; but the moral interests far outweigh them. The interchange of thought is more important than the inter. change of cotton. And for what are we threatened with an interruption of our friendly relations with our American kin- dred? Is any principle at issue? Are our liberties threatened is our property unsafe? Not in the least degree. Only three slight and miserable causes for quarrel appear: a dispute about the construction of a treaty regarding that interesting savage, the King of Mosquito, a dispute about some wretched sandbanks lying off Belize, and a dispute about the attempt to enlist troops for the Crimea. The first two are quite insignificant. We mi~ht as well go to war about the sovereignty of Eel-Pie Island. We may be right or we may be wrong in our inter- pretation: the Americans think we are wrong. There is much to be said on both sides; and we all know that when private persons disagree about trifles a courteous and conciliatory tone soon removes the ~use COMMON politics lie beyond our province. We gladly leave to our powerful and saga- cious contemporaries the duty of vindicating our rank in the scale of nations. We con- cern ourselves slightly with the rights of men and the wrongs of women. Even the Russian war has had for us only a secondary interest. Our labors fall, very happily for ourselves and for our readers, in the calmer regions of intelligence, regions rarely dis- turbed by intrusion of the fiercer passions, and across which the flash of battle passes as a softened light, and the roar of bombard- ment is only heard in a sad and mournful monotone. Before we can deal with politics, they must generally have passed into history. But there are exceptions to our rule, and the question of a possible rupture with America is certainly, one of these exceptions. Surely such a rupture is unlikely! Yet the air grows heavier day by day. The idea is becoming familiar to many minds. Passions are rising. Every mail appears to bring us nearer to the cataract; and, unless the good and moderate men of both hemispheres come to the rescue of their governments, a collision may ta.ke place. Under such an aspect of events, every voice to which the public will listen should be raised. The more cautiously we ourselves abstain in ordinary times from pronouncing on the course of our national policy, the more we feel bound, in this solemn moment, to appeal to the true feeling and sedate un- derstanding of our readers, on both sides of the Atlantic, against the levity, the pride, or the incapacity which would urge the two na- tions into war. War with the United States! The idea of such a war is incredible. If there be in the catalogue of mortal calamities a worse than civil war,it is such a conflict as might arise between America and England. A civil war has generally some basis in reason. Some grand principle is at stake. The sword is drawn in defence of freedom in defence of property in defence of religion. As in our own civil war, a certain degree of romance, of chivalry, and of intellectual activity, often springs from the conflict and flourishes after its close the blossom and the fruit of a splendid and deadly contest. But a war against America would have no single re- deeming point. There is not, and there SQUIERS NOTES ON CENTRAL AMERICA. of quarrel. About the third point the attempt to enlist in the Republican territory we are unquestionably in the wrong. In neither case is our honor engaged; in neither case does any principle, which ought to be maintained, stand behind the formal terms of the disagreement thus presenting a true ground of quarrel, as in the Russian War, which the genius of the nation can seize and accept. Our statesmen mi~ht and must find in the resources of diplomacy a means of satisfying all interests without an insane appeal to the sword. Where we are clearly wrong, we should at once and fully admit our error, making whatever reparation is fairly due. It is said the Washington Cabinet requires the withdrawal of Mr. Crampton. Surely this is no extreme or revolutionary request. Personal unpopularity has always been considered a sufficient reason for re- quiring the withdrawal of an ambassador. We could give a hundred instances in which sovereign powers have exercised this right. Under such circumstances withdrawal does not imply censure. It merely implies that the personal relations of the ruler and ~II~ minister have become such as to impede the transaction of public business. We were wrong in attempting to recruit within the Union. Mr. Crampton was the instrument of the wrong. He has thereby rendered himself an object of suspicion at Washing- ton. His withdrawal, therefore, at the re- quest of the American Cabinet, would be in accordance with usage, and would be a sure pledge of the sincerity of our acknowledg- ment of the original error. Strong nations can afford to be graceful in their conces- sions. The other points are less clear. Yet, if a proper spirit of conciliation presides at the discussion, we have no reason to fear a per- manent disagreement. We have a right to expect that our diplomatists and public writers will approach the discussion in a pacific mood. Above all things, we depre- cate a menacing tone. We cannot read without indignation the elaborate display of our naval and military powers which some of our journals have thought proper to make. Every Englishman feels that he would not be put down by such a parade; and we must not forget that our descendants in America are just as haughty as ourselves. They have our blood, our passions, our acute sense of personal honor. Against ourselves the threat of force is the one argument that is sure, under all circumstances, to fail. Nor will the Americans be cowed by a menace of the Baltic fleet. We must argue our point as if no fleets were in existence, and take our stand on the ground of history and reason. An American author of repute has fur- nished us with an elaborate explanation and defence of the views taken by his countrymen of the Central American difficulty. In 1850 Mr. E. G. Squier, of the Corps Diplomotique of the United States, was chcrq6-dcffaires from the Government of Washington to the Governments of Central America; and ever since that time Mr. Squier has been writing about Central America, urging his coun- trymen, more or less openly, to take posses- sion of Central America. Soon after his re- turn from his mission he wrote and published two bulky volumes on Nicaragua, on its ethnography, topography, antiquities, com- meree, and politics, with references to Cen- tral America generally; and despite the anti- British character of his work, aecording to our interpretation of the treaty, Sir Henry Bulwer obtained a great advantage over Mr. Squier and his party, by bodily turning the United States out of the promised land, the wonk was well received in England. The political questions raised on both sides of the Atlantic by that remarkable Conven- sion, the commercial interest taken in the various projects for canals and railroads of inter-oceanic communication, rendered a full and recent account of the Central Amer- ican position welcome, and Mr. Squier had no reason to quarrel with the attention ac- corded by the English to his facts, if not to his opinions to that which made the liter- ature, apart from the politics, of his boo~k. The painful interest again directed to thai part of the world by the antagonistic Eng- lish and American interpretations of the Treaty of 1850, seems to have suggested to Mr. Squier the expediency of another state- ment of the case, which we now have in a condensed form, with the most recent facts and the fresh arguments, the whole put in such a shape as to entitle the work, though traversing much of the old ground and deal-~ ing with the same question, to be considered as new. Of course Mr. Squier, being an American, believes in the manifest destiny~ of his country to colonize and rule over the states of Central America. His belief probably gives a color to his reasoning possibly even to his broad statement of facts. Bearing this partiality in mind, the reader may still take this as a summary of the question now in dispute, the assertion by Great Britain of her rights in the Bay Islands, in the Bay of Honduras. The islands in the Bay of Honduras, as I have already had occasion to say, are of great beauty, salubrity, and fertility, as well as im- portant from their geographical position and the possession of large and secure ports. These cir- cumstances give peculiar significance to the fad Co SQUIER S NOTES ON CENTRAL AMERICA. that, on the 17th of July, 1852, a proclamation was issued by the superintendent of the British establishment of Belize, declaring that her most gracious Majesty the Queen has been pleased to constitute and make the islands of Roatan, Boa- acca, Utilla, Barbaretta, Helena, and Morat to be a colony, to be known and designated as the Colony of the Bay Islands. This proclamation was issued, cs will be seen from its date, nearly two years after the formal promulgation of the oonvention of Washington of July 5,1850 (known as the Clayton and Buiwer Treaty), which provides, among other things, that the Govern- rnents of the United States and Great Britain, neither the one nor the other, shall ever occupy, or fortify, or colonize, or assume or exercise any dominion over Costa Rica, Nicaragua, the Mos- quito Shore, or any part of Central America.~ It may he added here, that the organization of these islands as a British colony attracted the attention of the Congress of the United States. The committee of Foreign Relations of the Sen- ate, after a full consideration of the subject, re- ported that the islands of Roatan, Bonacca, Utilla, & c., in and near the Bay of Honduras, constitute part of the territory of the republic of Honduras, and therefore form a part of Cen- tral America ; and, in consequence, that any occupation of these islands by Great Britain would be a violation of the Treaty of July 5, 1850. Mr. Squier treats this occupation, first, as a violation of treaty with the United States; and, next, with equal emphasis, as a viola- tion of the territorial rights of Honduras, an independent state. Of course, there is some exaggeration here, as in most warm contro- ~ersies. The story is otherwise told by Lord Clarendon in papers which have reached England through the Committee of Foreign Affairs. The statement is somewhat different as respects the dealings with Spain and with Honduras, ~vhile,in regard to the Bulwer- Clayton treaty, it is urged that Great Britain resigned no existing rights secured by prior treaty with other Powers. But we confess we see nothing in either dispute which ought to endanger the stability of our friendly re- lations. All the rights at issue are not worth the blood of one English or American citizen. Upon the second dispute, the maintenance by our Forei,,n Office of the Protectorate of the King of Mosquito, and our notions of the Mosquitian coast generally, Mr. Squier is terribly severe. We dare say he is right. After some elaborate exposures, in a Ge- ographical Introduction, of the blunders of the makers of maps of Central America, all of which, American and English, are, ac- cording to the ex-chargedaffaires, ludicrously wrong, he says: Nearly one-third of Central America is as- signed to the Mosquito Shore, which is here represented as a distinct and sovereign state. The term Mosquito Shore never had a political sense, but has always been used geographically to designate a portion of the eastern coast of Central America. The Indians known as Mos- quitos are only a few thousands of miserable savages, who are strictly confined to the coast, and have never had establishments of any kind inland. Essenti lly fishers, they~~ find a scanty subsistence in the numerous lagoons and creeks near the sea, their only traffic consisting of a few turtle-shells and a little sarsaparilla. Even if these savages were entitled to rank as a na- tion, they have not, nor could they ever have, the shadow of a pretence of sovereignty over the fractional part of the wide expanse of territory which this map assigns to them. But they have no title of sovereignty over any portion of the country, however small; they do not claim it for themselves; it is only set up on their behalf, by Great Britain, for sinister purposes, and, so far from being admitted, is positively denied by the United States, and every other nation of the globe. The portion of territory assigned by this map to the fictitious Mosquito nationality above the Rio Wanks or Segovia, belongs to Honduras; the part below pertains to Nicaragua. As to the potentate over these savages, who would sell his royalty for a quart of rum, new or old, Mr. Squier cannot restrain his disgust. All monarchs he, as a republi- can, despises; but a monarch without shoes and with ragged trousers is more than con- temptible in his eyes. From the frequent mention, of late yearn, of a personage styled the King of the Mosqui- tos, some portion of the public may have fallen into the error of supposing that what are called the Mosquito Indians do really recognize and obey some such potentate. Nothing could be farther from the truth. No form of government ever existed among these people, except such as was vested in their local head men or chiefs, who have often been at variance and in open hostility among themselves. Some of these have assumed the title of governor, others of general, admiral, & c., without, however, having the slightest comprehension of the meaning of the terms. Thus, at the time of Roberts visit, a chief called Governor Clemente was recognized as head man over the coast from Pearl Cay Lagoon to Sandy Bay; and another styled General Rob- inson held authority in the vicinity of Cape Gracias. When the English superintendent at Belize found it convenient to manufacture a king on the Mosquito Shore, a number of these head men were got together, and, by liberal ap- pliances of rum, induced to affix their marks to a paper, which was afterward produced as an act of allegiance to a Sambo selected for the purpose by the English agents. But the chiefs neither understood what they did, nor regarded it afterward. The fiction, however, answered its purpose, as will be seen in another place, when we come to speak of the British pretensians on the Mosquito Shore. 61 SQUIERS NOTES ON CENTRAL AMERICA. Mr. Squier has in view a pet Central Amer- ican project, a railway across Honduras, commencing at Puerto Caballos, on the Bay of Honduras, and runnin~ nearly due south across the continent to the Bay of Fonseca, 160 statute miles. His reasoning is weighty and his estimates are submitted. His opinion is, that his line must be preferred to the Panama line; and that, at any rate, it could be constructed for half the money expended on the route across the Panama Isthmus, that is to say, at a cost not exceeding 7,000,- 000, with avera~e revenues for the first four years of its working of not less than $2,000,- 000 per annum, the saving of time over existing routes being put down at not less than seven days in the voyage betweea New York and California. No doubt this is a bold estimate, but it may be worth attention. In the discussion which will probably arise in Parliament, and which will certainly be continued in the press, we trust to see the subject of these American differences treated with gravity and kindly tcmper. All men in England, without exception of party, would deplore, beyond all othcr possible calamities, a war with the United States. We are all proud of her greatness, her vigilance ,her success. Every event that brings prosperity to her brings pleasure to us. For, is she not our own offspring the witness of our vi- tality the monument of our arts, our arms, and our liberty? THE GLENCOE MASSAcRE. The annexed cut- ting from the Guardian of Sept. 19, 1855, seems worth preserving in N. & Q. A copy of the warrant authorizing the Glen- coe massacre by King William III., was stolen some time back from the archives of the Egling- ton family. It has been recently restored, and is now printed by the Scottish Press, which in- forms us that the paper is merely a copy of the warrant, though thought at first to be the original document. It does not bear the sign- manual of King William; but it is written in an antique style of penmanship, and the spelling is peculiar: For Their Majesties Service To Captain Robert Campbell of Glensgow. You are hierby ordered to fall upon the Rebels the Mckdonalds of Glenco and put all to the sword under 70. You are to have a speciall care that the old fox and his sones doe upon no account escape your hands. You are to secure all the avenues, that no man escape. This you are to put in execution at five of the elooke precisly and by that time, or very shortly after it, I 11 strive to be at you with a stronger pairtie. If I do not come to you at five you are not to tarrie for me, but to fall on. This is by the kings command for the good and saftie of the Countrie that thes miscreants be cut off root and branch, so that he put to execution without fend or favor, else you may expect to be dealt with as one not true to king or government, nor a man fit to carrie commission in the kings service. Expecting you will not faile in the fulfilling heirof as you love your selfe, I subserive this with my hand. Baideresis, Feb. 12, 1692. RonEaT DUNcANsON. sic subscribitor. In connection with this, perhaps some of your correspondents would give me the authority for what I have seen somewhere stated, viz, that William of Holland had determined to carry out against the Frasers, and some other clan, the same murderous measures which were put in execution against the MacDonalds of Glencoe. WsaasAn FaAsER, B.C.L. ALTON, STAFFORDSHIRE. .N~otes and Queries. IN consequence of the remarks which we made in the last number upon the piratical proceed- ings of the American publishers, we have re- ceived the following note from Mr. Lawrence, the author of the Life of Fielding: To the Editor of the Critic. Sir, In your notice on the Sayings and Doings of the Literary World for February, I find it stated that D. Appleton & Co., of New York, have announced my Life of Fielding~ for publication in America. This was to me a piece of news, as I have never received any com- munication from those gentlemen. But it is right for me to mention that Messrs. Lippincott, of Philadelphia, with a more honorable sense of an authors claims, had previously intimated that, if they published the work, they would pay something for the copyright. For this informa- tion I am indebted to Mr. II. C. Adams, a gen- tleman whose services to the English literary world are deserving of your recognition. Mr. Adams is not merely a powerful advocate for an equitable system of international copyright, but he has also generously interested himsclf, as I can gratefully testify, to obtain, in individual instances, a modicum of justice for English authors whose works are reprinted beyond the Atlantic. I am, sir, faithfully yours, FR DERscsr LAWRENCE. It is only just to Messrs. Appleton to mention that they have hitherto borne a very high char- acter for integrity and fair dealing, and we have little doubt, therefore, that they will eventually support that character in their conduct towards Mr. Lawrence. Critic. 62 THE PEAd~ NEGOTIATIONS. 63 THE PEACE NEGOTIATIONS. He will do what he finds to be his interest. To the Editor of The B. amlner. Both his interest and his security require SIR, Before the prelimin ries of a treaty that Russia shall not possess a population are si~ned by which the honor of England is the double of France, and which, under a placed under the honor of Russia, let me prudent government, may be quintupled in remind our rulers of former deeds. They half a century. Napoleon well knows that drove Sweden into a war against the Tzar, the Russians at the present day are in the by which she lost, under our sufferance, a same political, military, and moral condition large portion of her dominions. We per- as the Macedonians were when they con- mitted the Tzar to violate his treaty in regard quered all the known world excepting Italy. to Poland. We invited Austria to take And the idlest of all scholastic questions is, possession of rich provinces belonging to the whether Alexander could have subdued the very ally whom at that very time we were Romans. Among the Macedonians, ns among pretending to protect. These Danubian the Russians, the higher ranks were as civil- provinces are capable of producing more corh ized and instructed as those they fought and more cattle than the whole of Great against, and the rude material, the soldier, Rritain. was like the Russian well disciplined and It is now agreed that there shall he no inured to hardship. Such men always have defalcation from the territory of Russia. been, and always will be, the conquerors of Was it ever agreed that a purse should never nations. be taken from the grasp of a pickpocket, Poland alone with twenty millions can re- that his honor might not be wounded? We sist Russia with double the number. Yet are leaving the picklock keys and the revolver more than double the number are about to in each hand of an assassin, and seem per- be left under her dominion. What, then, feetly sure that he will not fire at us when have we been fighting for? For what have we turn our backs, nor ever attempt to corn- we been spending fifty millions of money, nit burglary again. and above a hundred thousand men, if we We have already proved that Russia has count allies as anything? We have been )etter diplomatists, better commanders, bet- paying toll at two turnpikes, and, coming to er officers, and equally brave soldiers. We the third and last, we find an old woman ave wounded her pride without diminishing standing at it, who informs us, when the icr power. We have extended her influence town lies close to us, that she must not and ver Armenia, Georgia, and Persia, which cannot unbar it, for that, in the words of ~ttter we might have controlled by a small the old song, aval force in the Persian gulf. Everything He promist to bring me a bonny blue ribbon, as been done which ought not to have been So Jocky is gone to the fair. one, little of that which ought. German ofluence has prevailed in British counsels: I resolved to write nothing more about the II know whose influence, nobody has the war; this is about the peace, and it is all I onesty and courage to pronounce the name, intend to say about it; others will have much We are now about to sign away and cede more. )rever all that we have been fighting for. Feb. 9. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOJI. Ye are about to graft the upas on the live, and our children will dwindle in Fron The Spectator, 16 Feb. rcngth and starve under its pestilential THE intelligence from America is calcu- tade. lated to flatter the Napoleonic idea of Des- It is grievous to think that England should tiny. It strengthens the hope that the o longer be able to joke at the appellation risk of hostilities between the two countries Perfide Albion. It lost its effect when it will be blocked out by the weight of good as pronounced by the most perfidious of sense residing in the public. The tone of the ankind. But since then we have surren- American press indicates a tendency to de- red to despotism every free state on the dine in excitement; the Russian acceptance ntinent of Europe. One alone, Genoa, of the Austrian propositions is reviewed in -.s recovered its liberty and increased its a manner little indicative of respect for Rus- ~ength by drawing to it the bravest nation sian sincerity; and the anxieties of the Italy, and by throwing off the trammels President are said to have affected his per- a priesthood, slothful in all things but sonal appearance. But the House of Repre- ;idious rapacity. One foot of colossal sentatives could not yet consolidate a major- ance must be planted on Italy, the other ity for the Speakership; and a cry was raised Poland : but what is the Colossus with- which will be unintelligible in this country, t the Sun? Freedom must shine afresh for the retirement of Mr. Bankswho pos- or these beautiful countries. Napoleon sesses the largest number of votes! The heat me can call it forth or bid it stand still. had grown so vehement, that one Rust, a THE DIFFERENCES WITH AMERICA. member of Congress, had assaulted Mr. II. lamentable to see two great countries on the Greeley for combating those who counselled verge of war about such a trifle. This petu- Mr. Banks to retire. The feebleness of the lance of the Americans must be met by central authority was further shown in the calmness and friendly frankness on our part. manifest rise of the expectation favorable to If they are bent on quarrelling, we hope the General Walker; and from a recently-pub- responsibility of provoking the war will rest lished despatch by Mr. Marcy, cautioning upon them. the United States representative in Central America to abstain from all intervention, it is dear that the American Secretary of State expects the Filibusters to become the de facto Government of Central America. The Gov- ernment at Washington cannot prevent it. Even if we were prepared to land a great army in Central America, it would only Cornwallis itself: a consideration which should influence our course in the litigation on the Bulwcr-Clayton treaty. From The Press, 16 Feb. THERE is no symptom of concession about the speeches of the American Senate. The most important is that of Mr. Seward, on the 31st of January. Mr. Sewards remarks are decidedly hostile to this country, though not expressed in such strong language as his countrymen sometimes indulge in. In fifty years, he tells us, at the very latest, Great Britain will have disappeared from the Western hemisphere. And war, he thinks, will rather retard than accelerate the desired consummation. In regard to the Central American difficulty he repudiates the idea of arbitration that, he says, would be surrendering our just rights. He goes on to state, that in event of war Canada could not refuse annexation, and recommends notice being given to Great Britain that her exercise of dominion in South America will be interfered with, if she does not dis- cintinue it within one year. On the 28th ult. Mr. Cass, Mr. Clayton, and Mr. Colla- mer all spoke to much the same effect. And the conclusion to which we are driven is, that thouoh the United States may not desire war, they will not recede one inch from the position they have taken up. It is From The Press, 16 Feb. Tm~ discussion in the Commons last night, on the difference with America, produced an uneasy feeling, and was remarkable for the change in the tone and manner of Lord Palmerston, as contrasted with his address a week previously. Then he was spirited, sanguine, and confident in the goodness of his cause, and succeeded in carrying the House with him. Last night he was troubled and confused, and spoke with evident con- straint. Mr. Roebuck showed that the dis- pute was really serious, and, so far as Aener- ican documents could be relied on, he established a strong case against our author- ities in America. The Government at Wash- ington have demanded the recall of Mr. Crampton and two of our Consuls. The correspondence between the two Govern- ments is proceeding, but there seems reason to apprehend that a diplomatic rupture will take place. Mr. Disraeli spoke on the ques- tion with reserve, and helped the Govern- ment out of its difficulty by recommending Mr. Roebuck to withdraw his motion for papers. It is singular to remark how exac1~- ly the predictions made when the Foreign Enlistment Bill was urged through the Legislature, more than a year ago, have been fulfilled by the results. One of the strongest objections to it was, that it would tend to embroil us with neutral States. The objec- tion was overborne, and the caution it should have suggested was disregarded. The For- eign Legion has up to this time been of not the slightest service to us, though it has in- volved us in a serious difficulty with Amer- ica, and has unfortunately placed us prima- rily in the wrong. THE YEAR Boox or AGRicULTURE; or, The An- 185455, together with very many of the jour.~ nual of Agricultural Progress and Discovery nals and publications of Great Britain, France, for 1855 and 1856. Robert E. Peterson & Son. and Germany. He has described all the most Tnis is an American work, got up with em- recent agricultural inventions of the United In its preparation the States, and collected reliable and standard inent care and labor. articles from European and American periodi~ editor has carefully examined every important cals. The work looks well, and promises to V~e agricultural or scientific publication which has valuable. Economist. appeared in the United States during the years 64

