mighty professions of the purse-proud citizen | the world by the Almighty, a universal amdwindled by degrees into an absolute forgetful-nesty is proclaimed; when the cheerful fire ness of any promise, even conditional, to exert and the teeming board announce that Christan interest for their son. Seeing this, Mr. mas is come, and mirth and gratulation are Harding felt that he should act prudentially, the order of the day. It unfortunately hapby endeavouring to place his son where, in the pened, however, that to the account of Miss course of time, he might perhaps attain to that Wilkinson's marriage with George Harding I situation from whose honourable revenue he am not permitted, in truth, to add that they could live like a gentleman, and "settle com- left town in a travelling carriage and four to fortably." spend the honeymoon. Three or four days permitted absence from his office alone were devoted to the celebration of the nuptials; and it was agreed that the whole party, together with the younger branches of the Wilkinsons, their cousins and second cousins, &c., should meet on Twelfth-night to celebrate, in a juvenile party, the return of the bride and bridegroom to their home. When that night came it was delightful to see the happy faces of the smiling youngsters: it was a pleasure to behold them pleased-a participation in which, since the highest amongst us, and the most accomplished prince in Europe, annually evinces the gratification he feels in such sights, I am by no means disposed to disclaim; and merry was the jest, and gaily did the evening pass; and Mr. Harding, surrounded by his youthful guests, smiled, and for a season forgot his care; yet, as he glanced round the room, he could not suppress a sigh when he recollected that, in that very room, his darling Maria had entertained her little parties on the anniversary of the same day in former years. Supper was announced early, and the gay throng bounded down stairs to the parlour, where an abundance of the luxuries of middling life crowded the board. In the centre appeared the great object of the feast-a huge twelfthcake; and gilded kings and queens stood lingering over circles of scarlet sweetmeats, and hearts of sugar lay enshrined with warlike trophies of the same material. Many and deep were the wounds the mighty cake received, and every guest watched with a deep anxiety the coming portion relatively to the glittering splendour with which its frosted surface was adorned. Character-cards, illustrated with pithy mottoes and quaint sayings, were distributed; and, by one of those little frauds which such societies tolerate, Mr. Harding was announced as king, and the new bride as queen; and there was such charming joking, and such harmless merriment abounding, that he looked to his wife with an expression of content, which she had often, but vainly, sought to find upon his countenance since the death of his dear Maria. All the arrangements which the kind father had proposed being made, the mourning couple proceeded on a lengthened tour of the Continent; and it was evident that his spirits mended rapidly when he felt conscious that his liability to encounter Martha was decreased. The sorrow of mourning was soothed and softened in the common course of nature; and the quiet, domesticated couple sat themselves down at Lausanne, "the world forgetting, by the world forgot," except by their excellent and exemplary son, whose good qualities, it seemed, had captivated a remarkably pretty girl, a neighbour of his, whose mother appeared to be equally charmed with the goodness of his income. There appeared, strange to say, in this affair, no difficulties to be surmounted, no obstacles to be overcome; and the consent of the Hardings, requested in a letter, which also begged them to be present at the ceremony if they were willing it should take place, was presently obtained by George; and, at the close of the second year which had passed since their departure, the parents and son were again united in that house, the very sight of which recalled to their recollection their poor unhappy daughter and her melancholy fate, and which was still associated most painfully in the mind of Mr. Harding with the hated gipsy. The charm, however, had no doubt been broken. In the two past years Martha was doubtless either dead or gone from the neighbourhood. They were a wandering tribe: and thus Mrs. Harding checked the rising apprehensions and renewed uneasiness of her husband; and so well did she succeed, that, when the wedding-day came, and the bells rang, and the favours fluttered in the air, his countenance was lighted with smiles, and he kissed the glowing cheek of his new daughter-in-law with warmth and something like happiness. The wedding took place at that season of the year when friends and families meet jovially and harmoniously, when all little bickerings are forgotten, and when, by a general feeling, founded upon religion, and perpetuated by the memory of the blessing granted to Supper concluded, the clock struck twelve, and the elders looked as if it were time for the young ones to depart. One half-hour's grace was begged for by the "king," and granted; and Mrs. George Harding, on this night, was to sing them a song about "poor old maidens" -an ancient quaintness, which, by custom and usage, ever since she was a little child, she had annually performed upon this anniversary; and, accordingly, the promise being claimed, silence