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genius of war borne upon lightnings, and proclaimed, like
a second Jove, "Soldiers! we finish this campaign by a
thunderbolt that shall confound the pride of our ene-
mies!" When, in reply, the hat and the tricolor waved
on the gleaming bayonet, and " Long live the Emperor!"
echoed like a tempest from 80,000 voices! When, at Jena,
it was but necessary to say, 66
Are not we the soldiers
of Austerlitz ?" and Prussia became a cipher among the
nations! When, with 900 men, he left the isle of his
exile to overturn a government that bore rule over
30,000,000 of souls-yea, backed by the united interest
of Europe to boot-only exclaiming, "Paris or death!"
-when his foot touched the soil of France, and he
called out," The Congress is dissolved!"-when meet-
ing the force sent to oppose him, he advanced dauntless
to the point of their weapons, and exclaimed, throw
ing open his coat, and presenting his breast, "Sol-
diers! you have been told that I fear death; if there be
among you one soldier who would kill his Emperor, let
bim plunge his bayonet into this bosom !"-if there be
not poetry in this,-in its effect, when 6000 hostile men
instantaneously cast their arms upon the ground, and fell
upon each other's neck, exclaiming, "Long live the Em-
peror!"—if the very soul of poetry be not in this, and in
these things-what, in the name of prose and stupidity,
what is Poetry?

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served, "Up, Guards, and at them!" Then three of those cheers which are inspiration to the giver, but despair to the opposing hearer, announced the rushing of a flood of British bayonets! The existence of poetic feeling in deeds and in things visible, was made manifest, and the fate of Europe decided. These things were not merely the soul of poetry, but the body also.

SINGLE BLESSEDNESS.

By a Lady.

;

"be

I HAVE met with very few unmarried ladies who have not appeared to me to feel, after the age of thirty, that their existence was thoroughly comfortless and wretched. Many have I heard express it openly; and that such is the fact, can very easily be discovered by an accurate observer of the human countenance. It is also certain, that three out of five of the young English ladies of the present day must remain unmarried; because no man can exist on less than two thousand a-year when married and how few young men there are with two thousand ayear, compared with the number of young ladies! Five, six, eight, sometimes, in one family; generally all tolerably pretty, and most of them pleasing and accomplished If there be one born in Britain who can hear the name women-many possessing talents of no ordinary stampof Nelson pronounced without feelings of poetical enthu- yet, perhaps, in our salons these lovely and accomplished siasm, he is a bastard, and a bloat upon his country-beings are completely neglected by the other sex, coward, traitor, is written on his milky heart. No man can think of the hero of Teneriffe, of the Nile, of Copenhagen, and Trafalgar, without glorying in the idea that he is his countryman! The name of Nelson was the talisman of victory; his very presence was inspiration, and the record of his last triumph is a poem more sublime and imperishable than the Iliad itself. There was a volume of poetry in his last signal-“ England expects that every man will do his duty!" This was the last signal of Nelson, the last whisper of the God of Battles to his servant! The sentiment was a something hovering between the confines of earth and immortality, breathed only by the angel of death and of victory, as he descended to wait for the soul of the hero. Was there not poetry in the feeling that followed, when courage became sublimity, as the loud, long shout of ten thousand voices rushed along the line with the speed and the power of electricity, arresting the astonished sea-bird in its flight, silencing the deep-tongued voice of the waters, and falling on the dismayed hearts of their enemies, saying, "Every Englishman wILL do his duty!"

But it is unnecessary to record the actions of the mighty dead to illustrate poetry as existing in deeds; there is one still with us whose whole life has been an example; and in saying this, need I name the name of Wellington of Wellington the conqueror of Vimiera, of Talavera, of Salamanca, Vittoria, the Pyrenees, Orthes, Thoulouse, and Waterloo? On the morning of his last battle, when the first shrill notes of the pibroch rang in the streets of Brussels with the gathering air, “Come to me and I will give you flesh!"--was it heard by one of the tartaned mountaineers, who felt not in his breast the enthusiasm of a poet, and the heart of a Scotsman? When in the heat of the strife, the leader exclaimed, “Stand fast, 95th! we must not be beat! what would they say in England?" What would they say in England, was a volume of poetry bound up in six words. But if ever poetry were exemplified in action, it was at the crisis of Waterloo, when the Imperial Guard of the enemy, rushing like a torrent of fiery lava, amidst the thunderings and the roarings of artillery which covered them, sweeping away the opposing lines like chaff before the storm, had approached within a hundred yards of the dictator of the conflict, who, with his eagle eye, watching his opportunity to strike, to the veriest division of a moment, exclaimed to his troops, who had been re

cause" (I must repeat the sentiments I have heard from
thousands of young men of fashion) "I never talk to
girls-I dare not pay attention to unmarried women, be-
cause I am not a marrying man- -My friend
flirted with so and so, and was accused of behaving ill—
I don't like to excite false hopes-I shall never marry,
unless I can find a wife with at least two or three thou-
sand a-year, because I am much richer, unmarried, with
the fortune I have."

