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INTERVIEW OF MR. FOX WITH BONAPARTE.
this same new government and Buonaparte. It would have been an instructive lesson for Mr. Pitt himself, could he invisibly, with Minerva by his side, have contemplated the scene; he might then have studied history, and discovered that such interference and conduct in foreign powers, as that of his and the allied potentates, he had made Cromwell a king, or an emperor, and fixed the succession of his family.
THE insertion of Mr. Fox's letter to Lord Grey in our first number, appears to have given so much pleasure, that we have gladly looked out for something more respecting this interesting statesman, to lay before our readers.
Changes of time give a new interest to the scenes of the moral world, as changes of place do to those of a landscape. The following passage in the memoirs of Mr. Fox's latter years, written by his private secretary Mr. Trotter, has appeared, no doubt, often enough in older publications, and may be familiar (at least in general recollection) to many of our readers. But even they will look at it with a new interest, when they consider that not only is Mr. Fox dead, and all that splendid military court scene vanished, and Napoleon himself gone after it, but how he is gone, and what has happened since his ruin, and what new hopes have opened their prospects to the world, such as Mr. Fox loved through all the clouds of party, rank, and office, and such (we suspect) as Napoleon never loved at all, nor
It is for this reason that we always loved the memory of Fox, however we might venture to think otherwise than he did respecting the means of bringing about the happiness of mankind. That is not the question in these unpolitical pages. But party, &c., were the accidents of his position in society, as they are, more or less, of us all. His heart was a fine, open, manly, unaffected human heart, of the truest order, sensitive to all genial impulses, but not to be moved out of its testimony to what it thought best and truest, by flattery any more than fear; and if Whigs, Tories and Radicals, were all made up of such people as he, they would soon come to an understanding, and find out which was best for the world. But it is the progress of his beloved books and humanities that must make him so.
What we would most direct the reader's attention to in the following extract, however interesting in other points of view, is the agitation of Bonaparte's nerves, when he found himself standing in the presence of Fox. We have little doubt that it was owing to a consciousness of the sinister views with which he ultimately ruined his own greatness, and the comparative vice and puerility of them, compared with those of the man who stood before him in the simplicity of truth.
As we visited the Museum, (says Mr. Trotter) as often as time could be spared, I recollect one day that all the company were attracted to the windows of the Louvre, by a parade in the Place de Carousel. The guards, and some other French troops, were exercising. Mr. Fox, with the others, went to the window, but he instantly turned away on seeing the soldiers. This occurred some time before the levee; and on that day, as there was a grand parade, we remained in a private apartment of the Tuilleries till it was over. parte, mounted on a white charger, and accompanied by some general officer, reviewed his troops, amounting to about six thousand, with great rapidity. The consular troops made a fine appearance, and the whole was a brilliant and animating spectacle. Mr Fox paid little or no attention to it, conversing chiefly, while it lasted with Count Markoff, the Russian ambassador. 1 observed Mr. Fox was disinclined not only to military, but to any pompous display of the power of the French government. An enemy to all ostentation, he disliked it everywhere, but the parade of military troops in the heart of the metropolis, carrying with it more than vain pomp, must naturally have shocked, rather than entertained, such principles as those of Mr. Fox.
On the day of the great levee, which was to collect so many representatives of nations and noble strangers of every country to pay their respects to the First Consul of France, now established as the sole head of government for life, several apartments, having the general name of the Salle des Ambassadeurs, were appropriated for the crowd of visitors at the levee, previous to their being admitted to the First Consul's presence. Lord Holland, Lord Robert Spencer, Lord St. John, Mr. Adair, and myself, accompanied Mr. Fox there. I must acknowledge that the novel and interesting scene amused and interested me to the highest degree. This grand masquerade of life was inconceivably striking-the occasion of assembling,-the old palace of the Bourbons, the astonishing attitude that France had assumed affected the imagination, and almost overpowered the judgment. A latent smile was often to be caught on the countenances of different intelligent and enlightened men; it said, very significantly, can this be reality? can so wonderful a fabric be permanent ?
His toils were now approaching; there was a much greater number of English presented than of any other nation. Mr. Merry, the English Ambassador, appeared on the part of the British government, to sanction and recognize the rank and government of the First Consul! Mr. Merry, whose nation had, under the blind auspices of an intemperate minister, fatally interfered with the internal concerns of a great people, and had vainly attempted to counteract the success of their efforts. What a subject had be for a letter, in the style of Barillon, for the perusal of Mr. Pitt, or his friend Mr. Addington, then acting as Pitt's deputy, or locum tenens, in the government! Mr. Merry-then acting under Lord Hawkesbury, the Quixotic marcher to Paris, which same lord was now receiving a magnificent present of a service of China of unrivalled beauty and elegance, from
"What think you of all this?" said the chevalier d'Azara, ambassador from Spain, addressing himself to Mr. Fox. The other gave an expressive smile :" It is an astonishing time," continued he,-" pictures, statues I hear the Venus de Medicis is on her way-what shall we see next?" A pleasant dialogue ensued; these enlightened statesmen diverting themselves, when scolding and anger could avail nothing. The Turkish ambassador graced the splendid scene; a diminutive figure, accompanied by a suite of fine and handsome men;-he reposed on a sofa ;-the heat was excessive, and his cross-legged attitude but little relieved him ;— his companion spoke French with great ease; and some of them were fine Grecian figures.
Count Markkoff! covered with diamonds, of a most forbidding aspect-of sound sense, however,-malgre, a face no lady would fall in love with, and an ungraceful air. The Marquis Lucchesini! the King of Prussia's Ambassador, who, from an obscure situation, by having become the reader to a minister, was elevated to the corps diplomatique-gaudily dressed-always with several conspicuous colours,-one thought of a foreign bird on seeing him; and his physiognomy corroborated the idea-agreeable, however; pleasing in manners; easy in his temper; and enjoying rationally the amusing scenes around him.
The Marquis de Gallo! the Neapolitan Ambassadoran unmeaning nobleman of the old school,-florid in manner, but not calculated to produce effect in politics or conversation. Have I forgotten the Count Cobengel! that sage and venerable negociator was there. A small, emaciated figure,—pale, and worn out with the intrigues
of courts, he seemed to have been reserved to witness the scene before us, as a refutation of all his axioms and systems. With excellent good sense, he took all in good part-he was too wise to betray disatisfaction, and too polite not to bend with the gale. The American Ambassador, Mr. Livingston, plain and simple in manners and dress,-representing his republic with propriety and dignity. Of these, I believe M. D'Azare, held the first rank for intellect; he had all the appearance of a man of genius-he seemed very much to enjoy the society of Mr. Fox,-he, and the Count Cobenzel, are both since dead, as, no doubt, are many others of the actors in the grand drama of that day.
The illustrious statesman of England, who that day attracted every eye, is himself withdrawn also from mortal scenes!
A number of English noblemen and gentlemen,— many Russians-Swedish officers, with the white scarf on their arm, also crowded the room. The Cardinal Caprara! representing His Holiness, the Pope, with his scarlet stockings and cap, was to me a novel sight,he was a polite and dignified ecclesiastic, and, but that I was imbued a little with the prejudice of English
historians and other authors, I should have found nothing extraordinary in the respectable cardinal. I am now ashamed that I did.