was obtained, and she, with all that show of tucker-heaving diffidence which is so becoming in a very pretty downy-cheeked girl, prepared to commence, when a noise, resembling that producible by the falling of an eight-and-forty pound shot, echoed through the house. It appeared to descend from the very top of the building, down each flight of stairs, rapidly and violently. It passed the door of the room in which they were sitting, and rolled its impetuous course downwards to the basement. As it seemed to leave the parlour the door was forced open, as if by a gust of wind, and stood ajar. All the children were in a moment on their feet huddled close to their respective mothers in groups. Mrs. Harding rose and rang the bell to inquire the meaning of the uproar. Her daughter-in-law, pale as ashes, looked at George; but there was one of the party who moved not, who stirred not: it was the elder Harding, whose eyes first fixed steadfastly on the halfopened door, followed the course of the wall of the apartment to the fireplace-there they rested. When the servants came they said they had heard the noise, but thought it proceeded from above. Harding looked at his wife; and then, turning to the servant, observed carelessly that it must have been some noise in the street; and, desiring him to withdraw, entreated the bride to pursue her song. She did; but the children had been too much alarmed to enjoy it, and the noise had in its character something so strange and so unearthly, that even the elders of the party, although bound not to admit anything like apprehension before their offspring, felt glad when they found themselves at home. When the guests were gone, and George's wife lighted her candle to retire to rest, her father-in-law kissed her affectionately, and prayed God to bless her. He then took a kind leave of his son, and putting up a fervent prayer for his happiness, pressed him to his heart, and bade him adieu with an earnestness, which, under the commonplace circumstance of a temporary separation, was inexplicable to the young man. When he reached his bedroom he spoke to his wife, and entreated her 66 66 to prepare her mind for some great calamity. "What it is to be," said Harding, "where the blow is to fall, I know not; but it is impending over us this night!" "My life!" exclaimed Mrs. Harding, "what fancy is this?" Eliza, love!" answered her husband, in a tone of unspeakable agony, "I have seen her for the third and last time!" "Who?" MARTHA THE GIPSY." Impossible!" said Mrs. Harding, "you have not left the house to-day!" "True, my beloved," replied the husband; "but I have seen her. When that tremendous noise was heard at supper, as the door was supernaturally opened, I saw her. She fixed those dreadful eyes of hers upon me; she proceeded to the fireplace, and stood in the midst of the children, and there she remained till the servant came in." "My dearest husband," said Mrs. Harding, "this is but a disorder of the imagination.' Be what it may," said he, "I have seen her, human or superhuman-natural or supernatural-there she was. I shall not strive to argue upon a point where I am likely to meet with little credit; all I ask is, pray fervently, have faith, and we will hope the evil, whatever it is, may be averted." He kissed his wife's cheek tenderly, and, after a fitful feverish hour or two, fell into a slumber. From that slumber never woke he more. He was found dead in his bed in the morning. "Whether the force of imagination, coupled with the unexpected noise, produced such an alarm as to rob him of life, I know not," said my communicant, "but he was dead." This story was told me by my friend Ellis in walking from the city to Harley Street late in the evening; and when we came to this part of the history we were in Bedford Square, at the dark and dreary corner of it, where Caroline Street joins it. "And there," said Ellis, pointing downwards, "is the street where it all occurred." "Come, come," said I, "you tell the story well, but I suppose you do not expect it to be received as gospel." "Faith," said he, "I know so much of it, that I was one of the party, and heard the noise." 'But you did not see the spectre?" cried I. "No," said Ellis, "I certainly did not." "No," answered I, "nor anybody else, I'll be sworn. A quick footstep was just then heard behind us; I turned half round to let the person pass, and saw a woman enveloped in a red cloak, whose sparkling black eyes, shone upon by the dim lustre of a lamp above her head, dazzled me. I was startled. 66 Pray, remember old MARTHA THE GIPSY," said the hag. 287 SEARCHING AFTER GOD. Said "We obey The God thou seek'st." I askt, what eye or eare Could see or heare; What in the world I might descry or know -With an unanimous voice, all these things said, " 'We are not God, but we by him were made." It was like a thunder-stroke-I instantly | I askt the heavens, sun, noon, and stars, but they slipped my hand into my pocket, and hastily gave her therefrom a five-shilling piece. Thanks, my bonny one," said the woman; and setting up a shout of contemptuous laughter, she bounded down Caroline Street, into Russel Street, singing, or rather yelling, a joyous song. Ellis did not speak during this scene; he pressed my arm tightly, and we quickened our pace. We said nothing to each other till we turned into Bedford Street, and the lights and passengers of Tottenham Court Road reassured us. "What do you think of that?" said Ellis to me. "SEEING IS BELIEVING," was my reply. I have never passed that dark corner of Bedford Square in the evening since. Offended with my question, in full quire, I askt the world's great universal masse, Which with a mighty and strong voice reply'd, "I am not He, O man! for know, that I By him on high Was fashion'd first of nothing, thus instated, A scrutiny within myself I, than, "O man, what art thou?"