LITTELLS LIVING AGE.No. 620.12 APRIL, 1856. From Blackwoods Magazine. BIOGRAPHY GONE MATh AT certain intervals, ever since the days of Solomon, it has been found necessary, as a matteF of sheer duty, to lift the voice of warning against that much study which wea- ries the flesh, and the making many books of which there is no end. It is now several years since a strong protest was raised in this Magazine against the too common and most reprehensible practice of raking among dead mens ashes, and violating the confidences of the living, for no higher purpose than the gratificati~n of biographic weakness and vul- gar curiosity. Man is indeed, as Goethe has said, ever interesting to man, and no species of bookmaking finds readier excuses than bi- ography. But man ought also to be sacred to man; and of all the injuries that can be inflicted on a dead mans memory, none is more cruel than the act of the friendly ghoul who unnecessarily recalls him from the silence of the grave. Corruptio optirni est pessissima. Biography, well done, is one of the most in- structive and interesting kinds of composition; ill done, it is about theworst. We call it ill done, either when a good subject is marred in the handling, or when the choice is an un- worthy one. The number of men whose lives are worthy to be recorded for an en~ample to mankind is really small. In saying so we are far from meaning to express a contempit- nous opinion of human nature. Some of the best men that ever lived were those whose lives had fewest incidents, and offered the scantiest materials for the ingenuity of the bookmaker. Happy, it is said, is the nation whose annals are dull happy also the man whose life escapes the chronicler, who passes at the end of his days work into the silent land, to enjoy No biography, and the privi- lege of all the weary. A stupid biography of an interesting person is indeed a very lamentable thing; and not only so, but a grave injustice alike to the dead and to the living. Since the protest al- luded to was uttered, there has been no lack of this sad work. The most conspicuous re- cent examples that occur to us are tho L~es Dcxx. LiVING AGE. VOL. Xiii. ~ of Thomas Moore and of Lady Blessington. But though the life of a man of genius, served up in the form of hodge-podge, is rather a melancholy repast, there are biographic nui- sances less tolerable still. The features of a Jupiter or an Apollo may be hard to recognize in the plaster of an incompetent dabbler; but if the model were really a noble one, some- thing of the god will break through to edify the spectator. It is different, however, with the rude idol of the savage. The biography of a respectable mediocrity is, it may be safely said, among the least interesting or useful of literary performances. Minerva Peess novels are bad enough (those who think the species is extinct are greatly mistaken) ; spasmodic poems are anything but enlivening; and nu- mismatic treatises are not ambrosial fare; but against any of these we would back for true invincible unreadableness the Memoir and Remains, we will suppose, of the Rev. Jabez Jones, iD.D., late pastor of Ramoth- Gilead Chapel, Battersea. We select our instance from the class of religious biogra- phies, because it is by far the most numerous, and the most distinctly chargeable with the sin of bookmaking. Jabez, we have no doubt, was in his day and generation an excellent man, though given, as his Memoirs of course will amply testify, to unnecessary groaning. But why his life should have been written, is a mystery to be solved only by the astute pub- lisher, who calculates on a sale of several hundred copies among the bereaved congre- gation of Ramoth-Gilead. The sorrowful biographer, whose name on the title-page plainly marks him as an eligible candidate for the degree of D.ID., will inform us in a sweet preface that the materials of the present work were put into his hands, & c. that, painfully conscious of his own inability, he had long, & c.; but that a perusal of the documents had so deeply impressed him with the importance of giving the world, & c. ; that such as it is, in short, he commits itand then is pretty certain to follow a piece of nauseous blasphemy * as to the nature of the * One curious example of this kind of thing we remember t~ have seen in the preface to the new edition of a work of BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. patronage to which the pious speculation is held entitled. The number is perfectly sick- ening of bereaved husbands, sons, and fathers, who practice this strange alchemy on the penitential tears and devout breathings, the sick-bed utterances and dying ejaculations of ainted wives, mothers, and babes. But bad as it is causelessly to exhume the poor victim of mortality in order to make him sit for his likeness, the posthumous method of biography is the natural and be- coming one. Only when a man has finished his work, and escaped beyond the reach of human passions and cares, is it fitting to de- lineate his character and trace the story of his devious path through life. The practice of bio6raphizing living men, however, has now become very common. The publication of ~loges used formerly to he reserved as a posthumous honor, but this generation is wiser, and writes the 6loge while the subject of it can himself enjoy its perusal in the land of the living and the place of hope. One would think it a curious evidence of regard, independently of the question of delicacy, to adopt so suggestive a method of reminding a man that he is due to posterity. But tastes differ, and some men are not averse to the Charles V. method of trying on their shrouds, to see, as tbc old woman said, what a bonnie corpse they will make. With us in Britain this practice of spiritual vivisection, or ante-mortem inquests, has been confined for the most part to short sketches, preten- tiously critical in general, and very seldom of any value. Fundamentally gossiping in its character, this school of literary sketchers (what may be called the Biographical Life Academy) has appealed mainly to the weak curiosity tbat hungers after any small scraps of information regarding the private life and habits of living notorieties. Such curiosity is no doubt extremely natural, but the men who have undertaken the function of gratify- ing it, have, as might be supposed, been dis- tinguished by no qualities less than by dis- cernment and good taste, correctness of outline being with them a small consideration compared to abundance and strength of color. This vulgar species of authorship, the ser- vants-halI gossip of the literary family, has, we hope, seen its palmy days. some reputation. The devout author, alluding to the sne- sees of his performance, offers his grateful thanks to Provi- dence and the Periodical Press. On the other side of the Atlantic, however, the business seems to flourish, like all other business, with great briskness. Our Ameri- can friends, excellent people as they are in so many respects, have long been known to us as pre-eminent in the gossipin,, line; one of the chief characteristics of the Anglo-Ameri- can race being intense curiosity an admir- able principle, as every one knows, when subordinate to a high end, a decided weakness when not. To say that the American people universally are influenced by the spirit of vulgar curiosity, would be as unjust as it would be to charge the whole British nation with foulness of taste because the Mysteries of London has found myriads of readers. But that the fashion has been exemplified very extensively by Americans of making the pub- lic familiar with the insides of private draw- ing-rooms, and telling the world how popular poets and historians handle a teapot or blow their noses, is a fact not to be denied. Among a people recognizing, or professing to recognize, as the fundamental principle of government and society, the Irishmans pro- found axiom, that one man is as good as another faith, and a great dale betther too it is not indeed surprising that in the sphere of literature, as well as in others, they should make more free with the characters and habits of private life than is by us old- fashioned Britons considered tasteful and be- coming. Having now, however, passed their infancy, and in literature as well as in social development progressed towards man- hood, it is high time that they should put away childish things. It has always grieved us to see citizens of the great Republic betray so, weak-minded a delight in scrutinizing the costume and dornesticities of English aristo- crats, or the private life and fixings of Amer- ican democrats. In the department of contemporary bio- graphy, it must be confessed our energetic cousins have fairly got the start of us. It seems, in fact, to have attained the rank of an institution among the other beautiful machinery of their political life. When Jullien visits the provinces, he heralds his coming by means of a set of fascinating por- traits, which announce from every print and music-shop window that the great Conductor is at hand. Somewhat similar, but more in- tellectual and elaborate, is the proceeding of th~Ameriean coming man. No aspiring BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. senator now thinks of trying for the Presi- dency without securing in good time the ser- vices of a competent biographer to relate the heroic story of his life, and make his trans- cendent merits known to all whom it may esacern. Even a nieditative hawthorne turns his vision-weaving pen ~to such service, and considers it no way unworthy of his genius to polish off an electioneerin0 biography of Gen- eral Franklin Pierce. So deeply do politics mingle in the current of American life; so sweet to the aspirin0 statesman are the uses of biography! B~~t if the lives of politici s be written for the admiration of mankind and the good of the Stat~, should the lives of the mightier men who make and unmake presidents and governments be esteemed less worthy of that honor Assuredly not. At it then, ye dil- igent Yankee scribes, and hasten to convert into obsolete absurdity the oft-quoted line of the dull old fellow who sang: The world knows little of its greatest men. Let it not henceforth be said, to the reproach of civilization, that the world was i0norant during their lives of the birth and genealogy, the schoolboy adventures and manly freaks, the trials and the triumphs of such men as Horace Greeley and James Gordon Bennett. Be careful to inform us, ye veracious cinder- gatherers for posterity will not pardon the omission the length, breadth, and weight of these remarkable men, their complete phrenologicsl development (so far as the ad- dition of abnormal bumps by hostile shillelabs can permit accuracy) the kind of clothes they wear the kind of pens they write with, whether quill, iron, or brass the ink they use, whether common blue-black or sometimes black-and-blue, or perhaps a cun- ning distillation of ditch-water the attitude in which they sit when discharging their thunder at the heads of kings and cabinets, or composing their delicate inveetives at one another ; in short, let us have perfect daguerreotypes of these supremely interesting and estimable men. Behold! the thing is done, the good work has actually been commenced, There, lying before us, in all the square-rigged ugliness of New York upgettiug, are the first-fruits of this nexv field of biographic enterprise the lives, in two stout volumes, of the two noble kinsmen, the two great Arcadians 67 whose names we have above mentioned. Many of our readers, perhaps not grossly illiterate persons either, will look up and ask, Who are horace Greeley and James Gordon Bennett While duly pitying the limitation of culture implied in such a query, we can- not be too hard on these poor ignoramuses, as we must plead guilty to having been ourselves staggered, in reading American books, by meeting names associated with those of Mil- ton and Aristides, as utterly new to us as was, till recently, that of his majesty Kan~- hameha III., Dci grati~ kinb of the Sandwich Islands. These two men, then, let all such ignoramuses know, are the editors of two widely circulated New York papers the two most widely circulated, we believe, of any in America.* What other claims they have to the honors of biography and the re- membrance of posterity, we shall consider by-and-by. Meantime~ e have to say of the books that they are the most unique things in the way of biography, or indeed of liter- ature, that have come in our way since America, about a year ago, furnished us with the autobiography of one of her smartest cit- izens. They are of very different character as different as the men whose lives they profess to record but in both the biographic muse appears in a state of decided inebriety, highly unbecoming the ancient dignity of her vocation. In the work of Mr. Parton she is what is called half-seas over, unsteadily hila- rious, and amusingly absurd, hiccuping out smart things now and then in a way that is irresistible, thdn suddenly looking grave and uttering sublimities that are still more out- rageously laughable. In the anonymous companion-volume she is far gone toward mortal insensibility; she might be said, in fact, to be in delirium tremens, but that there is not a single flash of the wild energy that diversifies the symptoms of that shocking malady. It is pure dazed stupidity and double-vision from beginning to end. We have met nothing comparable to it in all our experience of biographies. The sole ground on which these volumes claim any notice, contemptible as they both are (though not in equal degree) in matter and treatment, is that which gave some im * Like some people nearer home, each of them (and many another besides them) avers that his paper has the largest circnlation of any jonrual not only in America, hut in the world. Of all statistics, the least credible are those of newspaper proprietors. BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. pertance to the infamous revelations of Bar- num. They are in some degree typical; their sui~jects at lea t are so in a very consid- erable degree representative men of their kind, and so far important. A newspaper editor is in all civilized countries an important personage. We are not going here to enter on an elaborate consideration of the functions and influence of the press so let nobody dread a homily. The subject has been often enough handled well and ill, and lately ~ve have heard ~t good deal about it. We are now-a-days rather given to flourishing I~bout the Fourth Estate. There is a tendency towards cant on this as on all other interest- ing subjects. The Fourth Estate is a grand fact, but let those who have any pretensions to connection with it rather strive to keep it so than talk magniloquently about it. As for those who have not, let them take care that it does its duty, and does not go beyond it. Newspaper editors, we say, are important persona~es; but they are like other human beings, some of them eminent for intellect and virtue, many of them highly respectable for both, others of them dignified by neither. The anomalous and fluctuating conditions of newspaper life make it inevitable that men should sometimes attain high influence in vir- tue of connection with the press, whom nei- ther nature nor education has eminently quali- fied for the guidance of their fellow-men. This applies, of course, peculiarly (though not exclusively) to America, where, on the admirable Irishmans maxim above quoted, everybody is equally fit for everythin~ faith, and a great deal fitter too! where toll-keep- ers and publicans are colonels in the army, and the man who fails as a ratcatcher turns his hand to preaching, and, if that fail also, srrai0htway sets up a newspaper. But though applying peculiarly to the American press, cur statement is not exclusive of Britain. Journalism is becoming, indeed, with us more and more of a recognized profession, a pro- fession, too, calling for special gifts and train- ing gifts and training, ~higher and more liberal, to those who think rightly of their vocation, than do any of the, three hitherto exclusively entitled learned. The press is no more with us, if ever it has been, a kind of literary Diggings, where the outcasts and desperadoes, the halt, the maimed, and the blind, of every other calling, may find a pre- carious refuge and irregular adventurer-work, from forging of thunderbolts to winnowing of ash-buckets. But it is true, nevertheless, that the fundamental conditions of success in this career are compatible with a moral and intellectual standard by no means exalted. It is a common mistake, that high literary ability is the first requisite for editorial suc- cess. The fact is nearly the other way. The first requisite is knowledge of men, the sec- ond confidence, and the third perseverance. Let a man possess the concentrated gifts of a whole academy of belles leltres, and be defi- cient in shrewd practical discernment of what suits the public, he may pipe ever so melodi- ously, but he will get few subscribers to dance. Let him know, or imagine that he knows, ever so well what suits tjiie public, if he have not a quick eye to see what other men are fit for, and how frcr they can be trusted to do his work, he may shut his shop and retire. Let him possess encyclopmdic knowledge, and the readiest flow of winged words, but if he be not a man of hard-work- ing, dogged persistence, he might as well sow the great Sahara as undertake to conduct a newspaper. A paper once fairly established may, indeed, conduct itself successfully, despite an unpractical and easy editor; for good ma- chinery compels even inert matter into activ- ity and order. But to rear a paper into vig- orous existence amid a host of competitors to make bricks without straw, and snatch the bread of victory out of the jaws of famine the editor or conductor must be, in the first place, a man of business it is of very sub- ordinate importance that he be a man of let- ters. Ilence it is sometimes objected, that newspapers, being in so many cas6s me~rely commercial speculations, must necessarily sub- ordinate principle to profit. The objection is neither sound in logic, nor, in this country at least, true in fact. The manufacturer of shawls and blankets is not the less an honest man and estimable citizen because his pri- mary object is not the good of the community but his own private advantage. Ilis shawls and blankets are not the less excellent and indispensable because lie converts them into pelf. If the shawl-manufacturer indeed be- come a power in the State, and begin to ar- rogate high virtue to himself for his services to the public, and to dictate laws in virtue of the prosperity of his~ business, it is reasonable that we should apply to him something anal- ogous to the question, Doth Job fear God BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. for nought? Applying this test to the press of our own country, we arrive, on the whole, at satisfactory conclu~ions. If we do not see so much as we could wish of a grave sense of responsibility, and a careful weighing of facts and motives, we know how much is due to the terrible exigencies of time. This we are assured of, that in no other profession or occupation is there more of manliness and fair play ; in none other is the professional honor so untarnished by the contact of lucre; and, so far as chastity of sentiment and ex- pression is concerned, the freest press in Europe (Mr. Macaulay might have said, in the world) is also the most prudish. Occasional examples of recklessness and violence, of meanness and bad taste, invalidate in no wise the force of this general assertion. News- paper editors and writers are, we repeat, hu- man like others. To expect that they should in every case display faultless wisdom and virtue is a devout imagination, but an ex- tremely vain and irrational one. As to the paltry . s. d. considerations, we have, for our part, often admired, as a striking example of the innate virtue of human nature, despite its depravity, the magnanimous zeal which sustains so many newspaper proprietors in the task of instructing the public at a very swing- ing loss to themselves! The power of the press is greatly aided, as every one knows, by the mystery which shrouds the writer, mergin~j all personality of the individual iu the mysterious plurality of the organ through which he speaks. It is not John or Thomas that proclaims the dan- ger of the nation, the incapacity of aMinis- ter, the justice or injustice of a deed. It is an unknown voice, uttered out of darkness, and therefore formid~ ble the voice not of one, but of many, and therefore claiming re- spect. The voice of ~ Greek tra6edian sounded through his mask more awful than it really was; and the majestic buskin raised a very ordinary figure to the kingly height of Aga- memnon. The we of John or Thomas, through the speaking-trumpet of the Times, becomes a very different pronoun from the Ii of these gentlemen uttered through their individual windpipes. If any argument were necessary to prove that this formidable anony- mousness is not only essential to the liberty of the press, but the true safeguard of its health and honesty, we might point for proof to the Press of those States, whether des- potic or free, where it is not tolerated. In the United States, for example, there is al- most as little anonymous writing as in Paris or Vienna. There is no statute on the sub- ject, and no legal censorship exists, but the state of public feeling makes it almost impos- sible for a man to conceal his personality. The writer may not put his name to his arti- cles, but if he does not, it is only because he finds it unnecessary. Is the press there more honest, more discreet, more tender of individual character than in Britain? No candid American will answer that question with an affirmative. The press of Amer- ica is not the less formidable, not the more honest and scrupulous, that its principal wri- ters are known or notorious men. The character of the two nations is illus- trated by some of their distinctive peculiari- ties in this respect. With us the tendency is to merge the individual in the body with them the notion of liberty is associated with the clear recognition of individual independ- ence. Here the newspaper editor is