This grand assemblage was detained a considerable time in the Salle des Ambassadeurs, during which, several servants in splendid laced liveries handed round coffee, chocolate, the richest and finest wines, and cake, upon china, bearing the initial B. without any armorial, royal, or established marks of power. The heat was excessive, and expectation, wearied with the pause, when the door opened, and the Prefet du Palais anounced to the Cardinal Caprara, that the first consul was ready, he afterwards called upon M. D'Azara, upon which every one followed without regular order or distinction of rank. As we ascended the great stair-case of the Thuilleries, between files of musketeers, what a sentiment was excited!
As the assumption of the consulship for life was a decided step, tending not only to exclude every branch of the old dynasty, but to erect a new one, every sensible man considered this day as the epoch of a new and regular government. Buonaparte was virtually king henceforth. As we passed through the lofty state rooms of the former kings of France, still hung with the ancient tapestry, very little, if at all, altered, the instability of human grandeur was recalled to the mind more forcibly than it had yet been. The long line of the Bourbons started to the view! I breathed with difficulty! Volumes of history were reviewed in a glance. Monarchs! risen from the mouldering tomb, where is your royal race? The last who held the sceptre dyed the scaffold with his blood, and sleeps, forgotten and unknown, without tomb or memorial of his name! Rapid was the transition succeeding! We reached the interior apartment, where Buonaparte, First Consul, surrounded by his generals, ministers, senators, and officers, stood between the second and third consuls, Le Brun and Cambaceres, in the centre of a semicircle, at the head of a room! The numerous assemblage from the Salle des Ambassadeurs, formed into another semi-circle, joined themselves to that, at the head of which stood the First Consul.
Buonaparte, of a small, and by no means commanding figure, dressed plainly, though richly, in the embroidered consular coat, without powder in his hair, looked at the first view, like a private gentleman, indifferent as to dress, and devoid of all haughtiness in
his air. The two consuls, large and heavy men, seemed pillars too cumbrous to support themselves, and during the levee, were sadly at a loss what to dowhether the snuff-box or pocket handkerchief was to be appealed to, or the left leg exchanged for the right.
The moment the circle was formed, Buonaparte began with the Spanish ambassador, then went to the American, with whom he spoke some time, and so on, performing his part with ease, and very agreeablyuntil he came to the English ambassador, who, after the presentation of some English noblemen, announced to him, Mr. Fox! He was a good deal flurried, and after indicating considerable emotion, very rapidly said"Ah! Mr. Fox!-I have heard with pleasure of your arrival. I have desired much to see you.-I have long admired in you the orator and friend of his country, who, in constantly raising his voice for peace, consulted that country's best interests-those of Europe,-and of the human race. The two great nations of Europe require peace; they have nothing to fear-they ought to understand and value one another. In you, Mr. Fox, I see, with great satisfaction, that great statesman, who recommended peace, because there was no just object of war; who saw Europe desolated to no purpose, and who struggled for its relief."
Mr. Fox said little, or rather nothing in reply,-to a complimentary address to himself he always found invincible repugnance to answer; nor did he bestow one word of admiration or applause upon the extraordinary and elevated character who addressed him. A few questions and answers relative to Mr. Fox's tour, terminated the entertainment.
MRS. GORE'S NEW NOVEL. "THE HAMILTONS."
We had busied ourselves with preparing this novel for our week's abstract, before we became thoroughly aware of its being a political treatise in disguise-an Abstract, itself, of the mistakes that preceded, and the astonishment that followed, the downfall of Toryism. We found it impossible, however, to give it up, first, because it was Mrs. Gore's; and second, because so good a book was not to be found in the time we had before us; and we reconciled ourselves to our inclinations, imprimis, because they were such, and last, not least, because in professing to "sympathize with all," as most truly we do, we here had an opportunity of proving that we do In avowing, therefore, that we agree in almost all the opinions of Mrs. Gore's book, and that she is not at all bound to make our admissions in extenuation of the faults of those whom she blames, (especially seeing that all reflective writers like herself really point to the same conclusions, though by another road,) it becomes us, in this Journal, to observe, that Tories, though their system is the most victimizing of all, are themselves victims, in common with every body else of circumstances and education, and partake deeply of those secret cares and disappointments, which all mankind seem destined to share, till all shall feel for all, and contrive to work out the common good. Who, indeed, that reads this sharp and interesting work, or only our abstract of it, can fail to see that it is the system and not the fellowcreatures which the authoress holds up to reprobation; and that these fellow-creatures, like the most uneducated of the classes to whom they think themselves superior, are spoilt each by the other, generation after generation, son by father, father by his father, till "mistake! mistake! only," is the cry of the relieved human heart.
Upon the talents of the fair author we have not time to say what we could wish; but it is impossible to speak of her at all, and not give her our cordial, however poor and brief thanks, for her generous superiority to the conventionalities in which she must have been brought up, (knowing them so well,) and for the evidences she is incessantly manifesting of an universality of reading and thinking, of public and private sympathy, of seriousness and gaity, of wit, style, womanly grace, and sentiment, which present altogether the most remarkable instance of what is called a masculine understanding in a feminine shape, that we remember to have met with. The present age, has been an age of women as well as of men, in the sense most honourable to both sexes; and the brilliant woman before us has an honourable niche in it to herself.
Scarcely a town in England but possesses its "righ of vantage.' Brighton prides itself on its royal marine residence; Oxford upon its University, Birmingham upon its factories of buttons; Chester upon its cellars of cheese; every place upon its something! Laxington, a neat obscure borough, some ten miles Ñ.N.E. of Northampton, had long been accustomed to prize itself upon its gentility. The gentility of Laxington consists in a tory exclusiveness; the whole village is Tory; the Whig interest being represented by the highly respectable Lady Berkeley, the widow of a gallant baronet, who died
for his country, and her two daughters. The first germ of the more dreadful intruder, Reform, springs up in the manor-house itself, in the undutiful radical principles of the only son of Mr. Forbes, lord of the manor. hiatus in the circle of village grandees, made obvious in the emptiness of the long tenantless estate of Weald, is at length supplied, to the great delight of the village at large, in the person of a stirring Tory.
"Weald Park to be let!"-It was something of a degradation to the gentility of the neighbourhood; and the vicar expressed himself severely against the immorality of young Lord Lancashire, on learning that the loss of thirty thousand pounds on the turf was the immediate cause of this declension of dignity. But he spoke with due hesitation; for it was the first time, during a long life, that Dr. Mangles had ventured to find fault with a lord; and he was duly aware that the turf is a vice, of ali but right divine, to majesties, royal highnesses, and peers of the realm. Nay, he almost forgave the noble delinquent, on finding that the new tenant of Weald was not only one of his Majesty's ministers, but no less a person than the intimate friend of his honourable patron, the Right Honourable the Earl of Tottenham. The fact was clearly ascertained. Mr. Smith had been written
to-Mr. Smith's opinion of the manor ascertained; the lease,
for fourteen years, was already in progress of engrossment.