It is of no use to quarrel with the state of society as it is at present constituted, for we cannot alter it; but I think it might be beneficial to give a few hints on the education of women, which might perhaps be useful in procuring them, in a state of single blessedness, as it is very falsely called, a greater share of happiness, or a less load of misery, than they at present appear to me to possess after the awful age of thirty.

A girl at thirty is called an old maid—she goes to a ball, and generally sits neglected all the evening, or dances with some gentleman who has been often asked to dine at her father's house, and who, perhaps, remarks, “Miss

is rather passée-a good old girl and I must do my duty there; and now I shall dance with the beautiful Miss -." My heart always bleeds for the mortifications I see endured by these poor old girls continually. There are certainly some single women whose talents have made them as much considered in society as they ought to be; but then I have generally observed that they have fortunes, or have had advantages above others to bring them into notice, and to give to the natural ambition of the human species some scope of action. I will suppose a case in which there are four girls—a moderate proportion in one family-and two sons; and I will suppose their father possessed of fifteen hundred a-year. The estate, of course, goes to the eldest son; the second must be a clergyman, if his relations have any preferment, or he must be of some profession; of course, he can never marry without a large fortune-unless, at the age of forty-five, he has made one for himself. The eldest son, having been to Eton and Cambridge, has learnt that fifteen hundred a-year is nothing, and, in all probability, determines (not to be taken in) not to marry any lovely girl, without, at least, forty or fifty thousand pounds. I now come to my four young ladies. I will suppose one very pretty, one tolerably pretty, and the other two rather plain. They have been educated, in all probability,

as the greater proportion of English girls are: First of all, they have a strong orthodox belief in the Christian religion go every Sunday to church-and are, as I conceive all, or nearly all, the class of moderately rich English gentry to be, perfectly honourable, upright, and wellprincipled. It is only for their own happiness that I would propose any change in the education of a class for whom I entertain so high a respect.

To return to the four young ladies: They have all been brought up with the idea that they will become wives and mothers, and are taught to cherish those natural affections which, if by some remote chance one out of the four ever does marry, make them so amiable and lovely as such. They are all allowed to read modern novels, at least all such as are considered to have a moral tendency. Now, I maintain that there is scarcely one of these works which does not impress any young woman with the idea that happiness can alone be found in love and marriage. The heroine is very amiable and perfect, surrounded with admirers, all contending for the honours of her least notice; but where is the novel which represents four poor, pretty, unnoticed girls, who are destined to pass their young years without perhaps so much as one admirer amongst them? Year after year passes—their bloom and beauty fade and my four lovely and accomplished warmhearted beings, having seen all their youthful castles fall one by one, become listless and unhappy. They have little in life to interest them ;-one dies of a complaint in the spine; another lives many years on arrow-root and calf'sfoot jelly, and is enveloped in flannel even in July; a third is under the care of Dr S., for indigestion; and perhaps the fourth, who is made of tougher materials, and born with less feeling than the others or perhaps from having something to occupy her mind, in preparing the arrow-root for one sister, and ordering the hard dumplings, prescribed by Dr S., for the other outlives her sorrows and disappointments; and, if she takes an interest in her brother's children, or a share in their education, or in something which gives vent to those affections which are implanted by nature in the breast of woman, she becomes happy.

This, then, appears to me to be the secret too much neglected in female education. Teach them, by all means, that one great source of happiness consists in the indulgence of virtuous affection; but do not teach them that there is no affection capable of producing this happiness, except such as may be felt for a lover or husband. If the heart be properly regulated, it may take a warm and sufficiently engrossing interest in many objects less intimately connected with it. Marriage is a sad lottery, and, at the best, is a state full of cares and anxieties. Freedom and independence ought not to be lightly parted with, or set down as possessions of little value.

ORIGINAL POETRY.