generally the invisible head of an association there he is a right-well-known entity of flesh and blood, as cowhide and rattan applications have too often most strikingly demonstrated. There the journal is generally his, and his name figures conspicuously at the head of its col- umns here he belongs more frequently to the journal, and, while wielding a great pow- or in the community, his personal existence is a kind of myth, and his name may never have been heard by the great majority of his read- ers. The American editor, on the contrary, must make himself known, or he will not be listened to. All pugnacious republicans must hav~ the means of knowing who it is that abuses them. The occupant of the White house must be made familiar with the name of the man who attacks or defends his policy, whose mouth may be silenced, or whose fidelity rewarded, by a due share of the fed- eral dollars. Let it not be imagined that any uncomplimentoxy remarks we make on the American press are intended to apply uni- versally. So speaking, we should convict ourselves at once of ignorance and dishonesty. There are American newspapers and editors of high and unblemished character, as there are American politicians worthy of a better fate than to be kept waiting three months for the election of a Speaker. But of the American press generally the criticism still BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. holds good, that, while boasting to be the freest in the world, it is in practical thraldom to an inextricably tangled system of demo- cratic terrorism. Improvement there has been, we delight t6 think, within the last dozen yearsso much so, that even papers which were the very offscourings of journal- ism have become, in their European editions at least, fit for decent mortals to read. Out of a total of nearly three thousand papers, circulating among so mixed and changeful a population, it is little wonder, also, that i*iere should be a large class of papers at which a cultivated man of any nation must look with contempt and sorrow. We know too well, from examples in our own colonies as in India and Australia how, in hetero- geneous and young communities, where men of high talent and education seldom resort except in the established paths to success, newspapers are apt to fall into the hands either of government agents or of reckless adventurers, with the natural result, in the one case, of insolence and servility, in the other, of indecent violence and gossiping personality. That, therefore, in a country like the United States, where men of intelli- gence and enterprise are never at a loss for profitable occupation, the press should be left in a great measure to those who can get nothing better to do, need not surprise us; ncr, as the necessary result, that its moral and intellectual standard should hitherto have been such as a civilized and educated nation would, if it were not too busy, and too jealous of foreign criticism, have viewed with consternation as a professed mirror of itself. While willingly grantin~ thus much, the painful fact remains, that the papers which have all alon~ enjoyed the largest share of public countenance in the United States, are those whose conductors have most openly set at defiance every sentiment of justice, decency, and good taste. The mere circula- tion of a journal is not, indeed, a conclusive test of its importance as an oman of public opinion, bat it clearly enough points out what way the taste of the majority lies, and a land of universal suifrane it gauges exactly the amount of its political influence. Our Weekly Dispatch has perhaps twenty readers for the Spectators one, but the one reader probably has more power in the com- monwealth than the twenty. In a common- wealth, on the other hand, where all men are equally good, a hundred thousand Barnums are as good as a thousand centu- ries of Washingtons faith, and in Amer- ican politics, a great dale betther too! Thus it is that the most widely circulated paper becomes the greatest power in the State, and a power to which, even while loathing it, presidents and politicians are forced to bow the knee. Unwilling as we are that Mr. James Gordon Bennett should lose any of the benefit accruing to him from these remarks (which, of course, he will turn duly to account) ~* we have no hesita- tion in saying that they are intended to apply par e ceilence to the organ which, under his consummate management, has resolved one of the most singular problems of modern times. That problem may be stated thus: Given the minimum of literary ability, and the maximum of moral worth- lessness to educe out of their combination a machinery which shall control the politi- cal action of a Great Republic, and attain a leading place among the recognized mouth- pieces of twenty million English-speaking freemen. There is a question of maxima and minima over which Dr. Whewell might puzzle his knowing head till doomsday, if he omitted to take into his calculations an element or two of the plus description! What these elements are, we must, however, leave for after consideration. In the mean time we propose to treat our readers to a few of the biographic delicacies furnished by the considerate Mr. J. Parton. We con- sider his volume in every way entitled to the precedence. It was the first published; and evidently suggested the rival performance. It has all the marks of honesty about it, and, compared with the Life of Bennett, is a perfect chcf-dcmss.cre of ability, its subject, in like manner, if considerably removed from our idea of a hero or a gentleman, is, compared with the editor of the New York Herald, a very Bayard in chivalry, a Job in uprightness. Mr. Parton sets about his work in a very thorough-going manner. The industry with which he has raked together all the informa- tion that could possibly be gathered regard- ing not only Horace Greeley, but Horaces ancestors to the third and fourth ~encration, is quite inconceivable; and his own ingenu- ous account of his preliminary labors is well calculated to awaken, if not the admiration, at least the astonishment of the reader. The style of procedure is exquisitely character- istic; and, as he himself phrases it, the reader has a right to know the manners * We are fully prepared to find Mr. Bennett attributing our unfavorable remarks to a great couspiracy among the aristocratic cliques of Buglaud against Amen- cau institutions in general, aud the JVcee York herald iu particular. This is au old trick; but the Americau public is too sensible any longer to be taken in by such nonsense. Mr. Bennetts pretensions to represent the eneral senti- ments of the United States have nowhere been more indignantly repudiated than in New York. If we im- a~ined that any American whose opinion is worth con- sidering would interpret our criticism as implyin~ any unkindy feeling to his country, these pages should never have seen the light. The objects of our criticism are in- dividual men. BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. thereof. Let us thank heaven that the pro- mulgation of the recipe is not likely here to instigate imitation. First of all, the ingen- ious youth procures, from various sources, a list of Mr. Greeleys early friends, part- ners, and relations; also a list of the places at which he had resided. The young blood- hound! This done, all those places I vis- ited; with as many of those persons as I could find I conversed, and endeavored to extract from them all that they knew of the early life of my hero. From these vera- cious sources this high-minded young scrib- bler compiled the narrative of the great mans early years, not disdaining even to accost drunken old soakers on the high- way who might hiccough out a little tale about Greeley; and where he could not ferret out information on the spot, applying for it by letter. But this was a small portion of the self-imposed labor, which included a dil- igent inspection of the complete files of the New Yorker, Log Cabin, Jeffersonian, Amer- ican Laborer, Whig Almanac, and The Tn- bune,~ nearly every number of which, more than five thousand in all, he carefully cx- amined. After such a course of reading, our wonder is, not that the biographic muse is slightly maudlin, but that she survived to put two sentences together are treated to a preliminary sketch of the history of Londonderry (not omitting the siege), and the Scoto-Irish colony who thence emigrated to New England. To the hasty reader all this may seem highly unnecessary; but to those who are desirous deeply to pen- etrate into a nature so uncommon as that of horace Greeley, it is supremely impor- tant, as we are told that from his maternal ancestors hc derived much that distinguishes him from men in general. Another chap- ter is devoted to the paternal ancestors, re- garding one of whom it is interesting to learn that he was a cross old dog, as cunning as Lucifer, and that he died at the age of sixty-five, with all his teeth sound! At length, at page 33, we come to the great fact of horaces birth. As has been the case with many great men~it was attended with some remarkable circumstances. To these our biographer does full justice. His ac- count of the interesting scene is too fine to be omitted: The mode of his entrance upon the stage of the world was, to say the least of it, unuan. 1. The effort was almost too much for him, and, to use the language of one who was present., he came into the world as black as a chimney. There was no sign of life. He uttered no cry; he made no motion; he did not breathe. But the little discolored stranger had articles to wri.te, and was not permitted to escape his des- tiny. In this alarming crisis of his existence, a kind-hearted and experienced aunt came to his rescue, and by arts, which to kifid-hearted and experienced aunts are well known, but of which the present chronicler remains in ignorance, the boy was brought to life. He soon began to breathe; then he began to blush; and, by the time he had attained the age of twenty minutes, lay on his mothers arm, a red and smiling infant. If the reader does not grant that to be one of the most graceful climaxes in biographie literature, we shall not write another word. Presuming on a general unanimity on this point, we proceed. The red and smiling in- fant in due time of course turned out a prod- igy; he took to learning with the prompt- itude and instinctive irrepressible love with which a duck is said to take to the water, and was able to read before be had learned to talk. In spelling he soon became pre- eminent, and great marvels are recorded of his orthographic prowess. Unfortunately he was less distinguished by those virtues which we usually desiderate in boys. Though never afraid of ghosts, or overawed by superiority of rank or knowledge, he was eminently de- ficient in physical courage. When attacked, he would neither fight nor run away, but stand still and take it ; the report of a gun would almost throw him into convul- sions. Fishing and bee-h untiun were the only sports he cared for, but his love of fishing did not originate in what the Ger- mans call the sport impulse. Other boys fished for sport; horace fished for fish. Bee-huntifig, again, was profitable sport, and horace liked it amazingly. his share of honey generally found its way to the store. his passion for books was generally attributed to indolence, and it was often predicted that h-horace would never get on. Superficial idea! Even in very early life, says Mr. Parton complacently, he gave proof that the Yankee element was strong within him. In the first place, he was always doing something; and in the second, he had always something to sell. Notwithstanding horaces remarkable cleverness, we are told that he was somd- times taken for an idiot a stranger having once inquired, on his enterino a store in a a brown study, what darned fool is that? Even his own father declared that the boy would never know more than enough to come in when it rains. These pleasing anecdotes are given on the authority of a bibulous old wretch, whom the indefatigable Mr. Parton encountered and cross-questioned on the highway. lie was quite drunk at the time, but as the tribute of a sot to the champion of the Maine Law, the old mans harangue was highly interesting. Mr. Parton sets it down to the praise of his hero, BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. that though brought up in the bosom of New England orthodoxy, from the age of twelve he began to doubt, and from the age of fonrteen he was known, wherever he lived, as the champion of Universalism. Ilere the biographer indulges in what he considers appropriate reflections, and points out to his readers the valuable effects of youthful in- fidelity. The boy, he coolly observes, seems to have shed orthodoxy easily. * Horace Greeley was in a fair way of training fer his editorship. The juvenile Universalist had long been ambitious of becoming a printer, and at last obtained a vacant apprenticeship in the office of Mr. Amos Bliss, proprietor of the North- ern Spectator. The great event is described with elaborate circumstantiality. The young tow-head proved a first-rate workman, and presently tried his hand at composition. rue injurious practice of writing com- positions, says his biographer, was not among the exercises of any of the schools which he had attended. Considering the general literary character of editorial writing in the United States, we are not surprised to find an American pronounce the early prac- tice of composition injurious; the sentiment evidently is not peculiar to Mr. Parton. Early attention to style might of course tend to weaken that native force in the use of epithets which apparenfly conduces so much to editorial success. Horace also joined a debating society, where he proved himself a perfect giant. his manners were entire- ly free from aristocratic taint, or any weak tendency to politeness. He stood on no ceremony at the table; he fell to without To the event which gave horace his First waiting to be asked or helped, devoured Lift in the world, the biographer devotes everything right and left, stopped as sudden- a whole chapter. That event was the estab- ly as he had begun, and vanished instantly. lishment of the first Penny Paper. The idea Again, when any topic of interest was or4,inated in the head of an unfortunate started at the table, he joined in it with the medical student afflicted by Providence with utmost confidence, and maintained his opin- ready cash to the amount of fifteen hundred ion against anybody. He never went to dollars. I-horatio David Sheppard, unwisely tea-parties, never joined in an excursion, and neglecting his pestle and scalpel, took to seldom went to church. A most interest- dabbling in newspapers and magazines, and ing young man, on the whole, was horace in due time found himself minus his dollars. Greeley Speculatively musing as he passed through At length the Northern Spectator broke Chatham Street, a great mart of penny down, and the apprentice was left to shift wares, he was struck with the rapid sales for himself. His departure is described in effected by the energetic stall-keepers and quite a choice Minerva-Press style. It was itinerant venders of shoe-laces. Parting with a fine cool breezy morning in the month of an odd cent or penny seemed so natural and June 1830; Nature had assumed those robes easy a proceeding that tIAc offer of any article of brilliant green which she wears only in for that sum seemed irresistible. Might not June, andwelcomed the Wanderer forth with a newspaper be produced at one cent with that heavenly smile which plays upon her certain success? The idea, it must be ad- changeful countenance only when she is at- mitted, was a happy one. As minht have tired in her best. Deceptive smile! & e. & c. been expected, hoxvever, the proposal at first * The North American Review thanks Mr Parton excited unbounded ridicule, and for eighteen warmly for his brave his noble book. Was the orthodox months Dr. Sb eppard could not get one Granule dozing when she read it? man to believe in its feasibility. At last, Horace at length determined to try his for- tune in New York, and with ten dollars in his pocket, a shabby suit on his back, and a small bundle on his stick, landed at sun- rise, on Friday the 18th of August 1831, near the Battery. The biographer, as in duty bound, comes out strong, and Benjamin Franklin with his penny roll appears in the proper place to garnish the story. The princes of the mind, says he, waxing sublime, always remain incog. till they come to the throne. Poor horaces ap- pearance was all ugniust him. Certain- ly, if the vignette representation of the youth with which Mr. Parton has adorned his vol- iame conveys any adequate idea of his aspect that morning, the statement is emphatically true. The prince of the mind was incog. with a vengeance a more calculating and skinny- looking young Yankee it would be difficult to imagine. To the portrait on the opposite page, of the adult Horace in his white great- coat bought from an Irish emigrant ! we must, however, give the palm as a thoroughly characteristic representation of a full-blown Yankee Wilkes-Bentham Social- ist, Maine Law chaiiipion, Vegetarian, Spirit- rappist, and we dont know what else. The following bit of information is important: The gentleman to whose intercession Horace Greeley owed his first employment in New York, is known to all the dentists in the Union as the loading member of a firm which manufactures annually twelve thousand artificial teeth. He has made a fortune, the reader will be glad to learn, and lives in a mansion up town. 72 BIOGRAPHY GONk~ MAD. on New Years Day, 1833, appeared the lant of the American rabble was perfectly Morning Post, published by Greeley and inevitable, and that the new development Story, price two cents. It lived only of journalism was accompanied by marked twenty-one days, dying from pure want of features of superiority is undeniable. The funds. The idea was soon after successfully increase of violence and slander was itself a realized by other speculators, and in a few point of superiority in the eyes of the vulgar years the penny press was able to take society herd, for coarseness passed for strength., by the throat. Its first reception is thus and scurrility for smartness, the Americans described: darling attribute. But, among a people of intense activity and inquisitiveness, the increased energy in the procuring of news (whether true or false) must be looked upon as the chief cause of the immense pop- ularity attained in so few years by the prin- cipal American journals. To this source, rather than to any general predilection for the vile and malicious, would we seek to attribute the extraordinary success of papers in which libel and indecency constituted a regular stock in trade. This is certainly no excuse for the patronage so bestowed, but it at least helps to explain it in a way not utterly destructive of our respect for a whole community. And now, to return to our horace. Of his dignified manners towards his workmen the following may suffice as an example. It is interesting, moreover, as showiub that the extraordinary voracity of his early years had given place to utter indifference to con- siderations so low as the eating of dinner: There was not even the show or pretence of discipline in the office. One of the journeymen made an outrageous caricature of his employer, and showed it to him one day as he came from dinner. Who s that? asked the man. That s me, said the master, with a smile, and passed in to his work. The men made a point of appearing to differ in opinion from him on every subject, because they liked to hear him talk; and, one day, after a long debate, he ex- claimed, Why, men, if I were to say that that black man there was black, you d all swear he was white. He worked with all his former in- tensity and absorption. Often such conversa.. tions as these took place in the office about the middle of the day: (H. G., looking up from his work) Jonas, have I been to dinner? (Mr. Winchester) You ought to know best. I dont know. (H. G.) John, have I been to dinner? (John) I believe not: Has he, Tom? To which Tom would reply no, or yes, according to his own recollection or Johns wink; and if the office generally concurred in Toms decision, Horace would either go to dinner or resume lAs work, in unsuspecting accordance therewith. With that interesting proneness to heresy of all kinds which distinguishes Mr. Greeley, he soon after adopted the semi-vegetarian principles of a certain Rev. Dr. Graham, who, says the biographer, was a discoverei~ When the respectable New Yorker first saw a penny paper, he gazed at it (I saw him) with a feeling similar to that with which an ill-natured man may be supposed to regard General Tom Thumb, a feeling of mingled curiosity and con- tempt; he put the ridiculous little thing into his waistcoat pocket to carry home for the amuse- ment of his family; and he wondered what non- sense would be perpetrated next. If such was the reception of the cheap press among the go-ahead New Yorkers, it need not surprise us that in our own steady- going community it should have been still less favorable. The experience of the last few months, however, has pretty well demonstrated the absurdity of the principal objections. The anticipated peril to the health of society has, as every believer in the national good-sense well knew, proved a chimera. British intellect and morals for- tunately are not dependent on taxes and high price; and the gradual removal of all restrictions on the freedom of the press has only shown more signally that this people needs no legal bridling to keep on the path of decency and order. The number of cheap papers has indeed proved much smaller than was anticipated, few people seeming to have been aware how much energy and capital are required for the establishment of a paying penny paper a fact which was alone sufficient to answer the fears of those who looked in June 1855 for the coming of the Deluge. In New York the case unfortu- nately was far otherwise. The Father of the American Penny Press, if to any one man that the title is due, must be regarded as having treated his country in a way the reverse of what St. Patrick did for Ireland as a male Pandora, in fact, who opened the lid that shut in a countless brood of very hideous creatures. The thing will end well, we hope, as we hope for a millennium; and improvement, as we have admitted, there already is. But that the birth of the cheap press in America was followed by a deluge of quackery, virulence, and indecency which has not yet entirely subsided, is a fact written in disgraceful characters on pages innumer- able, and legible on the skins of men now living, had they not been tougher than bisons hide. That such should have been the result of cheapening the favorite stimu 73 74 of the facts, that most of us are sick, and that none of us need be; that disease is im- pious and disgraceful, the result in almost every instance of folly or crime. The italics are Mr. Partons, whose digestion, it is to be hoped, is unexceptionable. At length, early in 1834, Horace, with two partners, started the New Yorker, a weekly paper, incomparably the best of its hind that had ever been published in this country; so good, in fact, that after seven years of hard struggle it gave up the ghost. We would rather believe that its want of success was due to the incompetency of its management; but if the editor was in the habit of uttering such unpalatable truth as is contained in the following specimen, we are afraid it must be conceded with the biographer that the New Yorker was not half enough spicy, or fawning: The ~rcat pervading evil of our social con- dition is the worship and the bigotry of Opinion. While the theory of our political institutions asserts or implies the absolute freedom of the human mind the right not only of free thought and discussion, but of the most unre- strained action thereon within the wide bounda- ries prescribed by the laws of the land, yet the practical commentary upon this noble text is as discordant as imagination can conceive. Beneath the thin veil of a democracy more free than that of Athens in her glory, we cloak a despotism more pernicious and revolting than that of Turkey or China. It is the despotism of Opinion. The New Yorker having never, during its whole term of existence, reached the paying point, the poor editor was obliged to keep t.he pot boiling by other means. In 1838 he undertook the sole charwe of the f~ffersonian, a paper of a class peculiar to America, and denominated Campaign Papers. The noble purpose of the Jeffersonian is thus described by Greeley himself: It was estab- lished on the impulse of the Whig tornado of 1837, to secure a like result in 1838, 50 as to give the XVhig party a Governor, Lieu- tenant-Governor, Senate, Assembly, United States Senator, Congressmen, and all the executive patronage of the State, then amounting to millions of dollars ayear.