The value of such an accession to the great talkers and little doers of Laxington, may readily be conceived. Their neighbourly smypathies had, in fact, long required extension. Lady Ashley, the fair widow of Stoke, was almost always resident on the continent. The Cadogans of Everleigh were fonder of London or Brighton than of their hereditary oaks. Old Forbes was getting into his dotage; his only son, a rising lawyer, was rarely seen in Northamptonshire; and, although Lady Berkeley, of Green-oak, and her two handsome daughters were of inestimable value, as the heroines of their romance, not a single man of fortune was to be found in the county worth the attention of either. When it appeared, therefore that Mr. Hamilton, the new tenant of Weald, had a son and daughter of an age to form alliance in the neighbourhood, Lord Lancashire was fairly acqitted. They rejoiced to hear of their new neighbour's man-cook, and were proud of his groom of the chambers; but the prospect of a match for Maria Berkeley, and-who knows? -perhaps a wife for Bernard Forbes, was fairly worth them both; Fen. Smith walked over to Green-oak under an um brella the following morning, during a heavy shower to acquaint Lady Berkeley with the news.
But her ladyship was not the woman to be startled into a confession of satisfaction.
"These Hamiltons will not be here till September," she ob served with ostentatious equanimity. "I trust we shall then be at Worthing: if not, I shall have no objection to visit them. Although brought up a staunch Whig, I never allow family politics to interfere with neighbourly sociability. Mr. Hamilton, Tory as he is, may be a very worthy man."
Her pretty daughters, Maria ard Susan, well aware that this tirade was intended only to mark their mother's sense of superiority to the Smiths, and the patron of the Smiths, Lord Tottenham,-smiled over their embroidery. The Berkeley girls were almost as sensible as the coterie of Laxington to the ad.. vantage of having young and cheerful neighbours at Weald Park.
Mr. Hamilton, the new proprietor of Weald, was essentially an official man;-had been born in place, bred in place, nurtured in place. His father had lived and died in Scotland-yard, with the word 'Salary' on his lips; and young George, at five-andtwenty, the private Secretary of a public minister, trusting to be at five-and-fifty a minister with secretaries of his own, looked upon the treasury as his patrimony,-upon the duties of office as the virtues of his vocation, and upon the stability of Tory ascendancy as upon the immutability of the universe!-The very soul within him was steeped in office!
"From the moment a man of ordinary faculties is thrown into the vortex of official life, all trace of his individual nature is lost for ever!-Thenceforward, he exists but as a cypher of the national debt, a fraction of administration,-a leaf upon the mighty oak we claim as the emblem of Britain. There is no mistaking an official man. All trades and professions have their slang and charlatanism; and that of Privy Councillor, although of a higher tone, is a no less inveterate jargon than that of a horse-dealer. Long practice had rendered this dialect a mothertongue to Mr. Hamilton!-His arguments abounded in ministerial inysticism;-his jokes were parliamentary;-his notes of invitation, formal as official documents. His anecdotes were authenticated by dates; he spoke as if before a committee, or acting under the influence of a whipper in. He scarcely knew how to leave a room without the ceremony of pairing off, or to hazard an opinion, lest he should be required to justify it to his party.
To such a man, the incidents of private life were of trivial account. His friends might die when it suited them. Mr. Hamilton was too much accustomed to see places filled up, to fancy any loss irreparable; and, as to births and marriages, they were but drawbacks on the velocity of the great vehicle of public bu siness. All was activity with him and about him.
"Mr. Hamilton's two children alluded to, are a son and daughter, Augustus and Julia; the latter of whom marries a younger son of Lord Tottenham, an empty headed, egotistical young placeman. An attachment arises between Augustus Hainilton and Susan Berkeley, deeper and sincerer on the part of the girl: for Augustus is absent for a long time, to her great dismay and grief. At length however he returns, and succeeds in reassuring her with lame excuses, and equivocal assurances of regard. In fact he is a beartless libertine, who is struck by her beauty, while the purity of her conduct, so much greater than what he is accustomed to encounter, is partly a source of admiration to him, partly of trouble, and ultimately of contempt. The father disapproves of the match. He hastens down to his seat at Laxington to expostulate, viva voce, with his son.
The explanation was a strong one.-Thirty years of public life had, however, imposed such a restraint on Mr. Hamilton's naturally impetuous temper, that he did not follow the custom of English fathers, on the English stage, by rating his son and heir, as his footinan might have rated the butler after a drunken honday. But the bitter cutting sarcasms of a worldly tongue re more difficnit to bear, than an out-burst of vulgar indignation. Augustus listened in furious silence, while his father coolly recapitulated all his follies and enormities,-his debts,-his galJantries, his gambling-his selfishness, his uselessness,-his ingratitude -It was a fearful moment. The father insulting his worthless son;-the son secretly despising the scornful father. One reply, however, was uttered audibly enough.-The more Mr. Hamilton reviled him, the more obstinately was Augustus determined to persist in his engagement to Susan Berkeley. "I have pledged my word,' was his sullen and reiterated
You have pledged it on other occasions, when it proved no very effectual bond,' observed his father with equal sangfroid, "Congratulate me then on the amendment of my morals!' said Augustus, sneeringly. For once, I am about to perform an honourable action.'
"At the suggestion of Sir Edward Berkeley's expected return to England, rejoined Mr. Hamilton, hoping to irritate the young man out of his self possession.
"At the suggestion of my own inclination,' replied Augus tus, with a kindling eye, but in a phlegmatic tone:' which, as you must be tolerably aware, I am accustomed to treat with the greatest respect. Let us understand each other! my dear father! I WILL marry Miss Berkeley, say or do what you lease. I may have behaved like a vilain elsewhere; here,
allow me to retrieve myself. Your influence with government
Augustus paused; and, instead of a rejoinder, Mr. Hamilton
"You will admit,' proceeded Augustus, 'that your peerage is too safe to require a reinforcement of your interest by any measure of mine: and as to fortune, although Miss Berkeley's is almost too trifling for mention to you, whose income counts more than double the principal, yon must not forget that she is prudent, economical, unexacting.'
"A country girl, without tact, without address!'
"Ask any of the people who were staying here last Autumn, except that venomous gnat Varden, and they will tell you, that Lord Shetland and your friend Lord Baldock thought her prettier and more elegant than Julia. The Marquis was always by her side.'
“A new light seemed to break in upon the official man. His
like your's. My sister's marriage would have deprived it of its
"The presence of female society is indispensable to a house
"I see how it is," said Hamilton, affecting to cede to the force of destiny. I, who have sacrificed myself, my whole life long, to the interests of my children, shall be compelled to sanction a measure I totally disapprove. Such prospects as you and Julia have thrown away!-My daughter refusing Clancastace, to marry a good looking fool with his maintenance at the minister's mercy: my son neglecting a woman of Lady Ashley's property to marry."
"A beautiful girl,-the daughter of a man whose monument the nation have placed in St. Paul's.-"
"And whose widow, in the pension list?""
"Their descent and connections being every way superior to our own.""