-What more could I say, Fraile, mortal, fading, a meere puffe, a blast, O make us at to seeke, and quicke to finde, Give us love, hope, and faith in thee to trust, Remit all our offences, we entreat; Most Good, most Great! Grant that our willing, though unworthy quest Answer'd-"To finde thy God thou must look higher." May, through thy grace, admit us 'mongst the blest MASANIELLO, THE FISHERMAN OF NAPLES. Tomaso Anello, or, as he is more generally called, Masaniello, was the son of a fisherman of Amalfi, where he was born about the year 1623. He followed the occupation of his father, was clad in the meanest attire, went about barefoot, and gained a scanty livelihood by angling for fish, and hawking them about for sale. Who could have imagined that in this poor abject fisher-boy the populace were to find the being destined to lead them on to one of the most extraordinary revolutions recorded in history? Yet so it was. No monarch ever had the glory of rising so suddenly to so lofty a pitch of power as the barefooted Masaniello. Naples, the metropolis of many fertile provinces, the queen of many noble cities, the resort of princes, of cavaliers, and of heroes. Naples, inhabited by more than 600,000 souls, abounding in all kinds of resources, glorying in its strength. This proud city saw itself forced, in one short day, to yield to one of its meanest sons such obedience as in all its history it had never before shown to the mightiest of its liege sovereigns. In a few hours the fisher lad was at the head of 150,000 men; in a few hours there was no will in Naples but his; and in a few hours it was freed from all sorts of taxes, and restored to all its ancient privileges. The fishing wand was exchanged for the truncheon of command, the sea-boy's jacket for cloth of silver and gold. He made the town be entrenched; he placed sentinels to guard it against danger from without; and he established a system of police within, which awed the worst banditti in the world into fear. Armies passed in review before him; even flects owned his sway. During the viceroyship of the Duke of Arcos the Neapolitans were much oppressed by heavy taxes on the necessities of life. At length, in 1647, the viceroy mortgaged to certain merchants the duty on fruit, at once 1 From the Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. This once popular periodical was one of the early pioneers of cheap literature, and it ran a very successful career from November, 1822, till 1849. It was first edited by Mr. Thomas Byerly, the Reuben of the Percy Anecdotes (the Percy Anecdotes, by Sholto and Reuben Percy, 20 vols.) At his death it was placed in the hands of a Mr. Ray for six months; then it was entrusted to Mr John Timbs, who carried it on until 1840. Upon his retirement the editorship passed successively into the hands of Mr. D. M. Aird, Mr. Gaspey, and Mr. J. B. St. John. the luxury and staple of life to the temperate Neapolitans. Masaniello saw with grief his countrymen obliged to sell their beds, and even abandon their offspring, in order to pay the odious impost. At length his sense of the public misery was worked up to the utmost by an outrage on his own family. His wife was carrying a small quantity of contraband flour home for her children when she was seized and dragged to prison; nor was it until he was obliged to sell his furniture, and pay 100 ducats, that he could obtain her release. He now resolved to rescue his country from slavery; he harangued the fruit-dealers in the market-place, urging them not to buy a single basket of the growers until the duty was taken off. He then assembled a number of boys, who went wailing through the streets, and calling out for redress. When remonstrated with by some of his neighbours, and jested with by others, he replied, "You may laugh at me now; but you shall soon see what the fool Masaniello can do: let me alone, and give me my way, and if I do not set you free from all your taxes, and from the slavery that now grinds you to death, may I be cursed and called a villain for ever!" In the meantime Masaniello's army of boys amounted to 5000, all active and docile youths, from the age of sixteen to that of nineteen. He armed each with a slender cane, and bade them meet him in the market-place next morning, Sunday, July 7, 1647-a day when a sort of mock fight and storming of a wooden tower used to take place between the Neapolitan youths in the respective characters of Turks and Christians. It was during the confusion occasioned by this custom that Masaniello ran in among the children and the mob and cried out, "No taxes! no taxes!" In vain did the magistrates attempt to quell the mob. Masaniello armed his troops with the plunder of the tower, and harangue them. 