~~ The Jeffersonian existed only one year, having served its end. The labors of the editor were enormous, no one but a Greeley could have endured it all. In 1840 he started another Campaign Paper, in the interest of General Harrison. The absorption of The editorial mind during this exciting season is illustrated by another of those graceful anecdotes, in which our biographer delightsrelating how Mr. Greeley arrives late at a political tea-party (Sunday evening), and straightway plunges BIOGRAPHY GONE MAID. into a conversation on the currency; how the worthy landlady asks him in vain to take tea; how she begs him to try a cruller any how, and is rudely repulsed; how she places a large basket of these un- known delicacies on his knees, and he mechanically devours every morsel; how, fearing the consequences, she substitutes for the cruller basket a great heap of cheese; how the remarkable boa-constrictor gobbles it all up; and how, finally, he was none the worse of it all. Anecdotes, says Mr. P., are precious for biographical purposes. The Log Cabin had a circulation of from 80,000 to 90,000, and yet such was the easy virtue of the subscribers that the proprietor made nothing by it, and the last number contained a moving appeal to the friends who owe us. Such, also, is political grati- tude, that Mr. Greeley did not even receive the offer of an office in acknowledgment of his valuable services, at which his biographer is duly disgusted. He adds the following significant anecdote: i\Ir. Fry (W. II.) made a speech one even- ing at a political meeting in Philadelphia. The next morning a committee waited upon him to know for what office he intended to become an applicant. Office? said the astonished com- poser no office. Why, then, said the committee, what the hli did you speak last night for? Mr. Greeley had not even the honor of a visit from a committee of this kind. Mr. Greeley at length ventured on the bold experiment of starting a new daily paper. There were already eleven in New York; but a cheap Whig paper was wanted, and ac- cordingly, on the 10th April 1841, appeared the New York Tribune, price one cent. It began with only six hundred subscribers, and encountered much opposition, but was from its inception very successful. The Tribune, says Mr. Parton, was a live paper, and it prospered by opposition. FlouT was the word with it from the start FionT has been the word ever since FionT is the word this day. One thing was wanting to success an efficient business-partner. Such a man was found in the person of Mr. Thomas MElrath. The biographer shouts and rubs his hands with ecstasy at such a combination of excellence as was now realized. Hear him: Roll Horace Greeley and Thomas MElrath into one, and the result would be, a very respect- able approximation to a Perfect Man. The Two, united in partnership, have been able to produce a very respectable approximation to a perfect * The meaning of the words whig, Democrat, and the combination in the same individuals of whig and Protectionist, Conservative and Democrat, are somewhat pnzziing to those who have not studied the complicated subject of American politics. 75 BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. newspaper. As Damon and Pythias are the types of perfect friendship, so may Greeley and MElrath be of a perfect partnership; and one may say, with a sigh at the many discordant unions the world presents, 0 that every Gree- icy could find his MElrath! and blessed is the MElrath that finds his GreeleyV And woe to the Greeley that finds his Parton! For a complete history of this respectable approximation to perfection, says Mr. Par- ton, ten octavo volumes would be required, and most interesting volumes they would be. Mr. Parton gives us instead the small dose of over 200 octavo pages, and we are bound to say that it is at least 190 too many. In these weary sheets the curious will find a full acount of Mr. Greeleys exer- tions in defence of Fourierism, Whig~ism, Teetotalism, Anti-Slavery, Womans Rights, and Irish Rebellion, his libels on Fenimore Cooper, his motions in Con~ress, his lectures, his European travels, his personal appear- ance, his private habits, & c. & c. For Irish Repeal, among other good causes, the Tribune fought like a tiger, the magnanimous editor accepting a place in the Directory of the Friends of Ireland, to the funds of which he contributed liberally.~~ Mr. Greeley is not a warlike man, as his boyish experiences have indicated, but incen- diarism and bloodshed in British territory are things for which he willingly sacrifices a few dollars. Our readers are aware that the publication of the wildest fictions, pleas- antly denominated hoaxes, constitutes an attractive element in American journal- ism. In August 1848, New York red-repub- licanism was on the tiptoe of expectation for important news of the Irish rebellion. The fortunate Tribune obtained exclusive in- telligence, and hastened to publish, with due glorification, a flaming account of the great battle of Slievenamon (afterwards known as Slievegammon), in which 6000 British troops were killed and wQunded. For a day or two the Irish and the friends of Ireland exulted; but when the truth be- came known, their note was sadly changed. The editor, we learn, was absent at the time, but there is no doubt he would have exulted as much as any man to hear of the stench of a three-mile shambles of British soldiers. His tone on the subject of the Russian war has betrayed no weak sympathy with the Western combatants; and doubtless he takcs a brotherly interest in the insane and detest- able conspiracies now or lately hatching among the unhappy exiles of Erin. In November of that year, Mr. Greeley was elected to a seat in Congress, by a machinery the corruption of which is testified by no less a person than himself. He was very active as a member, and soon made himself prominently obnoxious by exposing various legislative jobs. 5ome of the lively scenes that occurred are described at immense length. Mr. Parton draws no flattering con- clusion from the reception of his hero in the House of Representatives. Let our Ameri- can friends console themselves with the as- surance that his testimony is not decisive. An honest man in the House of Representa- tives of the United States seemed to be a foreign element, a fly in its cup, an ingredient that would not mix, a novelty that disturbed its peace. It struggled hard to find a pretext for the expulsion of the offensive person; but not finding one, the next best thing was to en- deavor to show the country that Horace Greeley was, after all, no better than members of Con- gress generally. In 1849, the Tribune, with its habitual predilection for the fanatical and revolution- ary, or, as Mr. Parton loftily phrases the thing, true to its instinct of giving hospi- tality to every new or revived idea, devoted large space to the promulgation of Proud- hons delightful ideas on the subject of Prop- erty. Among other things~ also, says our chronicler, it began a rejoinder to the Even- ing Post in the following spirited manner, the only specimen we choose to quote of Mr. Greeleys vituperative abilities: You lie, villain! wilfully, wickedly, basely lie! This observation, placidly remarks the historian, called forth much remark at the time. The person to whom it was ad- dressed was William Cullen Bryant. With the same instinctive hospitality towards every form of delusion, the Tribune opened its ac- commodating columns to the Spirit-Rappers, who, notwithstanding a fcw hundrcd cases of insanity and other small evils, have, in Mr. Partons opinion, done much good. About the same time it took up the Womans Rights humbug, ncknowled5,ing that the ladies are perhaps unwise in making the de- mand, but maintaining that no sincere re- publican can give an adequate reason for refusing them an equal participation with men in political rights. A whole chapter is devoted to Mr. Greeleys platform exhibi- tions, which it seems are very frequent and edifying Horace having, as Mr. Parton tells us, a benevolent appreciation of the delight it gives to see the man whose writ- ings have charmed and moved and formed us. Not only does he lecture as often as possible, but At public meetings and public dinners Mr. Greeley is a frequent speaker. His name usual- ly comes at the end of the report, introduced with Horace Greeley being loudly called for, BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. made a few remarks to the following purport. The call is never declined; nor does he ever speak without saying something; and when he has said it, he resumes his scat. The remarkable man! In 1851, Horace went to see the Worlds Fair in Hyde Park. No foolish curiosity or sentimentality instigated the philosophic ed- itor; his main object, as announced (the American editor keeps his readcrs regularly informed on all his movements) in the Tri- bune, being to inspect the improvements recently made, or now being made, in the modes of dressing flax and hemp, and prepar- ing them to be spun and woven by steam or water power. The departure and passage are carefully described; Mr. Parton having apparently paid a steward to note, watch in hand, all the phenomena of Horaces sea-sickness. Nothing that he saw in this effete country seems to have in the least impressed his great mind. The royal procession would have faded before a parade of the New York Firemen or Odd Fellows. The Queen he patronizingly noticed, and was even glad to see, though he could not but feel that her vocation was behind the intellibence of the age, and likely to go out of fashion at no distant day; but not, poor thing! through h~ee fault. The posts of honor nearest her person should have been confided, he thought~ to the descendants of Watt and Arkwright; the foreign ambassadors should have been the sons of Fitch, Fulton, Whitney, Daguerre, and Morse, & c. & c. Hampton Court he thought larger than the Astor House, but less lofty, and containing fewer rooms. Westminister Abbey was a mere barbaric profusion of lofty ceilings, stained windows, carvin~, graining, and all manner of contrivances for absorbing labor and money; less adapted for public wor- ship than a fifty thousand dollar church in New York. He gives credit to the Eng- lish for many good qualities, but thinks them a most un-ideal people, he, the romantic Greeley! lie liked the amiable women of England, so excellent at the fire- side, so tame in the drawing-room; but he doubts whether they could so much as com- prehend the ideas which underlie the womans rights movement. (The amiable women of England may well console themselves un- der a doubt so complimentary to their com- mon-sense.) In Paris the great man was apparently in better humor, devoting two days to the Louvre a wonderful fact. His great political sagacity shines forth in his estimate of French affairs in June 1851. France he found as tranquil and prosper- ous as England herself; as for fear from Louis Napoleon, he marvels at the obliquity of vision whereby any one is enabled, stand- ing in this metropolis, to anticipate the sub- version of the Republic. In Italy his first remark was, that he had never seen a region so much in want of afew subsoil ploughs. Edinburgh, it seems, was honored, before his return to New York, by a visit from this great unknown; and we are proud to learn that it surpassed his expectations. In the composition of this work, says our judicious biographer, I have, as a rule, abstained from the impertinence of pane- gyrie. When, therefore, he tells us that the rolling together of Greeley and MElrath, after the manner of a dumpling, would result in something like perfection; that Greeley is too much in earnest to be a perfect editor; that he is a Bonn LEGIs- LATOR, and could save a nation, but never learn to tie a cravat; that he is New Yorks most distinguished citizen, the Countrys most influential man, and editor of the best paper in existence; that, in short, he is the Franklin of this generation Franklin liber- alized and enlightened, we are to take these statements as the sober expression of bare hard fact; and the reader is left to conclude from them how much might have been said by a more partial and weak- minded biographer his imagination is left to fill up the outline of a Greeleys per- fections! But does the reader wish to see the man himself to know his height and wei~ht, not metaphorically, but actually in British feet and inches, and in pounds avoirdupois? So pleasant and laudable a desire the amiable Parton is far from disappointing; for does not the great man say that there s no use in any mans writing a biography unless he can tell what no one else can tell. Here, then, reader, you have it, what no one else assuredly could, would, or should dream of telling you but the inimitable, the unap- proachable Parton: Horace Greeley stands five feet ten and a half inches, in his stockings. lie weighs one hundred and forty-five pounds. Since his re- turn from Europe in 1851, he has increased in weight, and promises to attain, in due time, something of the dignity which belongs to am- ~ litude of person. lie stoops considerably, not from age, but from a constitutional pliancy of the back-bone, aided by his early habit of in- cessant reading. In walking, he swings or sways from side to side. Seen from behind, he looks, as he walks with head depressed, bended back, and swaying gait, like an old man; an illusion which is heightened if a stray lock of white hair escapes from under his hat. But the expression of his face is singularly and engag- ingly youthful. His complexion is extremely fair, and a smile plays ever upon his coun- tenance. His head, measured round the org ne of Individuality and Philoprogenitiveness, is twenty-three and a half inches in circumference, which is considerably larger than the average. His forehead is round and full, and rises into a high and ample dome. The hair is white, in- clining to red at the ends, and thinly scattered over the head. Seated in company, with his hat off, he looks not unlike the Philosopher he is often called; no one could take him for a common man. Now, then, reader, if you do not give us credit for introducing you to the acme of modern biography, we pronounce you the most ungrateful and least discriminating of human beings. If Horace Greeley were a flower, says J. P., botanists would call him single, and examine him with interest. He is what the Germans sometimes style a nature. And if J. P. also were a flower, botanists would inevitably pronounce him a tulip. He is what in Scotland we sometimes call a natural otherwise known as a balling; or, in vernacular English, a born fool. Horace Greeley is not, to our mind, a person very agreeable or very venerable; but intensely as we dislike his bad qualities, and those of his paper (in some respects a good one very attentive, in its own peculiar way, to literature, and ex- cellently printed *), his dreary fanaticism and vul~arity, his bigoted Yankecism, his strong an ti-British feeling much as we dis- like all this, we do not like to see him made absolutely ridiculous, had he no other good quality than the pleasure he takes in farm- ing. We are not surprised, however, to learn that he has few friends, and no cronies. His biographer, at least, is not among the former; for any man would ac- cept his chance against a Kentucky rifle sooner than a biography at the hands of Mr. J. Parton. There is this comfort, at least, that Horace Greeley has. no pleasures, so called, and suffers little pain, otherwise, we imagine, the admiring scribbler would not, with such inconceivable indelicacy, have opened the doors of his closet, and exhibited him in puns ncturalibus to the gaze of the world. Turn we now to the veracious record of the Life and Adventures of the Jack Ketch of editors, the redoubtable and happily un- paralleled James GordonBennett, with whom, for several reasons, we must be brief. The author has of course sought no counsel from * Of the printing-office and editorial rooms Mr. Parton gives a minute account, not failing to give us the names and describe the personal attractions of all the leading officials, including the distinguished foreman, Mr. T. Rooker, who warns gentlemea desiring to wash and soak their distributing matter, to use the metal galleys he has cast for that purpose! It took the world, says Mr. P., an unknown number of .thousand years to arrive at that word GENTLEMEN. what a pity that some smart man does not write a little book on The Flunkeyism of Democracy.~~ 77 Mr. Bennett, nor any one connected with him. The work is a pure labor of love, a spontaneous act of literary justice to the character of a noble and much maligned man. The former statement we perfectly believe, as we imagine the consultation would naturally proceed from and not to the sub- ject of the memoir. As to the spontaneity, there can be little doubt that the work was prompted by the dumpy and infatuated vol- ume of which we have attempted faintly to shadow forth the beauties, as to justice, no man is more dreadfully in earnest for justice than when he defends himself. The motto prefixed from Dr. Johnson is admira- ble: History, which draws a portrait of living manners, may perhaps he made of greater use than the solemnities of professed morality, and convey the knowledge of vice and virtue with more efficacy than axioms and definitions. Which being applied to the present case, may be interpreted to sig-. nify that the life of a notorious blackguard is more eloquent than a sermon of Dr. Blair, and conveys the knowledge of virtue, through the exhibition of its contrary, with more impressiveness than all the proverbs of Solo- mon In this sense the Life of Mr. James Gordon Bennett might, in faithful and com- petent hands, do as much good as the New- gate Calendar, or Defoes Autobiography of an Unfortunate Female, it might carry along with it, as this preface says, not a few valuable lessons. Unhappily, however, the genius of this biographer is utterly un- equal to the subject, and instead of a lifelike and instructive portraiture, he has produced a senseless and incredible daub. More speak- ing by far is the portrait which front~ the title-page. It represents in sharp outline the face of a hard-headed, heavy-browed, obstinate man; vulpine sagacity in the wrinkles of the mouth and fhe corners of the eyes; long upper-lip and heavy under-jaw, and bold vulturine nose seeming to scent carrion from afar. The eyes are upturned in sculptured lifelessness in artistic justice, we presume, to that unfortunate ophthalmic defect known as a diabolical squint. The portrait, we say, is better than the book, and tells, though probably a flattering like ness, a clearer and more honest story. Is it not, inquired Mr. Dickens in New York, a very disgraceful circumstance that such a man as So-and-so should be acquiring a large property by the most infamous and odious means, and, notwithstanding all the crimes of which he has been guilty, should be tolerated and abetted by your citizens? He is a public nuisance, is he not ?Yes, sir. A convicted liar? Yes, sir. lie has been kicked, and cuffed, and caned ? Yes, sir. And he is utterly dishonorable, debased, and BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. 78 profligate? Yes, sir. In the name of won- der, then, what is his merit ? 14/eli, sir, he is a smart man! Such is the satisfactory solution of the problem to which we have already alluded, the solution of the Barnum phenomenon, and with it of all analogous phenomena. Similar is the testimony of the smart young man whom we have just parted with. Every race, he says, has its own ideas respecting what is best in the character of a man. . . . When a Yankee would be- stow his most special commendation upon another, he says, That is a man, sir, who generally succeeds in what he undertakes. Let no delicate and high-minded person, therefore, be astonished that such a man as James Gordon Bennett, whom the respecta- bility of New York has for twenty years loathingly patronized, should have attained a commanding position among the spiritual powers of the American Republic. He is a man of undeniable stuartuess not in our sense, for we have never seen a line of his composition that exhibited anything above what could be called third-rate medi- ocrity of thought and style, but in the sense of keen appreciation of means and ends, au- dacious scheming, impenetrability to shame, and invincible endurance of chastisement. His inflictions in this respect, both moral and physical, he has uniformly turned to the best account ; in a sense different from that of the Psalmist, he ca~ say that it was good for him to be afflicted. No man probably ever made more dollars by the proclamation of his own discrace. A mere catalogue of the horse-whippings he has undergone during his long career of inglory, would astonish the nerves of our readers. Each new in- fliction has been prominently blazoned in the columns of the Herald, and the attractive words, Cow-llinzn AGAIN!!! have been * On this suhject the hiograpicy maintains, with one or two exceptions, a prudent reserve. One pathetic descrip- tion is attempted of the old sinner, as he stood in his edi- torial rooms in Nassau Street, while from his head was crashed the bleed that incarnadined the cusses of fifty winters. After the washing of his headpiece, the in- vincihle editor coolly sat (lawn to narrate the aseassina- tionin his own choice style for the henefit of his readers. rise following may pass as a specimen of his manner. James watson Webb, editor of the Conner and En- quirer, was an old comrade of the writers. As I was leisurely pursuing my husineos yesterday, in wall Street, collecting the information which is (icily die- seminate(i in the herald, James watson Webb came up to me on the northern sidc of tim street, said osmethin~ which I COul(l not hear distioctiy, then pushed me down the stone steps leading to one of the hrskers offices, and commenced fighting with a species of brutal arol demoniac (leoperation characteristic of a fury. My damage is a scratch, about three-quarters of an inch in length, on the third finger of the left hand, which I recsive(l from the iron railin~ I was forced a~ainst, and three buttons torn teem my vest, which any tailor xviii rein- state for a sixpence. Ills loss is a rent from top to bottom of a very heautiful black coat, which cost the ruffian forty dollars, and a blocv in the face, which may have knocked down his throat some of his infernal teeth for anything IL kuow. Balance in my favor, 39 dollars 94 cents. BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. duly followed by a rush of buyers, and a cheering flow of cents into the pockets of the complacent victim! On this subject his own testimony and that of his biographer are singularly frank and decided: Since I knew myself, all the real approba- tion I sought for was my own. If my con- science was satisfied on the score of morals, and my ambition on the matter of talent, I always felt easy. On this prinerifile I have acted from my youth up, and on this principle I mean to die. Nothing can disturb my equanimity. I know myselfso does the Almighty. Is not that enough? This, says the biographer, is not the language and spirit of a common mind. It is the essence of a philosophy which has not deserted a man who has never failed to re- publish every slander against himself, and who has been conscious always that calum~ nies cannot outlive and overshadow truth. A man whose conscience seems never to have given him much trouble, and whose ambition has been satisfied with the acquisi- tion of wealth and political power, may well feel easy under the whips and scorns of a whole universe! This is assuredly, and we rejoice to think so, not the language and spirit of the majority of mankind. Those only despise the approbation of their fellows who have shaken off the attributes of hu- manity, and accept the reverse of the proverb that a good name is rather to be chosen than great riches. The impious allusion to the Almighty is worthy of a Couthon or a Marat.