Having once determined upon permitting the marriage, Hamilton, for the sake of his own dignity, makes liberal allowances to the young couple. "And these gratuities, which, between any other father and son, would have been accorded with grace, and received with gratitude, were announced by the arid-minded Hamilton, in the tone of a Chancellor of the Exchequer, giving out the items of a budget; and accepted with a misgiving air by the supercilious son!
"I am unforunately engaged to the Berkeleys this evening,' said Augustus, looking at the clock, as if anxious to escape from a disagreeable family scene, And as I cannot venture to ask you to accompany me"
"And why not?' interrupted Mr. Hamilton, do you sup pose that, having once given my consent to this imprudent match, I am not prepared to go through the ceremonies usual on such occasions? Do you imagine that I would lend occasion to those cackling idiots at Laxington to send a whisper into the world, through the Tottenhams, that I had been deficient in courtesy to the family of my daughter-in-law?-No, no! Pray do not allow such people as the Smiths' and Mangles' to despise us for ill. breeding; whatever other bad quality they may have discovered in the family."
And, in pursuance of his system of conciliation, Mr. Hamilton was shortly afterwards seated on Lady Berkeley's sofa, in all the respectability of his white hair and suit of sables-charming her with his high-bred bow, his mild suavity of accent, his treasury smile, his deference to herself, his paternal tenderness to her daughter. But the hypocrite was taken in his own snare: -he became really pleased with Susan;-he was struck, for the first time, with the singular grace of her manners;-he felt that he should be proud of her-that she would embellish his circle, and do honour to his name. There was nothing to be ashamed of in the connexion. Lady Berkeley, although a bore, was a woman of a distinguished appearance; Marcia was majesty itself. Altogether, for a bad match, it had its extenuations.
"The young couple are married, much to the delight of Lady Berkeley and the distress of Marcia, who imagines her sister would be happier with her plainer, bnt sincerer, and wiser suitor, Bernard Forbes a rising young barrister.
"The tears on Mrs. Hamilton's Brussels lace veil were soon
"His lordship is just now in the best of humours,' said the
"As quiet as you please. But, of course, there is but one
"I shall amuse myself by waiting till your return,' said Susan, smiling, 'it will be quite occupation enough; and I hope to see a great deal of Julia. Do you forget what a kind letter your sister wrote me on our marriage?"
"Julia will contrive to make you forget it if you attempt to wean her from society."
You are thinking of her as Miss Hamilton. But so at. tached as she is to Mr. Tottenham
"You are thinking of her as Miss Hamilton," cried Augustus, laughing. Julia is at heart a rake, and on that very account she and Tottenham suit each other precisely!'
"But you will be a great deal with me? inquired Susan, looking anxionsly at her husband.
"I shall be constantly with you: unless when I have enengagements in town, one has always some engagement or
But shall we not reside sometimes in the country?
"That will be delightful!' said Susan, in a dejected tone."
stead of welcoming her to the room in which so much of their future life must pass together, he was, therefore, actually smiling over idle notes of congratulation or invitation!
"But the billets were soon finished and thrust into his pocket: and Augustus made his appearance, as full of gratitude and enthusiasm, as his father could desire; to enlarge upon Lord Laxington's generosities, and point out to his wife's admiration the care with which her favourite books and music had been collected, her conservatory furnished, and a door of communication opened between her dressing-room and that devoted to his own use. Poor Susan was, perhaps, of opinion, that she should have been more comfortable, more at her ease, surrounded by a degree of simplicity consonant with her early habits; but, as her husband seemed anxious to force upon her admiration the damask and gilding, bronze and ormoulu, mother-o'-pearl and mosaic, which adorned her boudoir, she was liberal in her applause. Lord Laxington quitted the room ere the thanks of Augustus and his wife were half exhausted.
And, so, Susy, my father is actually going to make a pet of yon? cried young Hamilton, throwing himself on the sofa, and bursting into laughter, so soon as the door was fairly closed on Lord Laxington. "Est il ridicule ce cher Papa"-When we men get into our second childhood, it is amazing what a vo cation we display for the toy-shop!'
"It is very kind in him to have taken so much pains for my accommodation,' said Susan, painfully startled by her husband's sudden change of tone, from the cordiality assumed during Lord Laxington's presence.'
"Kind? You will learn to know him better, one of these days! Not an ell of brocade, not an inch of rosewood,-was placed here on our account!"
"The furniture is new,' replied Mrs. Hamilton, looking round, somewhat bewildered.
"New as yourself, my little wife, who have much ground to go over before you discover that all my father's proceedings are directed to the approbation of that great wil de bœuf-the eye of the world! You and I have as little to thank him for, in these baubles, as the king his parliament for the paraphernalia of a coronation! But n'importe! It is something to find the Chancellor of our Exchequer in a good humour. *
"The following morning Augustus was looking over 'the collection of great names on the cards left in Spring Gardens, by way of recognition of the visitability of Lord Laxington's daughter-in-law. You must take care, love, that all these people's cards are returned; and it shall be my task to make you acquainted with those I really wish you to know. With my father's political associates and their families, you must, of course, be intimate; many of them, by the way, being the last women in the world I could present to your notice.' "Then why must I?'
"Because you will be constantly thrown into their society. Party influence is paramount even to the grand dogma of exclusivism. The tories are accustomed to stand shoulder to shoulder, and sink or swim together.'
"But surely you are no great politician? I have heard you speak so scornfully of parties and party-men?
"In the abstract! But are you such a little goose as to be ignorant that party is our rock of anchorage? that we live by office, and starve by defeat? that we exist only by a long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether?'
"Susan heard only the first part of the sentence. There was something in the words live or starve,' which seemed to cast a gloom upon the gaudy trappings of the apartments. She looked round her with a glance that inferred, should we not be happier, poor and independent, than in splendid bondage such
"But Augustus saw nothing of the glance or its inference. He was watching out of the window a fight between two ragged boys in Bird-cage walk. Had he even seen and comprehended it, his reply would have been unequivocally negative. He had never been either poor or independent. He had no experience in such matters. His political fetters were second nature to him. He was a fox without a tail; but the appendage had been missing since his birth; he had been bred in the trammels of official life, just as the coachman's son is brought up a stable boy. He looked upon parties and politics as a mode or ceremonial of civilized life; and upon office as a thing devised by potentates to enjoy their services of plate and opera.boxes.
"I am going to the Travellers' for an hour or two,' said he, -(the fight having ended in one of the sturdy little vagabond's being carried senseless and bleeding from the field of action!) Will you drive with me by and by? I will order the phaeton at five, and we can take a turn in the park.'
"But although poor Susan thankfully accepted the proposal, it struck her (new as he called her!) when Angustus had quitted the room, that, between the hours of twelve and five, there was leisure for something more than a lounge at the Tra vellers'.