BONNY DUNSYETTE,

Он bonny Dunsyette! in thy soft sunny glen,
All apart from the voice and the vices of men,
I have lived in my boyhood, exulting and free,
And my heart, in its night-dreams, reverts still to thee.

It is not that oft in that pure glassy flood,
Midst the shatter'd sun-sparkle reflected I stood,
And gazed on the brightness that wilder'd my brain,
Whilst the lark, thrush, and blackbird commingled their
strain.

It is not the woodland that circled me round,
Where the treasures of nut and of nestling are found;

Bonny Dunsyette, a romantic glen in the parish of Closeburn, Dumfries-shire, the birthplace of the author.

That sweet spot endureth, all shelter'd and green, And the nut and the nestling are still to be seen.

There are feelings more deep, recollections more bright,
That swell in my bosom, and crowd on my sight;
There are hearts that responded, in pain or in joy,
To the tears of the child, or the bliss of the boy.

Affection's bright morn, in its vision of bliss,
A father's kind grasp, and a fond mother's kiss,
The all of my boyhood, I long'd to retain--
Oh when, and oh where, shall I meet you again!
may roam, I have done it, o'er mountain and lea,—
I may see, I have seen it, what earth has to see,—
But whilst warm beats my heart-blood, I'll never forget
The friends of my boyhood, and "bonny Dunsyette."
T. G.

ΤΟ

By Laurence Macdonald.

THEY tell me that thy heart's no longer free,

And I believe it; for I've mark'd, of late, That thy dark eye's sweet smile falls not on me; Its light is now grown cold, and settled hate Seems lurking somewhere as I gaze on thee. But I can meet this, as I've met my fate, And show no sign of suffering, howsoe'er It darkens o'er my spirit. I can bear,

Have borne, ere now, what should have crush'd a heart That still throbs high, with all its strings unbroke, But loves less wildly as the years depart!

The goaded ox grows callous to the stroke, Nor heeds the pricking needle, nor doth smart,

As it was wont when first it bore the yoke. Thus I've become all harden'd; life's ills now Press harmless on me, nor can make me bow.

Nor love, nor hate, nor aught that thou dost keep
In that fair paradise-thy breast of snow-
Shall break my rest, or make me sounder sleep—
Insensible to all my life doth grow.
Youth's tide of passions more shall never sweep
Across my nerves, my reason to o'erthrow;
The world, ambition, now fill up the whole
Of my existence-fame, my final goal.

I'll make companions of my thoughts, and place
My heart's deep love on all that's great and pure;
Nor woman's smile, nor yet her beauteous face,
Shall more have power my spirit to allure.
Nor will I rest, till I have peopled space

With mind's immortal beings, that endure
All time, and claim a kindred to the skies,-
The all of us, perchance, that never dies!

Then farewell pleasures of the gay and vain;

I never loved them much, now less than ever, And parting with them costs me not a pain ;

But thus with thee I may not deem to sever; 'Twill take some courage to unbind the chain

Thy charms have wove around me; my nerves quiver Deep feelings stir within me: but I'll quell The throbbings of this breast, and burst the spell

'Tis done! my pride of heart hath set me free, Happy I ne'er shall witness aught so fair,

So full of light and loveliness, as thee!

And if this breath of mine could shape a prayer That might avail in heaven, its scope would be,

That thy bright brow should be untouch'd by care; That thy dark eye should be undimm'd by tears, And every joy that life can feel should crown thy years.

ANE NEWE SANGE TO ANE AULDE TUNE.

By J. Imlach, Author of " May Flowers."

Gude night, and joy be wi' you a'!

WE'VE drank to them that's hereabout,
We've drank to them that's far awa;
But fill again, there's ane, nae doubt,
We yet could drink abune them a'.
Wha drinks and deep-fair be his fa',
On him that winna, meikle shame,
As round and round the cup we ca',
A health to her we needna name!

I gie you joy, wha hae found grace

Wi' ane that's comely, kind, and true; I feel for you--I ken the case—

Whom some fair thief o' hearts gars rue, Though nocht you say, and swear, and do, Can wauk in her's the tender flame, Yet we're forgiving when we're fou— Here's health to her-whate'er her name!

O! wearie fa' the womankind,

They've been, sin' first the world began,
Sae fair o' mould-sae fause o' mind,
The blessing or the bane o' man;
Yet, after a', do what we can,

The bonnie dears we canna blame;
Sae a benison gae wi' our ban,

And health to her-whom we could name!