* The success of such a journal as the New York Herald is an undeniable blot on the community on whose follies and vices it bat- tened into prosperity. The damning fact cannot be denied, that it was not~ in spite but on account of their scandalous character that such journals fir~t attracted public attention, and secured a hearing. While, therefore, ~#e diminish not a jot our abhorrence of the men who reared these monuments of their own infamy, we are bound to regard them as but the concentrated type of the character that pervaded their constituency. If the New York Herald was unprincipled and ob- scene, the readers of the New York Herald must have shared in these qualities. Its conductor may have been a scoundrel, but he certainly was no fool; he fed his readers with suclm food as suited their taste. Had Mr. Bennett, it would appear, is not indeed utterly free from the human feeling of love of approbation the approbation, however, of peculiar characters. Mr. OConnell insulted him at a great Repeal gathering in Pub- his, hy saying, when his card was presented, We dont want him here. He is one of the conductors of one of the vilest Gazettes ever published by infamous publishers. Poor Bennett was ill for some days in Scotland probably, thinks the tender biographer, in consequence of this unexpected repulse from a heather demagogue. BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. that taste been purer, he was knowing enough to have provided cleaner fare: in a grave and religious community he would probably have preached with unctuous decorum. Already the taste of that community has improved (no thanks, assuredly, to him); the deluge of vituperation and indecency has subsided, and the New York Herald has followed the temper of the time. It may not, as the helpless bi& ~rapher tells us it is, be a fa- miliar journal at every court throughout the world, and in all ilatelligent communities, but, compared with its former self, it is pos- itively respectable. Granting, therefore, that James Gordon Bennett was as disreputable an editor as Dr. Fausts great patron ever let loose upon man- kind, it is both philosophically and histori- cally just that we should regard him, as Germans would say, not as an isolated phe- nomenon, but as a highly-remarkable-and-in- itself-much-embracing-development of social existenee. The half-apologetic statements on this subjeet by the biographer, who is in general so preposterous in his partiality and admiration as to be utterly beyond criticism, are among the most curious things in the book. After describing the state of society and of journalism previous to 1833, he says: A more fortunate position of circumstances cannot be imagined than that which presented itself for Mr. Bennetts talents at this period. He had been moulded by events and experience to take a part in the change which the Press was about to undergo. Mr. Bennett was prepared in every way for the occasion. He had been just so far injured as to urge him to take hold of the world with but little mercy for its foibles, and with so little regard to its opinions that he could distinguish himself by an original course in Journalism. He felt as Byron did after the Scotch Reviewers had embittered his soul by their harsh treat- ment of his Hours of Idleness. This was a mo& 4 highly favorable to the production of a rare effect. The dormant spirit 6f the people could only be awakened by something stasitling and novel, and circumstances had produced a man for the times. The early numbers of the Herald, we are told, were agreeable, pleasantly written, and comparatively prudish. The habits of the editor wore exemplary. Finding that this sort of thing was no go, the astute adventurer took a bolder course, and flung aside those trammels of decency and mod- eration which would have impeded or ruined the prospects of a weaker and less original mind. The biographer admits that his hero behaved somewhat grossly, but argues, as one might plead in defence of a vampire or a cobra-de-eapello, that ~e merely used the weapons which nature had given him, and 79 that at any rate he was no worse than his neighbors. The improved taste of the present hour will not sanction the mode in which Mr. Bennett at first undertook to be the censor of society: but a philosophical analysis of the means which were used in his peculiar and eccentric course (!) exhibits motives as the springs of action, which do not necessarily indicate a callous heart or a bad temper. . . . That Mr. Bennett had been provoked to use any and all power at his com- mand, to overturn the wanton assailants of his character, cannot be denied. He had but armed himself with the best instruments Heaven had bestowed upon him, and his mode of warfare was quite as dignified as that which had been resorted to, and adopted for fifteen or twenty years before, by the Press generally. If;~nstead of the blasphemous word Heav- en we substitute another more congruous to the nature of the subject, the above may be taken as a sufficiently philosophical view of the point at issue. A little farther on there is a still clearer admission. After tellirfg us that the public did not care for political articles in such small sheets asthe herald, the biographer shows how it became necessary for Mr. Bennett to fill his pap& r with falsehood and obscenity: It would have been folly, therefore, to have attempted to make a daily offering to the public of a newspaper, such as is accepted even at the present hour. Mr. Bennett saw this he felt it. He wrote to create an interest for himself and the Herald. In this he was pecuniarily wise, for had he taken a more dignified course, and thus have produced only suck studied ar- tides as he h contributed to the Courier and Enquirer, from 1829 to 1832, the Herald would not have existed for a single month, un- less sustained by a sacrifice of capital which it was not in the power of Mr. Bennett to com- mand. All of his success depended upon his making a journal wholly different from any one that was in existence. And in that attempt the enterprising ed- itor succeeded to a miracle, for certainly anything approaching to the Herald in its peculiar character, the literature of civ- ilization had not seen! ThnX there may be no mistake on the matter, the biographer, in summing up the transcendent merits of ~Jr. Bennett near the close of the volume, assures us that the course pursued was perfectly deliberate: On the 5th of May 1835, he commenced his work of regeneratioie by publishing the first number of the New York Herald, which, till it was established, was conducted with such pe- culiarities as secured it attention peculiarities which seemed to have sprung from a mind re- solved to carry out certain broad personal characteristics, which in themselves furnish the BIOGRAPHY GONE MAD. bitterest satire upon the true nature of political and social life known to the literature of any age or country. The course adopted was not based on impulse. There is no excuse for it on that ground. It was the fruit of the most care- ful reflection, as is proved by the fact that the original prospectus has not been departed fro in any point whatever during a period of twen- ty years. The original design was to establish a journal which should be independent of all parties, and the influence of which should be grounded upon its devotion to the popular will a plan which has found numerous imitators, and which is the only one suited to satisfy the demands of the public. Mr. Bennett, who of course endorses these sentiments, is thus, it is evident, as much at ease in his conscience with re- gard to his past conduct as ever, and would, if the thing were to be dcmne over again, do it con amore again. The popular will not Truth or Righteousness; the most sweet voices of the rabble, not the still small voice of the man within the breast that, then, is the creed of this regenerator of jour- nalism Apage Satana. The best type of Scottish character is em- inently distinguished by force and earnest- ness; but as a Scotobman, when he is good, is intensely so a Scotebman, when he sells himself to Clooty, is perhaps of all human beings the most devoted servant of that per- sonage. Scotland, which has produced such eminent examples of genius and nobleness in this century as Thomas Chalmers and John Wilson, bad the misfortune to give birth also to James Gordon Bennett. Let her not grieve, for the same England that gave birth to John Milton was the mother likewise of Titus Oates. DEPOPULATION.The antiquity of the outcry on this subject is proved by a proclamation, 1st June, secoad year of Edward VI.: Whereas, in time past, ten, twenty, yea, in some places, a hundred or two hundred Chris- tian people hath been inhabiting and kept house- hold to the bringing furth and nourishing of youth, and to the replenishing and fulfilling of his majestys realms with faithful subjects . now there is nothing kept but sheep and bul- locks: all that land which heretofore was tilled and occupied with so many men, and did bring forth not only diverse families in w& ~k and labor, but also capons, hens, chickens, pigs, and other such furniture of the mercats, is now gotten, by insatiable greediness of mind, into one or two mens hands, and scarcely dwelt upon with one poor shepherd; so that the realm thereby is brought to a marvellous desolation., houses decayed~ parishes diminished, the force of the realm weakened, and Christian people, by the greedy covetousness of some men, eaten up and devoured by brute beasts, and driven from their houses by sheep and bullocks, & c. THE SWEEPINGS or ScIENcE. The ilatest ac- counts from New South Wales include a list of donations to the Australian Museum; which seems to promise to comprise as large a b~andle of miscellaneous rubbish,~ as some of the infant Museums in our provincial towns are found to contain. The first item of a startling nature that caught our attention is A centipede presented by Master Keon. Andye cordially congratulate that young gen tleman on having got the Centipede off his hands. .JJ,ow Master Keon became possessed of the Ceitipede is a puzzle to us; but that his Mamma should have exclaimed, Take away the nasty creature, and that young Keon should have straightway carried it off to the Museum and presented it to the authorities, is all natural enough. The next article, as the linendrapers say, when they insist on showing you the whole contents of a warehouse, when you want to purchase a quarter of a yard of edgings or any other trifle; the next ar- ticle is A native dress from the Feejees. Presented by Captain W. Lee. No description is given of the dress in ques- tion; but, judging from our own experience of aboriginal costume, we should say that the na.- tive dress would probably consist of a bunch of feathers, a few beads, and an old door-mat, in which the forest chieftains are generally sat- isfied to make their appearance, when they think it wQrth while to attempt any toilette at all. Another contributor to the Museum has liber- ally placed the portions of an egg-shell at the disposal of the trustees. Some bits of egg- shell do not promise at first sight a very rich re- past to the lovers of science; but the fragments in question derive some interest from the state- ment that they formed a part of the habitation of some very strange bird, now said to be ex- tinct. We must admit that the Australians are not very far behind us as collectors of rub- bish with scientific names, and with a few black beetles on pins, the Museum may be considered as almost complete. Punch. THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. From the Dublin University Magazine. THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. A MAN may escape from the rope or the gun, Nay, some have outlived the doctors pill; but who can escape death or bonds, if the doctor, speaking from the vantage ground of the witness-box, shall pronounce him to be worthy of either~ It becomes daily more difficult to reply satisfactorily to this question, for almost every day brings its evidence that the doctor is growing more and more ambi- tions to carry his science into courts of law. We confess to many a painful reflection upon this subject, when it has been brought within the circle of our thoughts by passing occur- rences; but, surrounded as it is by many difficulties, we have not yielded to an inclina- tion to discuss it with our readers, until the circumstances of one of the most remarkable criminal trials upon record have, in a man- ner, forced it upon the public attention. In the Great Burdon slow poisoning case, as it has been named, we have an instance, as far as we know, singular, in which a prose- cution for murder was carried on with un- exampled acrimony, from a basis of medical testimony alone, together unsupported by moral or circumstantial evidence ; or rather, we should say, in direct opposition to the strongest probabilities and most obvious facts, and in the entire absence of even a shadow of direct proof. A short, connected state- ment of the circumstances, as they were de- veloped in protracted investigations, before three legal tribunals, carried on with the aid of the highest forensic skill, and with no small bitterness on the part of the prosecu- tors, will, we expect, show that we do not lay down this position without sufficient warrant. Mr. Joseph Snaith Wooler, a gentleman of independent means and middle rank, now forty-five years of age, married eighteen years ago Jane Brecknell, a lady of suitabte posi- tion, and about the same age, the daughter of a surgeon. They went together to India, for what purpose does not appear; but upon their return, some seven or eight years since, they settled at Great Burdon, in the county of Durham, a neighborhood in which both husband and wife were known, and where each of them was within reach of near rela- tives. There they resided constantly, with the exception of one or two short visits to friends, up to the period of Mrs. Woolers DCXX. LIVING AGE. VOL. xiii. 6 81 death in June last; and there Mr. Wooler continued to reside for a month subsequent to that event, when he was arrested upon an information made by his brother-in-law, Mr. William Henry Brecknell, charging him with the murder of the deceased lady, by the wil- ful administration of poison. Mr. and Mrs. Wooler had no children; they were both constitutional invalids, careful of their health and fond of medical attendance and treatment. They seem to have been mutually necessary to each other as nurses ; and the strongest evidence of their having always lived together in the most harmonio~s and affectionate man- ner was given by the witnesses for the prosecu- tion. No attempt was made to refute this testimony, and it was admitted upon all hands that it was absolutely impossible to imagine any motive to the alleged crime. I freely confess, said Mr. James in open- ing the case against Mr. Wooler, that, from the first to the last, I cannot suggest a motive. The conduct of the prisoner evinces apparently a feeling of the strongest affection. I am not aware that there had been any quarrel between him and his wife. II am not aware that they led other than a happy life, and were considered an affectionate couple. ~ As this confession was made by a learned counsel, against some of whose statements, as being unsupported by evidence, the judge very pointedly cautioned the jury, it may be taken as proof that ingenuity, sharpened by con- siderable zeal; had failed to discover the slightest moral basis for suspicion of the prisoners guilt. Mr. Wooler had no insur- ance upon his wifes life. According to his own deposition before the coroner, which was not contradicted, he lost a small annuity by her death. He had no attachment to the indulgence of which she was an obstacle. The amplest and most trustworthy evidence showed that she was a faithful wife, a kind companion and nurse, an active and trusted mistress of his household. Under these circumstances, Dr. Jackson, a general practitioner that is, a person who combines the practice of medicine with the compounding and selling of dru0s was called in to attend Mrs. Wooler on the 8th ~ We quote from the Durham County Advertiser, for Dec. 14, 1855. To the careful report of the trial in that journal, and to an equally careful report of the investiga- tion before the magistrates at Darlington, reprinted from the Darlington and Stockton Times, we are chiefly in- debted for a knowledge of the facts of this extraordinary case. 82 THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESg-BOX. of May. He had seen her professionally once acquainted with the fact that a similar idea or twice before, and he found her, as he had occurred to his mind, they had a conver- thought, then, suffering from influenza and sation upon the subject. Nevertheless, upon disordered stomach, for which he treated her. the 6th of June, Mr. Henzell and Dr. Jack- She had difficulty of breathing, slight redness son consulted with Dr. Devy, a medical about the eyes, and a very quick pulse; the gentleman of Wolsingham, who visited Mrs. remedies he gave her were, according to his Wooler at the request of her husband, and own statement, effervescing magnesia, willow neither of those gentlemen spoke of the sus- bark, and medicines of a sedative character, picions they entertained. On the 8th of more or less. About a week afterwards June, the day, or the day after, Dr. Jackson she suffered from severe vomiting and irrita- (according to his own varying statements) tion of the bowels, which continued, with had made up his mind that Mrs. Wooler two slight intermissions, until she died upon was suffering from arsenical poison, Mr. the 27th of June. Some importance was Wooler called upon him and asked his opin- attached, by the conductors of the prosecu- ion with respect to her. I told him (deposed tion, to the fact, that about a week before the doctor) she was in a dangerous state, and Dr. Jackson was sent for, Mrs. Wooler had my opinion was unfavorable. I thought she suffered in a slight degree from the symptoms was consumptive, and had ulceration in the we have just mentioned. Being constitution- bowels. The husband was greatly irritated ally delicate and weak, she one day said at not having been sooner informed of his she felt very poorly; she had a paih in her wifes illness, as he said he was able to have head, and ~went out and had a walk. She the best advice, and he expressed his discon- came in and had her tea, but was not so well, tent so warmly as, in the opinion of the judge, She was sick that night, and vomited. A to warrant surprise that Dr. Jackson should significance was attempted to be given to this have thought it right to continue his atten- occurrence, by adducing proof before the dance. lie did so, however, and upon that magistrates, that Mr. Wooler did not partake same day held a consultation with Dr. Hasle- of the soup which constituted part of their wood, another physician and general practi~ dinner on that day; but it was proved that tioner of Darlington, who was employed he never did take soup; and the point partly upon his own recommendation, and not having been pressed at the trial, no light after he had refused to meet Dr. Strother, an was thrown upon it by inquiries as to whether old practitioner of the same town, whose the soup had been eaten of by other persons, name was suggested by Mr. Wooler.* At and if so, with what consequences. the period of this consultation all the symp- On the 16th of May Mr. Henzell, assistant toms which had aroused suspicion in the to Dr. Jackson, and described as a gentle- minds of Messrs. Jackson and llenzell were man who had a very high education indeed, present; yet the joint opinion then pro- visited Mrs. Wooler. lie then believed her nounced was that the patient had delicacy to be laboring under irritation of the in- of the lungs, bat that there was not that cx~ testinal canal; but, in addition to the * Among some remarkable features of this case which do symptoms peculiarly indicative of that dis- not appear to have attracted the attention of the counsel for ease, he describes her to have had short the prisoner, is a very strange variation in the evidence re- specting the consultation of the 8th of June. At the trial, tickling cough, with an uneasy sensation at Dr. Jackson deposed very distinctly that he took part in it. the windpipe, and a pulse from 110 to 120. Referring to Dr. llaslewood, he said: We had the first consultation on the 8th. On his cross-examination he He treated her for a disordered stomach, con- said: Dr. Ilaslewood and I had a consultation on the tinuin~ the medicines previously prescribed afternoon of that day. Dr. Haslewood, Mr. Heuzell, and n I, perhaps, met in my house after that, and consulted. by Dr. Jackson. On the 4th of June Mr. The evidence of Dr. Ilaslewood corroborates this statementl but it is directly contradicted by the testimony of Mr. lien- llenzell again saw Mrs. Wooler, and finding zell at the trial, and by that given by Dr. Jackson before the symptoms of irritation aggravated, he the magistrates. Mr. ileuzell swore that he was not present at the consultation tween Drs. Ilaslewood and says he was led to conjecture such effects Jackson ~ and Dr. Jackson deposed before the magie- might be produced by arsenical poison.~~ He trates that lie did not go to meet Dr. ifaslewood, assign- ing as a reason that he felt himself insulted by his assistant did not, however, mention his suspicious until being asked to attend in place of himself Mr. Ileuzell be- the 7th of June, as he stated at the trial, or lug supposed to have the most accurate ear for testing the state of the chest. A letter was put in, written by Dr. till the 8th or 9th, as deposed before the magis- Jackson to Mr. Wooler, stating that his assistant would no~ when, Dr. Jackson having be in attendance, as the proceeding was contrary to profes trates, made him sional etiquette. THE DOCTOR IN TIlE WITNESS-BOX. tent of disease in the chest but that she might live for many years. Nothing was said to Dr. ilaslewood respecting poison, and al- though he continued to attend the lady in conjunction with the two others until she died, his mind remained altogether free from suspicion until the 17th of June, when his thoughts were directed in that course by a note from Mr. llenzell. Two days subse- quently the Doctors thoughts found expres- sion in words: On the 19th (he says), rid- ing out with Dr. Jackson, I said: You have another patient laboring under vomiting, and Mr. Henzell says something about poisoning. Dr. Jackson looked surprised, but when I told him I knew who it was that it was Mrs. Wooler he acknowledged I was right. The origin and progress of the growth of these suspicions are very curious. There was, no doubt, as Baron Martin observed, much in them, as they were detailed in evidence, that was wisdom after the event. According to their own account, the doctors strongly suspected that murder was being committed before their eyes, yet they looked quietly on at the deed, only, as we shall see, coolly mak- ing ready to hang a murderer. Well might the judge remark, that if they were -telling the truth their conduct was astonishing and incomprehensible. The conclusion at which he arrived was, that they did not entertain so strong an impression that the woman was being poisoned before her death, as they be- lieved. It is plain, nevertheless, that they did suspect, and that their suspicion was based upon a circumstance which all amateur dab- blers in physic will do well to reflect upon. During the early part of Mrs. Woolers illness, while she was yet able to move about, it hap- pened that she brounht an Indian basket con- taining a number of bottles of drugs into the dinin~-room, in presence of her husband, and showed them to Dr. Jackson* The doctor was unable to recollect the cause of this exhihition, but it is explained in his own account of a second similar occurrence : I was attend- ing (he says) a man at the toll-bar, and it was brought for me to see if there was any medicine which would suit me for him. In like manner and for a like purpose the basket, * There is here another remarkable variation in Dr. Jacksons evidence. I-Jo deposed before the magistrates that he never saw her out of bed from the 8th of May to the time of her death ; hut the affair of the Indian basket occurred, according to his evidence on the trial, after that date, and she was then down stairs and moving about. 