"Unfortunately Mrs. Hamilton was not in the habit of being alone. She misses the society of her affectionate and intellectual sister; and now she had no longer Marcia to talk to,-no ! not even by letter, with the unreserve which alone makes correspondence a substitute for nearer intercourse. For want of better amusement during their tour, Augustus had contracted a habit of reading all her sister's letters; and Susan was checked in commenting upon her new house or dwelling upon reminiscences of her old, lest Marcia's reply should contain observations offensive to the jealousy or provocative of the ridicule of her husband. Hamilton was apt to laugh at what he considered the flightiness and romance of Miss Berkeley's character, and to express his amazement at the épanchemens de caur exchanged between two sisters loving each other with a degree of affection, such as his lukewarm feelings towards Mrs. Tottenham, and those of Julia in return, afforded him no precedent to comprehend. He regarded every thing as exaggerated and ridiculous which exceeded the barriers of ice, erected by the exclusives as a safe guard to their arctic circle.
"There were many things in her new mode of life, which an uncorrupted nature pointed out as inconsistent and objectionable. So little was Mrs. Hamilton habituated to the details of public service, that she could not help attaching a degree of meanness to the prodigality with which public money and public agents were rendered subservient to the rise and convenience of those who are themselves the servants of the public, in a higher capacity. Her father indeed, had eaten the bread of the country, and her mother was still its pensioner. But the fate of the gallant Sir Clement sanctified the grant.
"It was not so with the Hamiltons and Tottenhams, and twenty families of their party. Some were paid for doing nothing; many, for doing very little; yet, certain of her new friends who were in the habit of proceeding from a late breakfast to their varions offices, and quitting them at three o'clock, to take a turn in St. James's-street, or to lounge in the purlien's of the house, on the chance of a division, were everlastingly complaining of the severity of the duties, and grumbling for the arrival of the recess. The most over-tasked weaver of Spital-fields, could not sigh more repiningly over his loom, for change of air, and relaxation of labour ! William Tottenham and Augustus, commissioners of a lottery which had ceased to exist, and clerks to an office which had never existed, were liberally remunerated as deputies in a sinecure place, the local habitation of which was a mystery even to their principal, yet they threw away the proceeds with as much pride and ostentation, as if they had been honestly earned; and very often did Susan shudder, on hearing them in the wantonness of their prosperity, curse the people-the damned people,-the besotted blackguard people,'-by the sweat of whose brows, their own leisure was secured.
"Another circumstance which appeared unaccountable, wa
certain tenure of his father's fortunes, not to have resolved to effect, at almost any sacrifice, a more solid provision for himself. He would not, of course, do anything contrary to the code of polite honour-nothing ungentlemanly'-nothing calculated to get him black-balled at a club, or stigmatized in the coteries. But to perform the ko-tou of courtiership, in common with the highest and mightiest, was no offence either against himself or society to run the race of lying or equivocation with a Duke, could be no disgrace. To swear that the Virginia Water (like the Terouis of the ancients) was composed of one part water and three parts fishes, was no reproach-except to the individual who believed! To protest that Corregio's Notte,' or Raphael's 'Madonna della redia' were vapid in comparison with Rembrandt's Lady with the fan,' or Gerard Douw's 'Woman peeling turnips, might be an error in judgment;-to prefer Lawrence the finical to Vandyke the courtly, or Oginski's Polonaise to Beethoven's symphonies, could only be a fault of taste. Hamilton loses his master, and Susan her weakly babe about the same time. William the Fourth accedes to the throne, and his hearty manners conciliate the discontented. "It was a long time since a king had met them face to face. The rising generation were glad to ascertain that the crown was not worn by a hippogriff; and his majesty, bred in a profession too critical in its vicissitudes to deal in the etiquettes of life-and at present unlearned in the precept delivered to Louis XV. by his chancellor, that "Kings themselves are but ceremonies," was well satisfied to set their minds at rest. A female court, too, was, for the first time, for many years, established; and the world begun to talk of King George and Queen Charlotte; and to fancy, they had retrograded to those "good old times," which ended in the riots of Eighty and the American war.
At this time, Mrs. Cadogan presents her husband with an heir, that is, however, no son of his. While she is still in confinement, and ere Susan has yet quite recovered from the shock of losing her own poor boy, Mrs. Hamilton pays her a visit.
"A yet severer retribution was in store for her.-She knew of Mrs. Hamilton's loss, and was almost glad that it would secure her own sick room from her presence; when, one morning early, in her convalescence, as she lay on her sofa, near an open window, enjoying the delicious balminess of the summer atmosphere, the door of her dressing-room was gently opened, and Susan, quiet and unannounced stole in. Caroline would have given worlds to evade the visit. But there she was, chained to her couch, without even a bell at her disposal; and when Mrs. Hamilton put aside her mourning veil, and bent over her with a kind, womanly kiss, a sudden flush of fever seemed to pervade the frame of the delinquent.-A tear was on her face, that had fallen from Susan's; and it scorched her like a drop of liquid fire.
A Delicate Distress.-The late King George (the Second) was fond of peaches stewed in brandy in a
While taking a solitary morning drive in the neighbourhood particular manner, which he had tasted at my father's;
of Everleigh, Mrs. Hamilton had suddenly found courage to
and ever after, till his death my mamma furnished
the puerile nature of the conversation current among these eminent personages by whom she was surrounded. She had been startled, even at Weald-park, by the extreme levity of men, whose names were of bistorical importance, and whose opinions of historical weight. But at Weald, the Marquis of Shetland and his parasite, the pompous Earl of Tottenham, and Lord Tottenham's parasite, the Right Honourable George,-and the Right Honourable George's parasite, Mr. Secretary Varden, were supposed to be playing holiday; and had their privilege of private life to plead in extenuation of their bad puns, their dirty stories, their scandalous anecdotes, their wishy-washy chit-chat. A somewhat comprehensive adoption of the Floratian precept was pardonable.
"In London, on the contrary, within a stone's throw of the Treasury, within oration-pitch of Palace-yard,-within sight of Westminster-hall, of Westminster-Abbey, it struck her that they ought to maintain the odour of officiality: that their coun sel should be close as a despatch box,-correct as the draught of a chancery bill,-strong as a ministerial majority. They appeared at Lord Laxington's table, with all the blushing honours of the Privy Counsel thick upon them,-with the breath of majesty in their nostrils,-with the cracking of the door of the cabinet lingering in their ears; or with the cheers of their packed jury, the house, still louder and still more portentous. Yet the graver the crisis, the more trifling their discourse.
Her wearisome mode of life is something relieved by the return of her lively brother, Sir Edward Berkeley, from his travels, who frightens her into a fainting fit by the suddenness of his greeting, and wonders at the fine.ladyism of his reception; and has a dread of being treated like a quarto with plates.'
The return of Sir Edward brings his mother and elder sister to town, and while there, Lady Berkeley contives just to frighten her daughter into a slight fit of jealousy, by vague inuendoes Her husband perceives the state of the case, and busies himself to counteract the mother's half-sighted discernment. The Berkeleys were to leave town in a week;-and during that week he was constantly by Susan's side.
"See, my dear mother, how needless were your alarms,' she whispered, on taking leave of Lady B, while Augustus was taking a few parting commissions from Sir Edward;- Augustus has not been half an hour away from me for the last six days.' "Ah! my dear child! you know but little of the world! ejaculated Lady Berkeley, mournfully shaking her head as she embraced her. And long after her mother's departure that portentous gesture disturbed the peace of mind of Mrs. Hamilton.