Auld Adam won a wearie life,

Till Eve, in Eden's bach'lor bowers, Was made the first o' men's gudewife The fairest o' the garden's flowers; Though dearly bought the social hours,

Wi' dool and death-wi' sin and shameWe think them cheap, when pass we ours Wi' her we'll drink-but daurna name.

The waukrife cock fu' loudly craws,

The merry morn begins to blink, And troth it's time to wear our wa's When folk begin to lisp and wink; Whate'er we thole, whate'er we think,

In this we'll do and say the same, We'll brim the bowl, and deep we'll drink A health to her-that each could name!

THE GLOAMIN'.

By the Author of " May Flowers." WHEN day wanes to the gloamin',

And night glooms o'er the glen, my boys!

When cogs are fou and foamin',

A jovial time 'tis then, my boys!

Let daffin' youth gang roamin'

By burn and trysting tree, my boys,
But when day wanes to the gloamin'
We meet for mirth and glee, my boys!

See, the drouthie sun is sinking

To tipple in the sea, my boys! But the moon will soon be blinking, To brighten lift and lea, my boys! And the flowers of earth be drinking Their cups of nectar dew, my boys! And the stars of heaven be winking Like us—when roaring fou, my boys!

Should kirkyard ghaists be gliding

At night's mirk eerie noon, my boys!

Or witch or warlock riding

On broomsticks to the moon, my boys! Should kelpie wait our guiding

Across the spetted stream, my boys!

A' evil snares avoiding,

We'll wait the morning beam, my boys!

Gie me-gie me the gloamin',

When light wanes in the west, my boys! It is the hour for roaming,

It is the hour for rest, my boys! Here's love to winsome woman,

And luck to honest men, my boys! O! when day wanes to the gloamin', A jovial time 'tis then, my boys!

TO AN OLD STRANDED WAR-SHIP.
By William Mayne.

THERE was not one who thought that day,
When thou wert launch'd in youthful pride,
Glittering in rich and bright array,

Upon the glad embracing tide,
That thou shouldst lie so low and lone,
Upon this wild and bayless shore,
Thy power and fame for ever gone,
And all thy glory o'er !

The wind now o'er thy dark front glides,
And passes swift and wistfully
Throughout thy shivering broken sides,
With fitful and impatient cry,
As if it wish'd thee to arise

From thy ignoble place of rest,
And in the free and gladsome skies
Once more upraise thy crest.

Oh! often hast thou proudly spread
Thy sails upon th' inspiring breeze,
And merrily and boldly sped

Along the dark bewildering seas;
Exulting in thy glorious might,

Daring the dangers of the wave, Strong in the hearts that sway'd thy flight, So careless, free, and brave!

It was not well in those who swept
With thee along the ocean wild,
And in thy friendly bosom slept,
While the strong waves around it coil'd,
To leave thee all forsaken here,
Half-buried in the drifting sand,
No more across the deep to steer,
Far from the sluggish land.

Yet, ah! perhaps they long have been
Reposing in the gloom of death,
Down 'mid that wild and marvellous scene.
The ocean darkly shows beneath;
Perhaps they're scatter'd from thee far
Along the broad sea's winding shore,
And feel, like thee, the rousing war
Of breeze and wave no more.

Yet, was it here to waste away,

That thou still triumph'd o'er the storm, And 'neath the waves' destroying sway Ne'er bent thy huge and gallant form? Oh, better were it far to dwell

Down in the dark and moaning sea, Beside those hearts thou loved'st so well, Who deeply trusted thee!

When the broad waves of midnight gush

Up from the sea around thy side, And o'er thy front the storm-winds rush, And rend thee in their wrath and pride,— Upon their strength thou shouldst arise, And hurry to the ocean's breast, And, torn by their fierce energies, Sink in the waves to rest!