83 and another similarly stocked, were subse- quently shown to Dr. ilaslewood. They con- tained more than forty bottles, some of them empty, and others containing drugs of various kinds. Among them were veratria and strychnine, subtle vegetable poisons; and ac- cording to the evidence of the two doctors, an ounce bottle, labelled Fowlers solution of arsenic, having in it about a teaspoonf~al of fluid, similar in color to that preparation. This bottle was seen by Dr. Jackson twice -at a considerable interval of time, and he ob- served no difference in the quantity of contents on the two occasions. It was not found in the basket at the investigation be- fore the magistrates, nor was any proof adduced, thea or subsequently, that it really contained the fluid named on the label. Out of it, nevertheless, grew the suspicion that subsequently attained so formidable a devel- opment. The poison, said Dr. Jackson, must have been administered with consum- mate wisdom and the greatest caution administered otherwise. it would have been easily found out. Mr. Wooler possesses such knowledge. Dr. Jackson, said Mr. IIenzell, on the 8th or 9th June, told rue he thought Mrs. Wooler was laboring under arsenical poison. I afterwards told Dr. Jack- son that I at first thought so myself, but rejected the idea, because I did nt think there was anybody about possessing sufficient scien- tific acquaintance with the action and nature of the poison. I scouted the idea, but Dr. Jackson removed all my doubts by assuring inc of the presence of the poison in the house, and of a person conversant with its action and properties. The next day Mr. IIenzell began to analyze the excretions of the patient, froh~ one sample of which he deposed that he obtained a metallic substance, the nature of which he did not know at the time, but which, about the time of her death, he suc- ceeded in proving to be arsenic. The ch after the supposed criminal now became hot- ter. The pbor victim was abandoned to her fate; but much preparation was made to avenge her, and in every step the individual who was thought to be most concerned in baffling inquiry sedulously assisted. I-Ic brought around the bed of his wife numerous disinterested witnesses of all that was going on. The curate of the parish was allowed free access to the sick-room, and was present at the closing scene. Miss Middleton and THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. Miss Lanchester, two respectable friends, were constantly in attendance; the latter slept with the dyin~ woman, and was scarcely ab- sent from her room during the last month of her life. Her husbands niece and brother were constantly with her. Her own sister, repeatedly invited, at length yielded to Mr. Woolers earnest solicitations, and arrived from London in time to see her die. He kept a slate, and subsequently a book, in which he or one of the other attendants daily re- corded the slightest symptoms, for the infor- mation of the medical men. Drs. Jackson and Haslewood and Mr. Henzell were in con- stant daily attendance. Dr. Devey was called into consultation; Dr. Strother, proposed as a consultant, was objected to hy Dr. Jackson. Mr. Dixon, a surgeon, of Newcastle, was sent for, hut was unable to attend; and an attempt was made, through a nephew of the patient, who happened to he a pupil of Sir John Fife, an eminent surgeon, of the same town, to ascertain if that gentlemans expe- rience was likely to enable him to suggest any change of treatment. Mr. Wooler was unremitting in his own attentions to his wife, frecjnently assisting to administer the medi- cines ordered by the doctors; but always in an open and unguarded manner. He never prepared any of the home-made medicaments, and the bottle from which he occasionally dropped laudanum into them under medical sanction, lay sometimes on the wash-stand, sometimes on the table. He facilitated, in every possible way, the prosecution of Mr. Henzells chemical researches, directing his servant to preserve everything which that gentleman wished to examine; and when at length the poor woman was released from her sufferings on the 2~th of June, the three doc- tors carried out their inquiries by a post-mor- tem examination, without restriction or super- vision. fhe post-mortem examination was made upon the 28th of June,* when some of the viscera were removed without the knowledge of Mr. Wooler or his brother, and conveyed by Dr. Jackson to Mr. Richardson, a chemist at Newcastle, on the 30th. On the previous day Dr. Jackson had written a note to Mr. Wooler, stating that his wife had died from the effects of poison. The note was left by the doctors man with an intimation that it Here again Dr. Jacksons deposition is at variance with his evidence at the trial. In the former he assigned the 29th as the date of thepost mortem. required no answer. It was received by Mr. Wooler with obvious marks of surprise: he called Miss Lanchester and Miss Brecknell into the dining-room, and in the presence of them and of his servant, Ann Taylor, he read the note. I dont recollect exactly the words (said the last-named witness), but I think he said atrocious. He said: Poison could it be in the food, Ann I I said no. lie said, where could it be ~ and I said I did not know. I asked where the medicine bot- tles were, and he said they had better not be touched. lie added, you had better lock them in your box, as you have made the food. I got the bottles and placed them in my box. Immediately upon the receipt of this note, Mr. Woolers brother took it to the coroner, and an inquest was held on the morning of the 30th of June, but adjourned to the 13th of July, in order to obtain the evidenee of Mr. Richardson, the chemist to whose examination the viscera had been sub- mitted. The finding of the jury was to the effect that the death had been caused by irritant poison, but by what means was un- known. To use the words of the counsel for the prosecution, that proceeding was not by any means satisfactory to the friends of the deceased. Further investigation took place, and Mr. Wooler was apprehended upon a charge of murdering his wife by poison. The matter was investi~ated by the magis- trates, and ultimately Mr. Wooler was com- mitted to take his trial. The sole apparent representative of the friends of the deceased whd were unsatisfied was her brother, Mr W. II. Brecknell, upon whose information the investigation was held. The trial, which lasted three days, resulted in the acquittal of the prisoner, after delibera- tion by the jury for not more than three or four minutes. There was practically no de- fence ; the case for the prosecution fell through simply by its own weight. We have carefully collected and weighed the whole of the evidence, as well that contained in the depositions as that given upon the trial, and there is not, we think, a single particular of importance omitted from the digest we have laid before our readers. Yet there will not be found in it a shadow of proof of any kind to connect the prisoner with the administration of poison to the de- ceased, if poison wae administered to her. In the somewhat unguarded, but perfectly THE DOCTOR IN TilE WITNESS-BOX. true words of the judge, suspicion might rest upon any person whatever, as rationally as upon Mr. Wooler. If he had a knowledge of drugs, so had the doctors; if he had poison in his possession, so had they; if he had op- portunity to administer it, so had they; if it was possible that his nature might have been rendered exceptional to that of all man- kind by a diabolical mania for motiveless murder, so might theirs. The single peculi- arity in Mr. Woolers case, as compared with that of his accusers, was the fact, that he had been for eighteen years the attached and tender husband of the supposed victim of his hypothetical crime. The conjugal relation was absolutely the one point upon which the presumption of this unfortunate mans guilt was based. We can conceive bat one hy- pothesis as absurd and untenable as this, namely, that guilt mi~ht be presumed from the relation of physician to patient; and al- though no one will accept this counter-sup- position as a solution of the Burdon case, yet, violent and irrational as it is, it has positively more color from circumstances than the other. The husband, throughout, affected no con- cealments: there was nothing secret (said Dr. Jackson), all was open as day. lie brought out his bottle with a tea-spoonful of fluid appearing to be arsenical solution, again and again, as though it had been (like the blue bottle in the druggist-doctor~s win- dow) the sign of his horrid trade. He noted down the symptoms of the sick woman with scrupulous exactness, and showed the notes daily to the medical attendants. On the other hand, the doctors conduct was not free from unnecessary affectation of mystery. They said nothing of their suspicions, or of their having obtained the assistance of a noted medical jurist in Edinbur~h to search for evi- dence of poison. Dr. Haslewood omitted from the statement of the case he prepared with a view of being shown to Sir John Fife, a symptom to which he attached particular importance, and he did so, he said, because, if he had mentioned it, it would have been equivalent to saying it was a case of poison. Beside the label upon that ounce vial, there was no evidence of the husband having pur- chased arsenic, or having had any in his pos- session; and if the vial h& d been full, and its contents had been certainly arsenical solution, there would not have been enough to destroy life. But he was only once absent from home, seven days before the final catastrophe, and then to no greater distance than Bishop Auckland, during the whole time of his wifes illness. The doctors had unlimited access to the poison in every form. Again, it was Mr. Wooler who pressed for the exhumation of the body, in the course of the investigation before the magistrates, in order that it might be tested by a competent chemist, and it was he who paid Professor Taylor for making the examination. On the other hand, those pro- ceedings were resisted by Doctor Haslewood, and with so much heat as to draw from Mr. Woolers solicitor the exclamation No., no, dont say that! You dont want to de- stroy a poor man! You dont want to hunt a man down! Assuredly, we do not think these circumstances warrant any suspicion of guilt on the part of the medical men; but we refer to them to show how utterly baseless was their suspicion against the husband. Yet that suspicion having once been raised, moder- ation, candor, justice, were all merged in the public mind, beneath an overwhelming desire to cleanse away the sin of a foul crime by the sacrifice of a victim. The witnesses, the magistrates, the ~ystanders in court, nay, even the attorneys and counsel, were all car- ned away by this passion. II have never,~ said Baron Martin, during my twenty-five years experience in the practice of the law, heard anything so utterly disgraceful as that exhibition, in any court of justice. On pert answer being given by a witness, not altogether relevant to the case, but which was supposed to tell aeainst the prisoner, there occurred that disgraceful exhibition. We have already noticed the learned judges comment upon the exaggerations of the lea - ing counsel for the prosecution; he still more sharply rebuked that gentlemans instructor: the learned counsel was wrongly instruct- ed, and the person who instructed him had much to answer for. Amid this tumult of passion, it is gratifying to find that those whom the law called out from the mass, and specially charged with the duty of adniinis- tering justice, were not shaken. The judge and jury stood firm, and in the entire absence of any proof of guilt, the accused man was set free, with an imitation from Baron Mar- tin that he would have stopped the case at an early period, but that he thought it more satisfactory to allow it to be fully heard. It THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. was not, however, heard fully, and in one portion of it, it was heard only upon one side. Ta conductin~ the prisoners ease, Mr. Ser- geant Wilkins, no doubt, for sufficient prac- tical reasons, left his defence to the counsel and witnesses for the prosecution. They showed that there was no ground for convict- inst Mr. Wooler, and his own counsel, whose y ~i~ment in such a matter it would be absurd t doubt, stood by and saw him acquitted. Lo facilitate the process, and to avoid the 1 n~er of complication by involving himself u a maze of obscure chemical speculations, Mi N~ ilkins evaded all discussion of the main qacition in the case. 11c admitted that the woman was poisoned by arsenic, and the a Imission was accepted by the judge as hav- ing been certified to him by the evidence of competent witnesses, uncontradicted. It has been since used by a leading London journal to darken the shadow upon the acquitted man s character, and the example has, of coarse, been followed by some of the subor- dinate guides of popular opinion. The re- marks to which we refer had no better foundation in knowledge of the subject than in justice or generosity, and unfortunately their real effect has been not merely to darken the shadow of suspicion, but to spread it o ci a wide area. The acceptance of the iomm~oon that the crime ~f poisoning was 1nmmtted involves the necessity of specula- t1uu ai to who was the criminal, and as the m ijoiity of reflecting persons will attach moic credit to the manfully expressed con- x~ctmons of Baron Martin than to the dark 1 mnuations of a journalist, innocent persons will, no doubt, be brought within the scope of the public suspicion. It is therefore desi- rable, even upon this limited ground, that the question should be further discussed, but we shall endeavor to show th~ t a much more extended and graver interest is involved in its settlement. The acquittal of Mr. Wooler authorita- tivelv s trips the case to its original naked- ncss It stands now divested of every shred of evidence except tile professional testimony of the medical witnesses, and it seems to us to be of extreme importance to consider whether it is safe to found criminal prosecu- tions upon that basis, and lvhether it is for the good of society to encourage the medical practitioner to assume the double function of detective policeman and solicitor for the Crown. In tile ease before us the medical evidence was of three kinds; dealing with symptoms during life, with appearances of the body after death, and with chemical tests of the presence of poison. With respect to the first, all writers upon the subject admit that in the ease of poisoning by arsenic they are not to be relied npon. They are un- doubtedly equivocal; they often accompany other diseases in a greater or less degree. * It is obvious, says Professor Taylor,t that a case of slow poisonin~ by arsenme might very easily be mistaken for gastro-en- teritis, and treated accordingly. And this remark is appended to a case in which symp- tonIs peculiarly relied upon in the prosecu- tion of Mr. Wooler were remarkably obvi- ous. There was much pain and tenderness down the spine, with frequent muscular tre- mors; and a crampy feeling of the lower ex- tremities, with partial loss of motion and sensation. In truth, no medical man will, we believe, deny that all the symptoms ob- served in the case of Mrs. Wooler were com- patible with the hypothesis that she died of natural disease; and the fact was admitted by the two medical jurists examined, not- withstanding their somewhat dogmatical as- sertion that the case was one of arsenical poisoning. In my opinion, said Professor Christi- son, before the tingling, followed by te- tanics, supervened, the symptoms were in- dicative of poison, but not to the extent they afterwards assumed ; and he added, that, divesting his mind of everything he had heard, and having read Dr. Haslewoods letter [detailing the syniptoms, and written for the purpose of being shown to Sir John Fife], he might have suspected arsenic, but nothing further. Even though the list were completed by the addition of the symp- tom of tingling, he would not have given an opinion until he had examined the excretions for arsenic. In his letter to Dr. Haslewood, lie distinctly warned that gentleman and his colleagues that the symptoms at that period, four days before the ladys death, though referrible to arsenical poisoning, were such as natural disease might produce. Profes- sor Taylor believed deceased, from all evi- dence combined, died from arsenical poison administered in small doses; but he ad- nutted that the symptoms anterior to the tingling of the fin6ers might be caused by somethinr else. After Dr. Jackson had been a daily observer of the ease for a month, he pronounced it to be one of consumption and ulceration of the bowels. Nine days later, no idea of anything else being wrong had crossed Dr. Haslewoods mind; nor, in ~ll probability, would suspicion have ever entered it had not Jr. IJenzell possessed that dangerous thing, a little learning, and the leisure to use it in pathological speculation4 * Beck Elements of Med. Jurisprudence, 3d Ed. by Darwall, p. 41S. Taylor on Poisons. Lend. 1848, p. i16. I In a paper published in t Jddioburgk Medical Journal for January, Dr. christison says On or about the 17th of June, the three medical gentlemen who had all 87 THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. With respect to the appearances disclosed by the examination of the body after death, the admissions of the medical jurists were even more distinct. They were, said Dr. Christison, appearances which arsenic might produce, but they might also be pro- duced by natural disease. Dr. Taylor, re- ferring to his own examination of the viscera, submitted to him, and to the result of his analysis, affirms, that not having any knowledge of the symptoms of the disease from which the deceased had died, he could not express a positive opinion that she had died from arsenic. The morbid appearances, as described, were tubercular disease of both lungs, with a cavity in one of them; considerable disease of the liver, specially referred to by Dr. Taylor, as not to be accounted for by the presence of arsenic; and extensive ulceration of the intestines. They were, in short, such as to support the view of the case taken by both the attendant doctors on the 8th of June 19 days before the ladys death when Dr. Jackson said she was consumptive, and had ulceration in her bowels. That, be it remembered, was the inference drawn by a medical man, at the time uninfluenced by suspicion, from his observation, during an entire month, of symptoms which Dr. Christison, who became acquainted with them through that gentlemans narration, avers, ill one of his statements, that he had never either seen, or read, or heard of, unless from the effects of arsenic. XYe have seen that this strong averment is not supported by other parts of the doctors evidence; and we venture to aver, with some confidence, that had the question of poison- ing been put out of view, and the symptoms and morbid appearances stated to a score of the most eminent physicians of the day, a majority of them would have confirmed the judgment of Dr. Jackson, as it was pro- nounced upon the 8th of June. If there be a single symptom in the list, which a man, practically acquainted with disease, would cavil at, as being of very extraordinary occurrence in cases of consumption, it was that of tetanic spasms, which, as they were described, are rather indicative of the action of nux vomica than of that of arsenic; and, strange to say, we have the testimony of Dr. Jackson, that he was administering that medicine to Mrs. XYooler, at all events, so late as the 14th of June, nine or ten days before the tin~ling of the hands was noticed. In truth, the opinions expressed by Drs. in(lepen(ler~ly begun, for some days before, to entertain a lurking idea that the lady might be laboring nnder the effeeLS of arsenic, frequently administered in email doses. came t.o an nodorstanding with one another. This state- ment is enite at variance with 1)m. Ilaslewoods and Mr. Heucells evi(lence, which wa~ to the effect mentioned above Christison and Taylor were deductions from the evidence and opinions of others, com- bined with such facts as they had them- selves an opportunity of observing; and they were both, manifestly, greatly biased by their confidence in the infallibility of thetr art, respecting the importance of which they entertain notions that the public and the legal profession ought to be acquainted with. Dr. Taylor is of opinion that medical wit- nesses, who are required to give evidence on intricate points of science, should always be allowed to be present in court,* and he can- not approve of the doctrine that any crim- inal court should be permitted to select its own degree of chemical proof.t lIe would, in fact, supersede the jury; and that was the position which he (to a certain extent) and Dr. Christison altogether, assumed upon the Burdon trial. They sat in judgment, and pronounced a verdict upon questions of fact of which they had no other knowledge than such as they derived from the evidence they heard. Upon that occasion their decision was accepted by the court, for it was unchallenged, and therefore unrefuted; and the result has manifestly raised high visions of grandeur in the mind of one of them. It is now much the fashion with lawyers, says Dr. Christison, whether civil or criminal, to rail, both in season and out of season, at medical evidence. ~ ~ Not one word of ap- probation was bestowed, throughout this long trial, on the most elaborate, difficult, and con- clusive medical investigation and evidence hitherto produced on any criminal trial in Britain. The proof of isoning was so perfect, in very nice and difficult circumstances, that even the prisoners counsel evidently surren- dered that point without attempt at dispute, from the very beginning. How different was the case, only five-and-twenty years ago, when the main efforts of counsel were invariably di- rected to deny and disprove the poisoning! t Let there be but a few more Burdon cases, and it may be hoped that the great bul- wark will be thrown down, and justice will thenceforward be summarily and effect- ually done upon all suspected poisoners by the decree of a medical jurist. There has, we acknowledge, been a rather long step taken in that direction by the admissions in the Burdon case; and, with ttll respect for Dr. Christison, whom we know to be an able and worthy man, but with more resyeet for the liberties of Englishmen and the institu- tion of trial by jury, we sincerely trust the practice of severely testing medical evidence may remain as he describes it to have been * Taylor on Poisons, 1848, page liCS. 8 Page 345. $ Ed. Med. .Teurnal for January, p. 623. THE DOCTOR IN ~HE WITNESS-BOX. twenty-five years ago. We humbly opine, in short, that the medical witness should be kept, and should diligently strive to keep himself, within his own province; that he should deal with facts rather than with spec- ulations, and that his testimony should be examined with even more jealousy and care than that of a non-scientific deponent to ordinary occurrences. We think, further, that the common rule of evidence which ex- cludes conjectures and speculative opinions has been more freely than beneficially relaxed in favor of medical men, and that in every case in which the reception of such testimony is necessary for the clearing up of medical questions, it should be a stringent rule to obtain it from disinterested practical men, who were neither attendants in the case nor witnesses of the medico-legal facts. It was a mere medico-legal speculation, upon, as we conceive, very insufficient data which served as a basis, in the Burdon case, for a most oppressive prosecution, unsupported by a tittle of evidence against the accused man, or against any human being; and one part of that speculation was certainly a most gra- tuitous assumption. There was no ground whatever shown for the statement that Mrs. Wooler died from the administration of poison in small, repeated doses, as was maintained by Drs. Christison and Taylor. The circum- stances were adverse to such a supposition, and well authenticated records show the effects of the drug to be so variable as to render it hazardous indeed to speculate from them upon the manner of its administration in any particular case. Medical men, in truth, are in dark ignorance as to the length of time during which small quantities of arsenic may remain in the human body in- operative, as to the speed with which it is absorbed and permeates the several tissues, as to the time required for it elimination, and as to whether it does or does not accu- mulate in the body so as after a certain pe- riod to occasion, as some other substances do, sudden symptoms and death. In reference to all these points, the state of medical knowledge is shown in the answers given to a question put respecting one of them by the president of a French tribunal. M. Dever- gie replied in the negative, and M. Flandin in the affirmative. * Messrs. Devergie and Flandia were poison doctors of high author- ity; and it is but a few days since a medical jurist, AS eminent and capable as any of his craft in the United Kingdom, averred, in our hearing, that he differed in opinion from Drs.