"A political conference, of a secret nature, between the delegates of the Great Powers, was about to take place at Baden, and Lord Laxington was to represent the interests of England: consequently, the most courtly of court physicians recommended the waters of Baden for Susan's impaired health, and Lord Laxington kindly consented to accompany his amiable daughterin-law-and thus, unconsciously, the gentle Susan was made a scape-goat to the intrigues of a cabal of politicians. Meanwhile the Tories in office were in full flower. There could not be a stonger tribute to the stability of the party than Augustus Hamil ton's acceptance of a subordinate appointment. Augustus-the handome, successful, self-reliant Augustus, who had said of his marriage as Mazarin of a place he once bestowed, that 'it had rendered hundreds discontented, and one ungrateful.' Augustus, who fancied that his appearance in the bow-window at White's, was the spell of fascination that attracted every female eye towards that cabinet of curiosities-Augustus, who forebore to enter the pit of the opera during one of Pasta's favourite airs, lest he should distract the attention of the audience-Augustus, who felt conscious that he owed as much to himself as some men are fools enough to imagine they owe their country-Augustus had, at length, consented to do some service to the state, which had acted as cashier to his family throughout two gene
"It was impossible, however, for any man to entertain a higher sense of his own condescension! Instead of compassionating Susan's disappointment in quitting England (when she had expected to pass a quiet autumn at their home in the county), he did nothing but point out the sacrifice he was making in losing the shooting season at Weald. Instead of lamenting her fatigue in so long a journey, at such a time, he did nothing but enlarge on the vexation of travelling in Lord Laxington's company, and being obliged to give up his time at Paris to conrtiership and St. Cloud, intstead of the saloon and the opera. He quarrelled with the roads, the inns, the weather; and by the time they arrived at Baden, the force of ill-humour could no further go.'
"That his wife, to whom the place was new, should find anything to admire in its picturesque site and romantic scenery, was an unpardonable offence-there was not a son worth speaking to left at the baths.
"At breakfast, a day or two after their arrival, in the midst of complaints of the cold and desertion of the place, Augustus exclaims, By the way, who were those showy-looking English people who bowed to you yesterday as we were returning from our ride?'
"The Burtonshaws, relations of the Mangleses, who spent a week every year at Laxington-I know very little of them.' "Pray do not aspire to improve the acquaintance. I never saw more flagrant people! if there is a thing I abhor, it is a family of over-dressed, under-bred English, on the Continent; not knowing what they would be at, and staring their eyes out in wonder at every thing everybody else is at! blazing in front of all the theatres-attracting attention in all the public walks and acting" Milor Anglais," to the amusement of foreigners, and the disgust of their own countrymen!"
"The Burtonshaws appear to be very harmless people. I believe they made their fortune in India.
"Never mind where they made it; but, for God's sake, do not bring them down in judgment upon my father! he hates all that sort of thing even more than I do.'
"Des dames Anglaises qui se presentent pour Madame!' said Lord Laxington's valet, throwing open the door, in the belief that visitors who made their appearance at breakfast time, Must be on very familiar terms with the family.
"Et qui donc ? cried Augustus, with a presentiment of the impending calamity.
"Une dame et des demoiselles de Birtancha.
"And in walked the "flagrant" people whom the fastidious Hamilton had just denounced as inadmissible.
From the Burtonshaws Snsan learns that her sister is about to be married to Bernard Forbes, formerly a snitor of her own, and now becoming prominent in his profession, the law. Marcia had long been attached to his worth, and the acquisition of one sister amply consoles him for the loss of the other. From Baden the Hamiliens remove to Vienna, where they meet with the Cadogans. Cadogan is a catholic, a very gentlemanly' man, i. e. a cold, inexorable, servile formalist. Mrs. Cadogan was a school friend of Susan's, and is now an artful, intriguing woman; raling her husband, while he believes her his slave, by playing upon his foible of perverse wilfulness; and deceiving Susan while she appears her sincerest friend. Mrs. Hamilton is over. Joyed at the idea of seeing a compatriot, an old friend, a woman! Her joy is soon damped by mysterious hints in a letter of Marcia's, regretting her intimacy with Mrs. Cadogan. Angustus obtains a sight of the letter, and his fury throws poor Susan into an alarm, that causes the premature birth of a sickly child. During her illness she gratefully accepts the services of Mrs. Cadogan, for she does not yet understand all that is meant, not even by her her husband's phrensy. As soon as the invalid is sufficiently recovered they return to England, and are taken into the royal household. Hamilton sets himself tooth and nail to curry favour with his royal master. "Bold as were Augustus Hamilton's professsions of independence in private society, he was too well aware of the un
"I have been very unhappy since we parted,' said she, in the simplicity of grief, 'very unhappy; but, for the sake of Augustus, must learn to overcome my affliction.'
"You have so many remaining sources of happiness, ob served Mrs. Cadogan, in a low voice; but she could not finish her sentence.
"You must show me your little boy,' resumed Mrs. Hamil ton, after a long and painful pause.
"We have all sources of happiness, if we knew how to reu. der them available,' said Susan, sighing. But some are fated to deeper afflictions than others; some to brighter fortunes.— Yourself, dear Caroline! How your career has prospered!——
With every thing against yon in the onset of life, how completely
have all your desires been realized !~With health-with fortnae
friends; how happy you are! Do not think me despicable, if Luxborough's Letters to Shenstone.
I own I think you an object of envy!'
"No-no cried Caroline, with uncontroulable emotion. 'The sight of a child would be too painful to you.'
"You know not,' said Susan, with a quivering lip, how well I can subdue my feelings. I must see children-I must accustom myself to see them without emotion;-with whose can I better commence my hard lesson, than with yours?--Yon, who are so kind a friend, will show so much indulgence to my weak
"Nay, dear Caroline!-Believe me to be the best judge of my own feelings! Do you know, I fancy it would even soothe me to hold a child again in my arms!'
"Not yet!-you must excuse me!' faltered Mrs. Cadogan, her heart beating more quickly with emotion than she bad fancied it would ever beat again. But her will was not to be consulted. The head-nurse, proud of the heir of Everleigh, or desirous to exhibit to a visitor the magnificent lace of its cockade, thought proper to parade her charge, uncalled for, into the room; without dreaming that the deep mourning of the ladyguest had any reference to a loss rendering its presence disagreeable.
See, ma'am' cried the old lady, approaching Mrs. Hamil-
"But another resemblance was sickening in the very heart of
"My dear Mrs. Hamilton, you do us too much honour' ex-
"No!' said Mrs. Cadogan, faintly. "I wish-I rather intend
"In a word, my dear, have you formed any engagements on the subject, and with whom.
blow to Angustus Hamilton. While he is absent, during one of the riots that took place abont that period, his wife, anxious to discover his engagements, that she may form some conjecture regarding his safety, looks over certain of his letters; among them is one from Caroline Cadogan! Out of power, and unable to satisfy the demands of his dependents, a vindictive servant soon after publishes the connection to the world. Au.; gustus is mortally wounded in a duel with the formalist Cadogan while his unsuspecting wife is kept in ignorance of his danger till after his death, to preserve her from the horrors of his death-bed violences. After the death of her husband, she devotes herself to the care of her father in-law, the fallen, disappointed, penitent Lord Laxington; and when again his death leaves her without a protector, she gives her hand to the Marquis Clancastare, Lord Laxington's ward, an accomplished, and intelligent young nobleman, who, like Apollo, though pos sessed of every attraction, had not hitherto proved very attractive to the ladies, having been successively refused by Julia Hamilton and Marcia Berkeley. He is too good for the former, not exalted enough for the latter; but just suited to the gentle Susan, whom we are glad to leave at last in congenial com. pany.