'Rejoice," said he, "my dear companions and countrymen, give God thanks, and the most gracious Virgin of Carmine, that the hour of our redemption, and the time of our deliverance, draweth nigh. This poor fisherman, barefooted as he is, shall, like another Moses, who delivered the Israelites from the cruel rod of Pharaoh, the Egyptian king, free you from all gabels and impositions that were ever laid on you. It was a fisherman-I mean St. Peter-who redeemed the city of Rome from the slavery of the devil to the liberty of Christ; and the whole world followed that deliverance, and obtained their freedom from the same bondage. Now another fisherman, one Masaniello-I am the man-shall release the city of Naples, and with it a whole kingdom, from the cruel yoke of tolls and gabels. Shake off, therefore, from this moment the yoke. Be free, if you have but courage, from those intolerable oppressions under which you have hitherto groaned. To bring this glorious, end about, I do not care for myself, if I am torn to pieces, and dragged about the city of Naples, through all the kennels and gutters that belong to it; let all the blood in this body flow cheerfully out of these veins; let this head fly from these shoulders at the touch of the fatal steel, and be perched up over this marketplace, on a pole to be gazed at, yet shall I die contented and glorious; it will be triumph and honour sufficient for me to think that my blood and life were sacrificed in so worthy a cause, and that I became the saviour of my country." Masaniello ceased to speak, and the shouts of the multitude attested the spirit that his words had excited. The firing of the toll house, with all the account-books that were kept there, and many commodities that belonged to the farmers of the customs, was a signal for a general conflagration of all that was rare, precious, and curious throughout Naples. The houses of the nobility were ransacked; their fine furniture and valuable pictures, their libraries, wardrobes, jewels, and plate, were all brought forth into the streets, and thrown into immense fires, which were fed every moment by additions of the most costly fuel that luxury could supply. The house of a man who had originally carried bread up and down the streets of Naples, but becoming a favourite of the viceroy's had been enabled to acquire immense wealth by dealing in the funds, was sought out by the mob with peculiar eagerness. They assembled round his gates with lighted torches in their hands, forced an entrance, and, stripping the rooms as they went along, threw the furniture, books, papers, and everything that they could lay their hands on, out of the windows. Twenty-three large trunks were thus hurled into the streets, and being forced open by the violence of the fall, displayed the richest, tissues and embroideries in gold and silver to the eyes of the beholders, who notwithstanding immediately consigned them to the flames, along with a cabinet full of oriental pearls; exclaiming, as they had done before, that they were wrung from the heart's blood of the people, and should perish in flames, as the extortioners themselves ought to do. an interview; Masaniello, in the meantime, organized his forces, which assumed all the appearance of a well-disciplined army, amounting to 114,000 men. While a negotiation was going on with the viceroy, an attempt was made to assassinate Masaniello by some of the viceroy's troops, who discharged a shower of musket-bullets at him, one of which singed the breast of his shirt. Becoming distrustful by this act of treachery, Masaniello issued several sumptuary laws, making every person leave off wearing cloaks or long garments, under which daggers could be concealed. He demanded a treaty from the viceroy, to secure their liberties, which was granted. The treaty was accordingly solemnly read in the cathedral church, amidst countless multitudes of people, and Masaniello afterwards went to pay his respects to the viceroy at his excellency's particular request. He would have gone in his mariner's dress, as usual, but at the persuasion of the archbishop he consented to lay it aside, and appeared on horseback, attired in a white habit, splendidly embroidered, a magnificent plume of feathers waved from his hat, and in his hand he carried a drawn sword; thus accoutred he rode in front of the archbishop's carriage. His brother, also richly habited, rode on his right hand; one of his colleagues, Arpaja, tribune of the commons, on the left; and the other, Julio Genevino, last; followed by a hundred and sixty companies of horse and foot, consisting in all of about fifty thousand men. All eyes were fixed on Masaniello as he passed, all hearts sprang towards him, all voices joined in pronouncing him "the saviour of his country." The way before him was strewed by grateful hands with palm and olive branches, the balconies were hung with the richest silks to do him honour as he passed, and the ladies threw from them the choicest flowers and garlands, accompanying their homage with the most respectful and admiring obeisances. The air was filled with the sweetest music, and Naples, which for three days before was a scene of the most appalling anarchy and tumult, now presented nothing but images of peace and joy. A day was fixed for ratifying the treaty in public; but that day saw a wonderful change in Masaniello; his incessant fatigue and anxiety, his want of rest, and neglect of food, were too much for a frame merely mortal, and his vigorous mind became affected. The viceroy took advantage of this circumstance, proclaimed his authority at an end, and promised a reward The viceroy became alarma, and solicited of ten thousand ducats to any one who should VOL. I. 19 |