- Christison and Taylor, and did not think Mrs. Wooler had been poisoned by arsenic given in small, repeated doses. In * Taylor, p. 318. truth, neither he nor they had any certain ground for forming an opinion upon the point one way or the other. And now let us turn to that section of the medical evidence which doubtless made the strongest impression upon the court the result of chemical analysis. This was of various kinds. Mr. Henzell, described by the counsel for the prosecution as a man of considerable aequirements and scientific at- tainments, dabbled a little in chemical in- vestigations during Mrs. Woolers life, and discovered, as he thought, something met- allic in her fluid excretions, on the 14th of June and subsequent days; but, although he frequently tried, he never could find anything suspicious in the matters ejected from her stomach. In the fluid excretion obtained on the 22d or 23d of June, Dr. Christison found a very minute quantity of arsenic; but it is not much to be wondered at that he should have made that discovery, as the specimen sent to him consisted of nineteen ounces of fluid evaporated to three ounces, and treated with strong nitric acid, in which, if we may judge from a correlative circumstance which we shall presently refer to, in all human probability, the arsenic was contained. Pre- vious to the magistrates investigation, the three medical attendants, assisted by a Mr. Piper and Mr. Fothergill, to whom we shall have occasion again to refer, held a com- mittee upon a portion of the liver which they had privately removed from Mrs. Wool- ers body, and thought they discovered ar- senic in it; and Mr. Richardson, a chemist of Newcastle, made an independent analysis of portions of the viscera, obtained in like man- ner, with a similar result. He applied the usual tests, apparently with care, and found about half-a-grain of arsenic, expecting, after the evidence of the medical gentle- men, to have found more. The body was exhumed on the 4th of August, more than five weeks after death, and the remains of the viscera (including the liver, intestines, part of the lungs and the heart) were sent to London to Professor Taylor, who deposed that he closely examined the internal surface of the intestines, with the aid of a magnify- ing glass, and found no trace of arsenic in substance anywhere; but that, upon a chem- ical analysis of the liver, heart, lungs, intes- tines, and of the fluid found in the jar in which those parts were conveyed to him, he did detect altogether about a grain of the poison. This quantity Professor Taylor characterized, in his deposition before the magistrates, as exceedingly small~ and, as the analysis was conducted in at least nine distinct processes, the product of each of which went to make up the estimated grain, he mi0ht well express that opinion. And 88 THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. now we come to a very strange episode in this strange history. Mr. Wooler was in the habit of assisting in the administration -of enemas to his wife during her illness. On the score of indelicacy the practice must un- questionably be condemned, but it was never concealed, and .the servant was uniformly present and assisting. It was also proved that he never interfered in the composition of the medicaments used beyond occasionally dropping laudanum into them, openly, and from a bottle which used to lie on the wash- stand, or in the window of the ladys bed- chamber. There were three syringes em- ployed in these operations, two belonging to Mr. Wooler, and one which he borrowed from Mr. Fothergill, a surgeon in Darlington, whose name we have already mentioned. This latter instrument was returned to Mr. Fothergill a short time after Mrs. Woolers death, and that gentleman, having analyzed ~ flexible tube attached to it, deposed before the magistrates that he found it to be con- taminated with arsenic. It turned out, how- ever, that there was arsenic in the tests used in the making of this discovery; and it is remarkable that the latter fact was not made known to the magistrates until a fortnight had elapsed from the time Mr. Fothergill became aware of it, although an adjourned meeting in the matter of the investigation had been held in the interval. It is not less worthy of note, that it was the same ma- nipulator, working, probably, with similarly impure tests, who detected the poison in the course of the investigations made by the three medical attendants in the case. The two other syringes remained unnoticed in the storeroom of Mr. Woolers house, and, sub- sequently, in a~i open cupboard at the police- station, for some three months, until they got into Professor Taylors hands on the 2d of October, when he found arsenic in one made of pewter, but could discover none in the other which was made of brass. The quantity of arsenic detected in this examina- tion does not appear to have been stated. The only inference warranted by these facts is, that the two grains of evidence upon which the prosecution was based, were the analyses of Mr. Richardson and Dr. Taylor. The symptoms, as we have shown, might have been indicative of natural dis- ease; and, in fact, they were, for an entire month, supposed by Dr. Jackson to denote consumption and intestinal ulceration. When in their most marked form, between the 8th and 17th of June, they made a similar impression upon Dr. Ilaslewood, nor did they, even then, excite any different idea in his mind, until it was suggested to him to suspect. The morbid appearances were un- deniably such as might accord with these views of the natural character of the disease thus entertained by the medical attendants. The properties ascertained to exist in Mi. Fothergills tests, with the well known fact that nitric, muriatic, and sulphuric acids are commonly impregnated with arsenic, render the analyses of that gentleman and of Dr. Christison altogether worthless. It was, in our mind, in the very highest de- gree improper to use them in any stage of those investigations, as the basis of an alle- gation of poisoning. Of the analyses made by Mr. Richardson and Dr. Taylor, we feel justified in speaking with much more re- spect. The former gentleman appeared to have been entirely free from any trace of the detective spirit which the pursuits of a pro- fessional medical jurist can scarcely fail to engender. Both the one and the other be- lieved their tests and apparatus to have been perfectly pure, and they operated independ- ently of each other, although both were, doubtless, to some degree, liable to be in- fluenced by a foregone conclusion. The statements of the medical men immediately attendant had pronounced that Mrs. Wooler had been poisoned by arsenic, and the allegation had been confirmed by the loud voice of public indignation. Such causes are known to produce their effects, not merely upon the judgments, hut even upon the senses, of wise and honest men; and we can conceive it possible that they might affect the perception of the odor of garlic, or the discrimination between the colors, smoky black and hair brown, in connexion with a substance, the ninth part of a grain in weight. No one could have a shadow of doubt that Mr. Richardson and Professor Taylor gave honest evidence, to the best of their belief; but the public ought to know, and to reflect upon the fact, that it is upon such delicate operations of the senses as those we have instanced, that the belief of scientific men in the presence of minute quantities of arsenic in the struc- ture of the tissues of the body is based. Mr. Richardson, for example, operated upon portions of viscera, containing, according to his results, half a grain of arsenic, and it may be instructive to many of our readers to know through how many changes and chances that particle of poison was past be- fore it was recognized. Here is Mr. Rich- ardsons own statement of his proceedings: I emptied all the contents into a porcelain dish, covered them with distilled water, added a portion of muriatic acid, and gently heated the whole on a sand bath. I then added chlorate of potash in small portions, and continued the operations until the whole contents were dis- solved in the liquid, with the exception of a small quantity of fatty matter which floated on I THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. the surface. I then allowed the liquid to cool, and passed sulphurous acid through the solu- tion, and filtered the whole through a linen cloth. The liquid portion, after being heated, was treated with a current of sulphuretted hy- drogen gas, and the whole allowed to stand for a certain time. The liquid and the solid were separated by filtration, and, after gently drying, the contents were treated first with a little nitric acid, and then with oil of vitriol, and cautiously evaporated nearly to dryness, until the whole of the organic matter was charred. I then treated this solid mass with water, to which a drop of muriatic acid had been added, and this liquid I submitted to the following test: I poured a portion of it into a Marshs apparatus. Hav- ing previously ascertained that the gas, which would evolve from the apparatus, contained no arsenic, I heated the glass tube through which the gas was passing by a spirit lamp, and ob- tained a metallic deposit. I did this to two or three glass tubes. I applied the flame of the gas, which had been ignited, at the end of the apparatus, to porcelain, so as to obtain a deposit on the face of the porcel~in, termed mirrors. One of the glass tubes I gently heated, so as to allow a current of air to pass through the inte- rior of the tube, when the metallic matter partly sublimed, and was converted into a white pow- der, which deposited on the upper surface of the glass; and the gas which issued at the end pro- duced a strong odor of garlic. Another of the glass tubes I moistened with muriatic acid, and passed sulphuretted hydrogen into it, which converted the substance into a yellow-colored body. I then took some of the stains upon the mirror and subjected them to the vapor of phos- phorus in the ordinary way. In the course of fifteen minutes or less these mirrors entirely dis- appeared, and the liquid left on the glass reacted ncid. Another portion I treated with a solution of bleaching powder, which instantly discolored the mirror. I then treated another portion with nitric acid, which slowly discolored the mirros~s; and with nitrate of silver I produced a yellow precipitate soluble with ammonia; and, from these reactions, I conclude the substance was arsenic. The whole amount of the substance thus pulled about was, as we have stated, about half a grain. It is no part of our design to criticise this series of processes, which was h~onestly de- tailed; nor to enter upon chemical disquisi- tions entirely unsuited to our pages. We merely wish to show our readers upon how many slight contingencies the result of such operations depends, and how very trifling a mistake might complete a chain of evidence, and bring an innocent man to the gallows. The facts of chemistry are themselves, too, in a state of continual change, so that truths which yesterday may have accomplished their deadly work upon an alleged criminal, may to-morrow be proclaimed as fallacies throughout the world of science. Just 104 years ago, this very month of February, Miss Blandy was hanged at Oxford for poisoning her father, upon the medical evidence of Dr. Addington, a most eminent physician of the day, whose testimony, had we space to quote it, would be found to be as elaborate as Mr.. Richardsons, and was, no doubt, as satisfac- tory at that time; yet in Professor Taylors latest work it is pronounced to have been a series of chemical errors affording not the slightest evidence of the presence of arsenic. ~ Dr. Addington mixed up vitriol and potash, boiled and washed, saw precipi- tates, smelled garlic, and swore, no doubt with genuine honesty, that he never saw any two things in nature more alike than the powder found in Mr. Blandys gruel and white arsenic, and 1~Iiss Blandy was hanged accordingly, the coexistent circumstances being thought sufficient to justify that ex- treme measure. Only the other day, Dr. Taylor muddled, and washed, and precipi- tated, and smelt garlic, and swore, with equal good faith as Dr. Addington, and Mr. Wooler would have been hanged accordingly had he ever had a quarrel with his wife, or a petite liaison with his house-maid, or had he been known, within the last half-year, to have bought a pennyworth of poison. Yet in Dr. Taylors book we find it stated ~ that we are perhaps hardly yet acquainted with all the fallacies to wl?iich individual tests are exposed the extension of chemical science is daily adding to their number by bringing out an analogy of properties where it could not have been supposed to exist. What will be the fashionable mode of detecting arsenical poison in half a dozen years, when the doctor shall publish a new edition? who can tell? It may be t~ at, in the ex- tension of chemical science, he will find it necessary to deal with his own evidence in the case of Wooler as Dr. Male dealt with that of the eminent men who aided and abetted the hanging of Captain Donnellan, at Warwick, in 1781, and to pronounce it a melancholy and striking instance of the unhappy effects of popular prejudice, and the fatal consequences of medical igno.. rance. 4 In the meanwhile, even though medical jurists should salve their consciences by the plea (possibly very well grounded) that circumstances justified the execution of Blandy and Donnellan, we think it would be well for jurymen to know that the last- mentioned of those cases was not carried through without the interposition of a warn- ing from the lips of the most distinguished medical philosopher Britain has ever pro- duced. On the trial of Captain Donnellan for the murder of his brother-in-law, Sir * Taylor on Poisons, p. 140. ~ Beck, p. 551. t P. 141. THE DOCTOR TN THE WITNESS-BOX~ TheodosiusBoughton, by substituting laurel- ered? Who can tell? Or who can tell water for a medical draught, John Hunter that the learned doctor may not live to see was examined for the defence, and being a fallacy in his flippant rejection of another asked by the Court whether, from the symp- hypothesis suggested to him in his examina- toms that appeared upon Sir Theodosius tion before the magistrates, as set forth in Boughton, immediately after he took the the following short dialogue: draught, followed by his death so very soon Mr. Itymer: I wish to ask if, by any possi- after, he was of opinion that the draught bility, the arsenic found could have been the was the occasion of his death, be answered: result of any morbid action of the body? If I knew the draught was poison, I should Dr. Taylor: Certainly not. say, most probably, that the symptoms arose Mr. Rymer: I merely asked the question, from that; but when I dont know that the because of a hint thrown out in a newspaper. draught was poison when I consider that It was said in the Spectator that men may be- a number of other things might occasion his come their own sugar producers? death I cannot answer positively to it. Dr. Taylor: That is a mistake. I have to If we are permitted to use the affirmative of examine many bodies, and find no arsenic in the question at issue as the basis of an argu- them. I do not believe there can be any such ment, we can prove anything, by the circular thing as the production of arsenic from any mode of reasoning; and it was precisely change of the body. this fallacy, so tersely exposed by Hunter, which betrayed IDrs. Christison and Taylor into stating, as certain facts, matters which they only knew as the composite result of a number of conjectures. They set out with a firm conviction that Mrs. Woolers death was occasioned by arsenical poison, and they did not consider that a number of other things mi~,ht Iave occasioned it. For even though we should grant the chemists scent to be as keen as that of a truffle dog, and were we to admit, in the particular case we are consider- ing, that they could have made no mistake in discriminating the sensible qualities of the minute products of their experiments, several hypotheses as to the mode in which the arsenic was introduced into the system must be examined and rejected before the conclu- sion of poisoning can be safely drawn. Thijis we cannot close our minds to the recollection that men of our own day, as eminent in science as any now living, have entertained the idea that arsenic is a constant constituent of the human body. And without meaning to lay any stress upon this theory, surely there is a grave lesson taught in the fact that Dr. Taylor is not more sure to-day that bie extracted a ninth part of a grain of arsenic from Mrs. Woolers heart, than were Raspail and Orfila, some fifteen years ago, that they could elicit the same substance from tissues of any human corpse. When chemical science shall have taken another step forward or backward is it impossible that some operator may be able to do for Dr. Taylor what M. Flandin and he have done for Orfila ? show that he placed, in the year 1855, too great confidence in his testing process, and that the effect mistaken for that of arsenic probably arose from the pres- ence of phosphite or sulphite of ammonia, ~ or anything else, the analogy of whose prop- erties may happen then to be newly discov * Taylor, p. 349. Yet there may be more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in the doctors philosophy; and it is most certain that men may be their own sugar producers, a fact which, no doubt, Dr. Taylor did not mean to deny. A department of science in which new facts are continually added to the store, and old ones as continually shovelled out, is not a region of the impossible or improbable, neither is it, we should think, a field wherein it is safe to erect a gallows. We take no exception to the doom of the cook in the Arabian Nights, who was crucified for the proven offence of putting too much pepper in cream tarts; but it does seem to us some- what hard to hang a man, or even to ruin him by a criminal prosecution, because the ninth part of a grain of matter may appear to the eye of a philosopher to be of a smoky black rather than a hair brown color; or, to his nose, to emit the odor of garlic during volatilization. In the Great Burdon case, again, we have evidence that the deceased lady was dosed with a vast farrago of medicaments, among which were nitrate of silver, strychnia, ex- tract of lettuce, sulphate of quinine, sulphate of copper, opium, nux vomica, henbane, acetate of lead, strong acetic acid, acetate of morphia, blue pill, iodide of potash, bismuth, nitromuriatie acid. We know also that in the stoek of, one medical practitioner in the neighborhood there was mineral acid impreg- nated with arsenic. May not one or more of those drugs we have enumerated have been similarly contaminated? The supposi- tion is surely not of a violent character, yet, if correct, it would explain everything that happened without assuming that any one was morally guilty. But there is yet another hypothesis of a weightier kind, and more widely significant, than any of those we have pointed to. We have already said that no man, in tJ~e 92 THE DOCTOR IN THE WITNESS-BOX. present state of knowledge, can tell bow long plate of metal, brought into contact with arsenic may remain in the human body, in- the negative pole, became covered with a operative, or, when it has been once intro- thin coating of gold and silver, extracted duced into the intimate structure of organs from the hands of the operator, whence or tissues, what amount of time may he re- the most powerful remedies had not been quired for its elimination. Dr. Taylor able to eliminate them. This discovery was stated in his evidence, that when arsenic made on the 16th of April, 1852; and it ~s is in the body, it is deposited in some parts, shortly afterwards applied by M. Poey, also and remains an indefinite period; and, of the 1Iav~na, to medical use, in the follow- shortly afterwards, he assigned about a ing manner: fortnight, as his notion of the indefinite in M. Poey takes an unfortunate patient, cor- time, during the lapse of which the body roded by lead, mercury, gold, silver, or any throws off every trace.~ How does Dr. other metal, and places him in a metallic Taylor know? We confidently affirm that bathing-tub, isolated from the ground. The there is no ground in scientific knowledge for man sits down, his legs horizontally stretched fixing any particular period at which ar- out on a wooden bench, isolated from the tub, senic, introduced into the structure of the which is filled with water up to his neck. The body, will be naturally removed from it water is slightly acidulated, to increase its con- without leaving a trace behind. The doe- ductibility ; and the acid varies according to the tors first answer was correct; the period cases. This done, the negative pole of a pile is of elimination is indefinite, so far as is at brought into contact with the sides of the present known. It may be a fortnight, or it bathing-tub, and the positive pole placed in the may he twenty years. Dr. Taylor himself hands of the patient. The work of purification quotes experiments of M. Bonjean, of is now in full activity; the electrical current Charab6ry, who detected arsenic in the fluid precipitates itself through the body of the suf- excretion of a patient, one month after he ferer, penetrates into the depth of his bones, had taken, in minutely divided doses, three pursues in all the tissues every particle of metal, seizes it, restores its primitive form, and, chas- quarters of a grain of arseniate of soda.* ing it out of the organism, deposits it on the There is nothing accurately known about sides of the tub, where it becomes apparent to the habit of arsenic in this respect ; but it is the naked eye. * well known that other metallic poisons may dwell in the organs and tissues of the human Who will say that what is possible and of body for many years, nnd remain compara- common occurrence in the case of gold, tively inert. Lead, mercury, gold, silver, silver, mercury, lead, is impossible or im- may be thus absorbed and retained; and it probable in the case of another metal? or is only within the last year that a novel ap- who, recollecting that the foregoing history phication of galvanic electricity has been had not reached England this time last year, found effective in their extraction. Is there will argue that what is unknown is impos- any of our readers who has not been ac- sible? He would truly be a bold man who, quainted with a paralytic house-painter? being ;eminded of the facts we have alluded Many of them must have witnessed the to, w~ uld say that the arsenic in Mrs. shaking palsy of metal-gilders, or silverers Woolers body if arsenic there was there of looking-glasses; and few need to be in- might not have been introduced into it, formed that these chronic maladies are occa- medicinally or accidentally, or in any sioned by the absorption of the metals we other conceivable manner, one, two, or have named, which are retained in the sys twenty years before her death. Nay, there tem after it has got over their first violent is another item of speculation in the case. effects. They may endure for many years; It is well known that the metal, mercury, but it was only the other day that M. Mau- may remain long inertly mischievous, in the rice Vergn~s, of the Havana, accidentally human body, making no show in the exore- discovered a means of curing them by the re- tions, undiscoverable, until hydriodate of moval of their material cause. M. Vergni~s, potash being administered, that medicine (to having occupied himself with galvanic gild- use the expression we have quoted above) ing and silvering, had his hands in continual chases it out of the organism. It then be- contact with solutions of nitrate and cya- comes apparent, and can be detected as it nuret of gold and silver. They were, in is eliminated through the natural channels consequence, covered with ulcers, into which of the system. In the case of Mrs. Wooler particles of the metals were introduced we have seen that, among a vast variety of One day, however, he chanced to plunge drugs administered by her medical attend- them into the electro-chemical bath, at the ants, iodide of potash was one. Can any positive pole of the galvanic pile, and, to man say that it might not have operated so the great surprise of the beholders, a small La Presse, quoted in Medical Times and Gazette 3, 1865. * Tayloc on Poisons, p. 24. THE DOCTOR IN TIlE WITNESS-BOX. as to liberate absorbed arsenic, and even to render it poisonously active in the course of its elimination? Surely these are considera- tions which ought to make any man pause before swearing away the life or character of a fellow sinner by the color of a stain on a quarter-inch of copper gauze! The foregoing remarks are based chiefly upon the circumstances of one particular case, but they have a wide scope of applica- tion in the domain of that uncertain science, medical jurisprudence; and we venture to think they contain matter of grave concern- ment to all persons engaged in the adminis- tration of criminal justice, to the medical profession, and to the public. The ambition of what may be called skilled medical wit- nesses has grown rather rapidly of late: they are abandoning their position as indifferent auxiliaries of justice and advancing preten- sions to direct and administer it. They de- mand to be treated differently from other witnesses to be allowed to remain in court when those are excluded, and that for the express purpose of shaping their own testi- mony, amending, or sustaining it, in accord- ance with the evidence they may hear.