My dear Caroline, pray allow me to arrange these matters
"Good! I will write a line to my friend Hamilton. It will
"Good bye, Caroline,' said Susan, in a tremulous voice, as
At length the Tories go out of office. This is a destructive
Parish dinners in 1460 and 1794.-In the registry
"A supper for the parish officers to settle their accounts, and to regulate the assessment of their poor rate, the sum of 50l. 17s. 2d."
The Birmingham Coach in 1749.-A Birmingham coach is newly established to our great emolument. Would it not be a good scheme, (this dirty weather, when riding is no more a pleasure) for you to come some Monday in the said stage coach from Birmingham, to breakfast at Barrells, for they always breakfast at Henley; and on the Saturday following it would convey you back to Birmingham, unless you would stay longer, which would be better still, and equally safe? It for the stage goes every week the same road. breakfasts at Henley, and lies at Chipping Horton ; goes early next day to Oxford, stays there all day and night, and gets on the third day to London; which from Birmingham at this season is pretty well, considering how long they are at Oxford; and it is much more agreeable as to the country than the Warwick way Lady Luxborough's Letters to Shenstone.
A Fox at Deptford. A Deptford Correspondent of the Magazine of Natural History, after describing a garden belonging to him which had run wild, and was surrounded three parts by water, proceeds to give the following account of a fox which had established in it "an at home, within four miles of London." "The fox" says he,
made himself very happy for more than six weeks. The
very angry manner. Poor fellow! a neighbour happened to see him cross the ditch by moon-light into my garden with an old hen in his mouth. The out-cry was raised, a search was demanded. Next day there came guns, dogs, pitchforks, and neighbours; the upshot of all which was that poor Reynard's brush is dangling in my little wainscotted room, between an Annibal Caracci, and a Batista.-E. N. D. Mag. Nat. Hist.-A family of foxes has been known to establish itself in Kensington Gardens, and to have astonished the neighbourhood one fine morning with a hunt in Hyde Park.
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*The great popularity of this little work having caused a mis-understanding between the two brothers-Cruikshank-they have endeavoured to throw the onus upon the publisher, who, having no other means of setting the public right, has re-printed the correspondence which has appeared in the "Spectator" newspaper, leaving the public to decide which of the two is the "real Simon Pure."-The following appeared on the 19th of April:TO THE EDITOR OF THE "SPECTATOR." London, April 17th, 1834.
your paper of last Sunday, in reviewing a work of my brother's, you go on to notice his imitators, and state that I am trading upon his fame. Now this censure ought to fall upon the publishers by whom I have been employed, and not upon me; for, so far from wishing to trade upon my brother's fame, it has ever been my earnest request to the publishers that my Christian name, " ROBERT," should be advertised with the works I illustrate, and which they promised to do; but I regret to observe they have very frequently failed in the performance of that promise.
As respects the work styled Cruikshank at Home, I feel called upon to state, that I was entirely ignorant of the title till the book was put into my hands, after its publication; and that, from the very unusually small price offered to me by the publisher for drawings, merely in outline (as he termed it,) I naturally presumed they were intended for some slight cheap publication, that would have borne some fair proportion to the small remuneration I received for my services.
Allow me, Mr. Editor, to assure you and the public generally, that in my engagement with the publisher of Cruikshank at Home, I made one condition, which was understood by both parties to be paramount to all others; which was, that in every place where my name was printed it shoud be "ROBERT CRUIKSHANK." and any thing short of that I neither could nor would be satisfied with; and which dissatisfaction I lost no time in plainly communicating to the publisher.
I am, Sir, your obedient humble servant, ROBERT CRUIKSHANK. In answer to which, Mr. Kidd immediately returned the following letter, addressed to the Editor of the "Spectator:"44 TO THE EDITOR OF THE SPECTATOR."
SIR, Having given insertion to a letter from Mr. ROBERT CRUIK SHANK, on the subject of a little work which I am now publishing, (illustrated by him) you will, doubtless, permit me, through the same channel, to reply to the statement he has put forth, which, should it remain uncontradicted, might prove of serious injury to me in in my capacity, of PUBLISHER. It was originally agreed upon between us that the work, which was to be entitled "Cruikshank at Home," should be published in one volume, and contain twenty-three engravings, inclusive of a drawing representing Mr. Cruikshank in his own study. On this number being completed and delivered over, Mr. Cruikshank represented to me, that as he was about to publish a copper-plate engraving of the ship called the "Great Harry," to be dedicated by permission to her Royal Highness the Duchess of Kent, he was particularly anxious, in the meantime, to add to his fame by the publication of his "AT HOME," and requested, as a great favour, that as the drawings were made in his very best manner, and not merely in outline) they might be beautifully engraved. This request was acceded to, and to render him a still further service, the original number of designs was increased to upwards of one hundred, and the book brought out in the most handsome form possible, and in three volumes instead of one-of course, at my own expense, which he seems to forget. stipulation, "that the Christian name Robert should be affixed to the work,"--this is positively untrue, though on reference to the very first volume, it will be found I have chosen to affix it. The sum named for the drawings was not only not objected to, but most readily accepted by Mr. Cruikshank, whose reply was that he must now leave off working for the Penny Casket, and devote himself to this job." Two witnesses were present on this occasion. At all events, having furnished more than four times
As for the
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1 Frontispiece, Moses with the Tables of the Law
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Coypel. Raphael. Poussin. Poussin.
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WEDNESDAY, MAY 7, 1834.
A HUMAN BEING, AND A CROWD. We had intended to make merry this week, in our leading article, with some light subject, but a late event in the metropolis (of which we are not going to speak politically) and the perusal of the affecting Romance of Real Life which is given in our present number, have set us upon graver thoughts, to which it may not be unsalutary to give way.