* For their opinions, thus formed, and put forth e cathedra, they expect, and but too often obtain, unqualified acceptance. Those were adopted in the Burdon case, without even a show of examination with a simple, childlike faith; and in a case that has since occurred, but to which in its present stage we do not think it right to refer more partic- ularly, the astonishing spectacle was seen in open court of practical medical men retract- ing their own sworn testimony, and ac- commodating it to the evidence of the scien- tific witness. In truth, the poison-doctors stand upon a coigne of vantage, from wfiich, so long as they are united, they may defy the attacks of ju~dge, jury, or counsel, who are commonly (almost necessarily) ignorant of the ever-changing jargon in which they pronounce their decrees. The mysteries of chemistry. resemble those of religion; faith in them must be entire or void; while the heirophant of the modern science enjoys the advantage of the ancient priest, he can change at will the language of his oracle. Every day new names, sometimes conven- tional, sometimes expressing a new, often a false theory, are applied to common things, only to be altered upon the day that follows. Were Black, Kirwan, Davy, Dalton, to hear Dr. Taylor indoctrinating Baron Martin in the infallibi~ities of his science, a great part of his discourse would be delivered in a tongue unknown to these sages, so recently among us. It thus becomes absolutely im * See Observations upon Mr. watsons Evidence in Case of Elizabeth Johnson. Taylor, pp. 367, 832. possible Tor the ordinary administrators of law to test a skilled medical witness, who becomes, in fact, himself a jury sole, whose verdict is the more fatal, inasmuch as, how- ever he may be led astray by the fantasies of science, the instinct of the chase, or the influence of popular prejudice, he is com- monly a man of unquestionable respectabil- ity, and often of considerable talents and learning. There is then but one chance for the bound victim the chance of the martyr his pursuers may turn upon one another. By the occurrence of such a schism, in which Dr. Taylor himself performed the part of arch-heretic, the convict Kirwan, but three years since, escaped the doom to which he was consigned by the unhesitating decisions of jury and judge upon moral and circum- stantial evidence as convincing as ever was adduced in a criminal court. What is to be the limit of this power newly growing up in the state? Is any man or woman who has a spite against an other, or in whose bosom a smattering of~cnowledge kindles an irregular desire for action, or who has simply a dis. tempered fancy is such a one to be at lib- erty to rake up the ashes of the dead; and, with the ready help of a medical jurist, who can enter court with the recommendatory boast that he analyzes his hundreds of poisoned corpses yearly, place husband. wife, parent, child, servant, friend, on the defence of their lives, with the certainty that no defence can save them from the ruin of a blasted reputation? These questions assume a grave interest from the indications before us that a medical detective force is growing up around the cen- tre of medical criminal police that has rap- idly acquired a solid establishment among our institutions. Are we to be forced to dread a spy in every house into which a medical practitioner shall enter? Is the fear of a charge of secret poisoning, more horri- ble than the fear of being secretly poisoned, to be infused into the tenderest relations of life? Is the spectre of a doctor in the wit- ness-box to interpose in all the small chari- ties of society and of the family frightening the husband from the sick-room of his wife, forbidding the mother to administer a spoon- ful of drink to her dying child, daunting the servant in the performance of necessary offices for a helpless master? Assuredly we do not pretend to be able to answer in the name of the public; but we do know that to the results to which we point, such triumphs as those of Drs. Christison and Taylor at Burdon directly, and not slowly, tend. If there be a mania for the commission of crime, there is also a mania for the suspicion of it; and both affections are strikingly epidemic in their nature. It is not unlikely that we 93 TIlE DOCTOR IN TIlE WITNESS-BOX. shall soon have many cases of secret poison- ing and many more of the discovery of it. Well, but what is to be done? Much, we think, is in the power of the courts of crim- inal law; and we have no hesitation in say- ing, that the public safety requires that they should exercise their authority to repress the ambitious designs of the medical jurists. They should strictly apply to their case the ordinary rules of evidence, oblige them to adhere to a detail of facts, avoiding specula- tions, and promptly check every attempt to mingle extraneous matter with the medical or scientific data from which they draw con- clusions. For the reasons they themselves assign for being always suffered to remain in court, we conceive they should never be per- mitted to hear the evidence of other wit- nesses. The most extreme displeasure of the court should, we think, be visited upon any officious interference by medical men to get up a prosecution. Every possible discounte- nance should be given by the law officers of the Crown to the institution ~f proceedings upon medical evidence alone, unsupported by direct proof or suspicious circumstances. Were matters brought back to their old state by these precautions, justice would yet be able to avail herself of the steady light of science to guide her on her course: the change would put out many a will-o-the- wisp that can only lead her iuto swamps and pitfalls. And now with regard to the masses of the medical profession, we have a word or two to say, and we shall say it partly in the lan- guage of a public writer, whose disinterested- ness and moderation of temper will not be questioned: With regard to the medical men in this case (says the Spectator*), speaking of them collec- tively for there were distinctions in their be- havior they appear to have committed the mis- take of confounding the proper object of their vigilance. * ~ It usually happens that men make mistakes when they travel beyond their province. The medical men had nothing to do with Air. Wooler: the whole object of their re- gard ought to have been the disease and rescue of Airs. Wooler. If they had stuck to that ques- tion, their course would have been quite clear. ~ * It is evident that one course must have been quite successful: if the medical men had con- stituted themselves a committee en permanence, * January 12, 1856. had administered the medicaments themselves, and themselves alone, any further tampering with the dying woman would have been abso- lutely impossible. ~ ~ ~ The condition of Mrs. Wooler was one which at all events demanded a modest but an eager and peremptory investiga- tion ; not for the purpose of deciding questions of guilt or innocence, but for the purpose of finding out how the arsenic got where it was, and how its further administration could be prevented. Guilt or innocence might have been discovered by inquiry, but the first duty of the medical men was to do that work for its own sake. We can add nothing to this plain and am- ple definition of the duties of a medical practi- tioner: it includesso far the whole substance of medical morals. A medical practitioner volunteering his services in aid of the crimi- nal police, is ln as false a position as a sol- dier-surgeon would be who should give the coup de grace to a wounded enemy with his amputating-knife. Out of this difficulty any individual right-thinking medical man can keep himself; but there is another Serbonian bog of suspicion, temptation, and (reflecting upon the common weakness of our nature, may we not even fear) guilt, in which too many medical practitioners are swamped, hampered, and from which they cannot ex- tricate themselves without legislative inter- vention. If there be any lesson taught more plainly than another by the Burdon case, it is that the prescriber, and the compounder and vender, of drugs should be distinct per- sons and that one should be a check upon the proceedings of the other. The physician should never administer medicines: the apothecary should never prescribe them. So long as the two arts are confounded and practised by the same hand, occasion is given for error, for negligence, for imputations founded or unfounded, and, we must say it, for the commission of crimO. For the present, time and space forbid us to do more than barely to touch upon this subject, and to suggest its relation with certain engrossing topics of the day. It is nevertheless worthy the most deliberate consideration of the public and the legislature; and if, as we sincerely hope, it may be forced upon their attention by recent events, some good will have been effected by ThE DocTon in TEE WiTNESS- Box. 94 A CAT-NURSE FOR YOUNG FOXES. From Chambers Journal, mouths, they used to be met by one of the A CAT-NURSE FOR YOUNG FOXES. foxes, which, in the twinkling of an eye, WHILST in Canada, some years since, I would snap it from them, and devour it on happened to be at the digging out of an old the spot; the foxes, at the same time, taking fox; and as a curiosity to show the people pretty good care that the kitt~ns should at the house, I brought away with me a pair never have an opportunity of treating them of the young ones, of which there happened in a like manner, as everythin~ they got to he no less than seven. As they appeared was invariably despatched upon the spot. to be no more than a day or two old, for they When, however, they did get enough, the could not see, and as they were in size not surplus was carefully concealed in some quiet much larger than kittens, some one proposed corner, over which they kept a watchful eye. to put them beside the cat, and see whether Hitherto, they had been allowed to run she would not rear them. The suggestion, about uncontrolled; but the female having from its very novelty, was at once adopted. killed a young gosling, they were forthwith At first, puss seemed to be quite reconciled confined in a pen, the sides of which were to them; but upon going afterwards to see about two feet high. Although they had how they were getI~ing on, the foxes were in- now outgrown the kittens considerably, puss deed in the box, but the cat and kittens had still acknowledged them; and regularly, disappeared. Having found out puss re- day after day, calling her kittens after her, treat, she and her kittens were again carried she and they leaped into the pen, where she back, and put along with the foxes; after suckled the whole four. In the cool of the feeding her well, and patting and clapping evening, the kittens also would invariably her, she was again left alone; and never be found in the pen, playing with the foxes, afterwards, until the foxes were pretty large, where the agility of the former was finely did she deny them the attentions of a mother. contrasted with the clumsy antics of the When put to the test, by a fox and a kitten latter. This state of innocent happiness being taken out and laid upon the floor, was, however, suddenly brought to a close. puss, whenever she heard the mewing of her Early one morning, the foxes had scraped a kitten, was at once on the spot, and catch- hole underneath their pen, and so got free. ing up the nearest no matter whether fox The first thing, therefore, that met the eye or kitten carried it away, and then re- upon going out, was the female fox trotting turned for the second. Afterwards, although past the door with a young turkey thrown the cry of the fox was different from that of over her back. Chase being given, she the kitten, being a kind of petulant whin- dropped it in a corner beside other four ing, yet, whenever she heard it, she paid as which she had killed, and then took refuge much attention to the one as to the other, under a pile of boards. After this, they was as soon on the spot, and as restless until were not only put back into their pen, but allowed to carry it off to her box. chained, which effectually prevented them At first it was feared that the foxes, aceus- from doing further mischief. tomed to teats of larger dimensions, might About this time, puss began to suspect, fail to find out those of the cat, which were apparently, that she had been played upon, hardly discernible amongst the fur, and so as her conduct towards the foxes, now about perish after all. As it was, they did not ap- as big as herself, began to change. True, pear to discover them until about the second she still brought in mice, and gave them as or third day; but after that and here is a freely to the cubs as to the kittens; but point for naturalists the teats gradually whenever they began to poke their noses grew to be as large as those of a dog, return- about her, she would salute them with a ing, however, afterward to their natural size. cuff on the side of the head, which made In course of time, puss began to bring in them shake their ears, and keep at a more mice, squirrels, and such like; and here I respectful distance. This, however, they may mention, that as she soon learned to took in good part, and always seemed to comprehend the distressed cry of the helpless consider it as a challenge to plky, as they foxes, so they now as truly comprehended immediately began to caper round about her particular cry when she brought in such her; and while the one attracted her atten- game; for no sooner was she heard, than off tion in front, the other would come creeping scampered both kittens and foxes, as though round the corners behind, and try to get up each fully comprehended the fact that the to her in that way. However, puss was first there was sure to get the prize. Here always as knowing as they, and soon placed the nature of the two kinds of animals was herself in a position commanding a view of distinctly exemplified. The kittens delighted both, ready to salute the ears of the first in fun, and liked to make the most of a that should approach. mouse when they got it; but often, when [The writer of these anecdotes, who gives they came trotting back with one in their his name, assures us of their verity. ED.] 98 POUR ENCOURAGER LBS AUTRES LAVATER S WARNING. WENSLEY-LE-DALE. WEESLEY-LE-DALE hath no stain on his ermine, Wensley-le-dale hath no feuds to determine, Wensley-le-dale is wise, weighty, and winning, Yet Wensley-le-dale gainst the Peerage is sin- ning Take a title for life not to go to heirs male? The Lords wont stand that, my bold Wensley- le-dale. The Baron of Bareacres pockets his pride, Begs, borrows, and sponges, and shirks, far and wide, lie trades on his title, and discounts his name, His conduct is wild, and his speeches are tame; Yet peers, strictest parkd in proprietys pale, Like Bareacres better than Wensley-le-dale. For Wensley-le-dale not a Law-Lord will fight, Though his pleas were so sharp and his judg- ments so bright: To Wensley-le-dale, as ex-judge, yet not Lord, Neither woolsack nor peers bench a seat will af- ford; Like Mahomets coffin, till Cranworth prevail, In a sort of Lords Limbo hangs Wensley-le-dale. Wensley-le-dale with his summons is come. Who are you? askd their Lordships, ob- structive and glum; Though the Queen gainst the peers dont like setting her will, There is, quoth bold Parke, a Prerogative still; So t is no use to meet me with Fergusons tale Of You cannot lodge here, said Wensley-le- dale. Lord Lyndhurst was steel, and Lord Campbell was stone, They scoffd at his patent and bade him begone; An appeal to the Lords as tis idle to try, Give their Privlege Committee and them the go-by; We want peers to judge causes, but not their heirs male, And the Country will stand by bold Wensley-le dale. Punch. POUR ENCOURAGER~LES AUTRES. THERE once was an admiral Byng was his name At Minorca, t was said, on our flag he brought shame. Those who studied the facts said it was nt his fault, That the Government grudged him the means of assault; But the party in power Byngs party was not, So Admiral Byng was condemnd to be shot. And this view of the case Voltaires bon-mot cx- prest, That the Admiral died To encourage the rest. Simpsons, Cardigans, Lucans, and Aireys, and all, On whose backs our Crimean discredit must fall, Bless your stars, you have fallen on days when the Times, Not Court-martials and Commons, judge~ you and your crimes. You re tried and found guilty, but certainly not Condemnd ( to encourage the rest) to be shot; With promotion rewarded, and orders and stars, You show brows without blushes, and breasts without scars. An incapable Airey, whose apathy cost Many thousands their lives from mud, fever, and frost, Of England appears Quartermaster-in-Chief, The same post that abroad in he came to such grief. A Lucan, oer heel-ball and pipe-clay supreme; A Cardigan, too, of Park heroes the cream, Whose blundering, displayd on the grandest of scales, Reduced their troop-horses to gnaw their own tails One a crack hussar regiment as Colonel neglects, Which the other, as General Inspector, in- spects! English Officers mark tis a lesson for you: Do nothing yourselves, and what s well done undo: Be as sluggish, short-sighted, conceited, and dull, As mighty in muddle, as monstrous in mull, As inapt at the learning of all you should learn, As devoid of wise forethought and generous con- cern; Public wrath and contempt as they ye stemmd you will stem, And will reach, in the long run, to honor like them. We are soft now-a-days as our fathers were hard; To encourage the rest where they shot, we reward. Punch. LAVATERS WARNING. TRUST him little who doth raise To the same height both great and small, And sets the sacred crown of praise, Smiling, on the head of all. Trust him less who looks around To censure all with scornful eyes, And in everything has found Something that he dare despise. But for one who stands apart, Stirrd by nought that can befall, With a cold indifferent heart, Trust him least and last of all. Household Wordsb YOUTH AND AGE. From the Family Herald. YOUTH AND AGE. THREE OF four generations of men are ways living together in the world, looking thereat and judging thereof, and coming to such opposite conclusions respecting all that they see and hear, that the world may be said to be so many different worlds to the different generations that are forever observ- ing it. To childhood the world is all a wonder. And Pa and Ma its omnipotent rulers. The child believes that Pa can do everything, and procure everything, and with great re- luctance at last divests itself of the beauti- ful illusion. It is an awful discovery, even to a child, when the truth first glances on its brooding mind that Pa is not omnipotent. The first peep into the wilderness of life; the first feeling of helpless isolation; but, at the same time, the first feeling of self-reliance and the necessity for personal activity. A new illusion, however, instantly sup- plies the place of the first. The self-reliance becomes preposterous; not, perhaps, in res- pect to its present, but its future capabilities. What wonders it will do when it is a man, or a woman! There is no position too high for it to attain or deserve; no conquest too great for it to make. Hope whispers flatter- ing tales to youth, fairy tales such ns youth delights to read, and through the atmosphere of which it looks at the world, but more es- pecially into the vista of futurity and the arena of destiny. One illusion vanishes after another. Life seems nothing else than a tour through the illusory world, where the traveller communes with phantoms as he passes along, listens to their vain imaginings, attempts to realize the golden dreams which they engender or encour- age, fails and sighs, but still goes on listening to other phantoms and revelling in other dreams, which grow fainter and fainter as life advances, but never for a moment cease to occupy the mind. Our centennarian cor- respondent, Nancy Nettletop, atill loves as she did when a girl of sixteen, still lives in day-dreams, and makes herself the heroine of chivalrous and romantic adventures in the world within. It must have been Nancy Nettletop, or some such elderly dame, whom the Duke of Wellington dined with one day, when he asked her grand-daughter at what age a lady ceased to think of love and mar- DCIX. LIVING AGE. VOL. XIII. 7 riage. The young lady referred him to her mother, the mother referred him to her moth- er, and the old lady, when personally inter- rogated by his grace, replied in French, Ii faut que vous demandiez dune dame plus ag~e que moi. You must put that question to a lady who is older than I am. We sup- pose it is the same with old bachelors. Wave after wave of illusion follows in everlasting succession, till Death closes the scene, or in- troduces the dreamer into a sphere of richer imagination. Imagination is the true life, after all. The dullest amongst us lives more in the ideal than in the real world. Yes, even the greatest worldling of mid- dle age, the most worldly, and perhaps the most real of all the ages, is only a dreamer. He realizes fortunes in imagination, buys and sells in fancy, calculates contingencies and probabilities, lives in hope of something hap- pening to somebody, and in preparation for this something ideal he does something real which costs both time and money. Sometimes he is right and makes a hit, and sometimes he is wrong. But when he fails in one dream, he betakes himself to another. Indeed, he often carries on a score of dreams together, and lives in faturity even when walking the streets, when satisfying his hunger or his thirst, smoking his pipe, endorsing a bill, or transacting any of the ordinary affairs of life. How much more ideal the youngster who has no business to transact! He lives in futurity, having no past, and the present having always something wanting which passion is longing for. Age, however, has a past, and therefore delights in reminiscences. It clothes the past with a romance of futurity. It makes a fairy land of the scenery of youthful life, and fairy spirits of the companions of child- hood and youth. It reverses the order of Nature with the clearness of its juvenile rec- ollections. It forgets the eVents of yester- day, but remembers the times fourscore years ago with the accuracy of a recent impression.. Yesterday seems to be farther off thar~ last century; and yesterday is gloomy, disconso- late, and heartless; but last century is full of life and gayety, even more so to old fancy than it was to young reality. But old fancy delights to paint the past in brilliant colors; it is its hearts favorite, and it bestows upon. it all its fondness. Everything was beauti 97 YOUTH AND AGE. ful in its young days. Poverty was then almost unknown only a few paupers, that s all ; hut nothing like the mountains of misery and the lakes of tears that make such High- land scenery of these real times. No wonder it goes back and wanders amongst the green meadows, or goes a nutting in the under- woods, or a fishing in the brooks of young days. It is a golden age, and the heart de- lights to live in a golden age, be it past or future. Age has seen one, and regrets it, but it does not cease to hope for one also. No; hope clings to the soul forever, and clings to beautify it. The finest thoughts that we possess have their origin in the sug- gestions of this gay deceiver, who does not altogether belie her own promises, nor even keep them to the ear when she breaks them to the sense, but, like the old man who told his sons that there was a treasure hid in his fields, which they dug for diligently, and reaped a most abundant harvest, which was better than gold; so hope, the gay deceiver, that sets men a dreaming about Utopian pleasures, never fails to realize some other good that they did not labor for, and thus cultivates both the imaginative and the real world by one mysterious act of ingenious im- position. how rarely youth can anticipate the char- acter of age, or foresee even the outlines of its own history! How reluctant, also, it is to believe that it will descend from the poetry of hope to the prose of reality! The pride of youth both vows and threatens what it can never fulfil. It vows to love as never heart loved before, and to bring up children as they were never before brought up. Wonders it will do when it comes of age, and undertakes the office which generations have successively undertaken, and failed to fulfil in the Arcadian style. It will also not mend stockings nor old clothes, nor do any such unromantic things that a refined imagination so very just- ly abhors. It means to realize all its beau- ideals whenever it begins to rear its bache- brs children and maidens bairns. But the poetry goes out as the honeymoon wanes, and the prose deliberately comes in, like a bro- kers man, and occupies its place illusions vanish and spells break one after another, like panes of glass in a hail-storm. We then begin to calculate the damage, and come to matter-of-fact reason without rhyme. Did you ever see a donkey stand on the top of a ladder 1 Then just imagine it walk- ing down. That is life. But the donkey must go up as- well as come down. What do you make of its going up! 0! that is only the dream the day-dream of the fancy. We are all mounting the ladder occa- sionally, in expectation of seeing some prom- ised land, or reaping some imaginary reward and ever ready we all are to mount so soon as the stimulant is applied Only four- pence more, ladies and gentlemen, and up goes the donkey. Companions of early life! how destiny scatters you at last, and makes the friends of youth the strangers of age! What a tri- - fling matter will terminate forever a friendship which seems to be eternal! Geographical - distance difference of rank and fortune difference of profession in mature life dis- solve in empty air the vain protestations of inexperience. One of you makes a pursuit of wealth avid finds it; he gradually consorts with richer people, and begins to talk big like them now he keeps a horse now a tan- dem and a tiger now a carriage and a foot- manand step by step, as he mounts up, the others lose sight of him as his elevation increases. Intimacy diminishes excuses are made on the one hand, and accepted formally with increasing suspicions on the other, till at last the inequality of the aecquaintaneeship becomes its dissolution, and scarcely even the nod of recognition is given or accepted. Even in small towns this will take place, much more so in large cities, where the alienation advances to perfect estrangement. Distance produces a similar result but in this case the estrangement is not so com- plete as when the parties live t6gether in the same locality. Friends that are merely sep- arated by distance are happy to see one another when one visits the place of the oth- ers residence, and old acquaintanceship is often revived by such pleasant reunions. But no such revivals as this take place amongst friends who are separated by rank and for- tune. These are wider gulfs than even the wide Atlantic or Pacific, and form impassa- ble intervals between the companions of youth and childhood. How melancholy to think that vanity for it is nothing else has so much influence over the human heart as to destroy loves, and friendships, and the sweet communions of life which age delights to reflect on, when it YOUTH AND AGE. has even discarded the alliance of the heroes and heroines of its romance! They live still, but they are not now as they were then. Then they were young, and trained, and ex- perienced like myself. Now I have mixed in very different society, been educated to other tastes, and formed to other judgments of men and things. We have grown up different beings entirely travelled through life in op- site directions cherished opinions directly the reverse of each other; and tastes that are incapable even of mutual understanding. I bear them no malice. I should even delight to see them raised to an equality with my- self; but inequalities cannot blend in this ~rld. Oil can sooner mix with water, than one rank and degree of wealth in society can coalesce with another. They must part, and keep apart, to fulfil their respective desti- nies. Such is the conclusion and the self- justification, and we cannot blame it. An omnipotent law of our nature seems to have ordained it. We sometimes hear of great men raised from obscurity preserving the humble friendships of early life, and bestow- ing little favors on the friends and associates of their youth; hut these are facts to be talked about, and to be made the subjects of newspaper paragraphs; and, moreover, it is only a favor conferred; the companionship is gone, the frank