The reader will allow us to relate him an apologue.A seer of visions, walking out one evening, just before twilight, saw a being standing in a corner by the wayside, such as he never remembered to have seen before. It said nothing, and threatened him no harm it seemed occupied with its own thoughts, looking in an earnest manner across the fields, where some children were playing; and its aspect was inexpressibly affecting. Its eyes were very wonderful, a mixture of something that was at once substance and no substance, body and spirit; and it seemed as if there would have been tears in them, but for a certain dry-looking heat, in which nevertheless was a still stranger mixture of indifference and patience, of hope and despair. Its hands, which it now and then lifted to its head, appeared to be two of the most wonderful instruments that were ever beheld. Its cheeks varied their size in a remarkable manner, being now sunken, now swollen, or apparently healthy, but always of a marvellous formation, and capable, it would seem, of great beauty, had the phenomenon been nappy. The lips, in particular, expressed this capability; and now and then the creature smiled at some thought that came over it; and then it looked sorrowful, and then angry, and then patient again, and finally, it leaned against the tree near which it stood, with a gesture of great weariness, and heaved a sigh which went to the very heart of the beholder. The latter stood apart, screened from its sight, and looked towards it with a deep feeling of pity, reverence, and awe. At length, the creature moved from its place, looked first at the fields, then at the setting sun, and after putting its hands together in an attitude of prayer, and again looking at the fields and the children, drew down, as if from an unseen resting-place, a huge burthen of some kind or other, which it received on its head and shoulders; and with a tranquil and noble gesture, more affecting than any symptom it had yet exhibited, went gliding onwards toward the sunset, at once bent with weakness, and magnificent for very power. The seer then, before it got out of sight, saw it turn round, yearning towards the children; but what was his surprise, when on turning its eyes upon himself, he recognized, for the first time, an exact counterpart of his own face; in fact, himself looking at himself!
Yes, dear reader, the seer was the phenomenon, and the phenomenon is a human being, any care-worn man, you yourself, perhaps, if you are such, or your London Journalist;-with this difference, however, as far as regards you and us; that inasmuch as we are readers and writers of things hopeful, we are more hopeful people, and possess the two-fold faith which the phenomenon seems to have thought a divided one, and not to be united; that is to say, we think hopefully of heaven and hopefully of earth; we behold the sunset shining towards the fields and the little children, in all the beauty of its double encouragement.
A human being, whatever his mistakes, whatever his cares, is, in the truest and most literal sense of the word, a respectable being (pray believe it);-nay, an awful, were he not also a loving being;—a mystery of wonderful frame, hope, and capacity, walking between heaven and earth. To look into his eyes is to see a soul. He [SPARROW AND CO. CRANE COURT.]
is surely worth twice, thrice, and four times looking at
We feel a tenderness for every man when we consider that he has been an infant, and a respect for him when we see that he has had cares. And, if such be the natural feelings of reflection towards individual faces, how much more so towards a multitude of them, -towards an assemblage-a serious and anxious crowd? We believe, that without any reference to politics whatsoever, no man of reflection or sensibility looked upon the great moving mass and succession of human beings which assembled the other day in London, without being consciously or unconsciously moved with emotions of this kind. How could they help it? A crowd is but the reduplication of ourselves,-of our own faces, fears, hopes, wants, and relations,-our own connexions of wives and children,-our own strengths, weaknesses, formidable power, pitiable tears. We may differ with it, we may be angry with it, fear it, think we scorn it; but we must scorn ourselves first, or have no feeling and imagination. All the hearts beating in those bosoms are palpitations of our own. We feel them somehow or other, and glow, or turn pale. We cannot behold ourselves in that shape of power or mighty want, and not feel that we are men.
We have only to fancy ourselves born in any partilar class, and to have lived, loved, and suffered in it, in order to feel for the mistakes and circumstances of those who belong to it, even when they appear to sympathize least with ourselves: for that also is a part of what is to be pitied in them. The less they feel for us, the less is the taste of their own pleasures, and the less their security against a fall. Who that has any fancy of this kind, can help feeling for all those aristocrats, especially the young and innocent among them, that were brought to the scaffold during the French revolution? Who, for all those democrats, not excepting the fiercest, that were brought there also-some of whom surprised the bye-standers with the tenderness of their domestic recollections, and the faltering ejaculations they made towards the wives and children they left behind them? Who does not feel for the mistaken popish conspirators, the appalling story of whose execution is told in our this day's Romance of Real Life, with that godlike woman in it, who is never to be passed over when it is mentioned? Who does not feel for the massacres of St. Bartholomew, of Ireland, of Sicily, of any place; and the more because they are perpetrated by men upon their fellow-creatures, the victims and victim-makers of pitiable mistake? The world are finding out that mistake; and not again in a hurry, we trust, will any thing like it be repeated among civilized people. All are learning to make allowance for one another : but we must not forget, among our lessons, that the greatest allowances are to be made for those who suffer the most. Also, the greatest number of reflections
should be made for them.
Blessings on the progress of reflection and knowledge, * Respectable,respectabilis (Latin) worth again looking at.
PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.
which made that great meeting the other day as quiet as it was. We have received many letters from friends and correspondents on the setting up of our Journal, for which we have reason to be grateful; but not one which, has pleased us so much (nor, we are sure, with greater leave from themselves, to be so pleased) than a communication from our old Tatler' friend, S. W. H., in which he tells us, that he saw a copy of it in the hands of "one of the sturdiest" of the trades' unions, who was “ reading it as he marched along;" and who (adds our correspondent) "could hardly be thinking of burning down half London, even if the Government did continue bent upon not receiving his petition."
May we ever be found in such hands on such occasions. It will do harm to nobody in the long run; will prevent no final good; and assuredly encourage no injustice, final or intermediate. "To sympathize with all" is the climax of our motto. None, therefore, can be omitted in our sympathy; and assuredly not those who compose the greatest part of all. If we did not feel for them as we do, we should not feel for their likenesses in more prosperous shapes.
We had thought of saying something upon crowds under other circumstances, such as crowds at theatres and in churches, crowds at executions, crowds on holidays, &c.; but the interest of the immediate ground of our reflections has absorbed us. We will close this article however, with one of the most appalling descriptions of a crowd under circumstances of exasperation, that our memory refers us to. On sending for the book that contains it to the circulating library, (for though too like the truth, it is a work of fiction) we find that it is not quite so well-written, or simple in its intensity, as our recollection had fancied it. Nothing had remained in our memory but the roar of a multitude, the violence of a moment, and a shapeless remnant of a body. But the passage is still very striking. Next to the gratification of finding ourselves read by the many, is the discovery that our paper finds its way into certain accomplished and truly gentlemanly hands, very fit to grapple, in the best and most kindly manner, with those many; and to these an extract at this time of day, from Monk Lewis's novel, will have a private as well as public interest.
The author is speaking of an abbess, who has been guilty of the destruction of a nun under circumstances of great cruelty. An infuriated multitude destroy her, under circumstances of great cruelty on their own parts; and a lesson, we conceive, is here read, both to those who exasperate crowds of people, and to the crowds that, almost before they are aware of it, reduce a fellowcreature to a mass of unsightliness. For, though ven geance was here intended, and perhaps death (which is what we had not exactly supposed, from our recollection of the passage) yet it is not certain that the writer wished us to understand as much, however violent the mob may have become by dint of finding they had gone so far; and what we wish to intimate is, that a human being may be seized by his angry fellow-creatures, and by dint of being pulled hither and thither, and struck at, even with no direct mortal intentions on their parts, be reduced, in the course of a few frightful moments, to a state which, in the present reflecting state of the community, would equally fill with remorse the parties that regarded it, on either side,—the one from not taking care to avoid offence, and the other from not considering how far their resentment of it might lead ;—a mistake, from which, thank heaven, the good sense and precautions of both parties saved them, on the occasion we allude to.
St. Ursula s narrative," says Mr. Lewis, speaking of a