WRITTEN ON THE FRITH OF FORTH.
THE waters bound beneath us, and we ride
In gallant trim along the briny tide.
All's life and motion, and the winds on high
Sing their wild chorus while careering by;
But yon fair city, fading to the view,
Holds all my heart adores; it is to you,
Thou dark-eyed beauty with the polish'd brow,
Whose lovely image glides before me now,
That all my thoughts are tending, as we fly
O'er ocean's breast, like eagle through the sky!
Shouldst thou but be to me, as is yon star,
Adored and worshipp'd, though it dwells afar,
I'll love thee not the less!-Though it may be
That thy dark eye can never smile on me,
Its light will not the less illume the way
My faltering steps pursue through life's dull day.
No; I can shape thy image on the face
Of the wide waters, and can people space,
How far and fathomless soe'er it be,

With fond and fairy forms that look like thee!
And though thy fancy or the fates enshrine
Thy love within some nobler heart than mine,
Thou art within my soul embodied so,
That I can never all of thee forego;
But at my will, as if with magic power,

I'll call thee forth to chase life's gloomiest hour-
To colour every scene that meets the eye,
Whether I gaze on ocean, earth, or sky,
Until those features in the play of mind
Become so bright, they strain the vision blind.
Should thy fair classic home of far-spread fame,
Among her deathless sons enroll my name,
Thou mayst behold me in thy visions, blending
With thy sire's greatness, through all time extending;
And should the fates thus much accord to me,
Fame's wing shall waft o'er time some trace of thee!
16th May, 1830.

SONNET.

WHEN I look round upon the goodly crowd
Who mingle on the surface of the earth,
And think scarce one would give a pause to mirth,
Were I to-morrow stiffening in my shroud,-
It almost startles me to find that I

Am bound to life by links so passing few,
Even in my prime, when every pulse beats high,
And much of nature still is fresh and new.

I am a miser in my wish to hoard

A mint of deep affections, for to me

The love of others is the golden key

That doth unlock the shrine where lieth stored
My hope of happiness. Let glory go!
But, O! above my bier let many a fond tear flow!

H. G. B.

LITERARY CHIT-CHAT AND VARIETIES.

A NEW Annual, called The Remembrance, is to be added to those already on the list for 1831. It is to be edited by Thomas Roscoe, Esq., and will contain twelve fine engravings. Among these will be the following subjects:-Her most excellent Majesty, Queen Adelaide the Coliseum at Rome-Mont Blanc-the Draugh t-playersWindsor Castle-the Girl at the Brook-Warwick Castle-the Blackbird at Home-Who'd be a Butterfly-and John Gilpin. Most of these engravings we have already seen, and can safely pronounce some of them exceedingly beautiful.,

The readers and admirers of the Life of Sir Thomas Munro will be gratified to learn, that a third volume of the Correspondence of that distinguished individual is about to be published. Besides a continuation of the letters to his family, which formed a principal charm of the preceding volumes, there are, we understand, in the present, his familiar communications to the Duke of Wellington, the Marquis of Hastings, Mr Elphinstone, Sir Graham Moore, and a great number of the most conspicuous public characters of the age. The forthcoming Heiress of Bruges, by Mr Grattan, is, it appears, an historical novel, founded on events in the History of the Netherlands in the year 1660, and the scene varies between Bruges, Brussels, and the romantic country towards the Meuse.

A lady of the name of Mrs Harding, who must be the very concentrated essence of all the blues, announces a work, to be entitled “Πλουτος ὁ της ψυχής, πλουτος μονος εστιν αληθης.”

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The Midsummer Medley, about to be published by the author of Brambletye House, consists of a series of comic tales and sketches in prose and verse.

An Analysis of Elocution, exhibiting the most useful observations and rules on the art of reading and speaking, together with principles of gesture-a dissertation on the passions-and strictures on former writers on these subjects;-with select extracts, peculiarly adapted for delivery, by John D. Russell, teacher of elocution in Edinburgh, is preparing for publication.

THE SIAMESE TWINS.-These remarkable youths are at present in Edinburgh, and have already been visited by many of the scientific characters of this city, as well as by a great crowd of miscellaneous enquirers into the wonderful and the curious. We may probably take an opportunity next week of speaking of the exhibition at greater length, and in the meantime beg to point it out as one well worthy the attention of our readers.

A

CHIT-CHAT FROM LONDON.-Mr Buckingham, the Oriental tra veller, is anxious to have a ship built for him at the public expense, in order to perform a voyage round the world, from which he expects numerous mercantile advantages to accrue to this country. public meeting has been held by those friendly to the plan; and the public generally are invited to lend it their support. Mr Buckingham is a stirring man, and may perhaps succeed in carrying it through-Jeremy Bentham has amused himself in his old age with drawing up a code of laws for the Horticultural Society-Boai, the person who plays tunes upon his chin, put off his performance the other day in consequence of his having caught a cold,-it must cer tainly have been the chin-cough. A lady has made her appearance in Germany who almost beats Boai, for she plays beautifully on the piano-forte with her nose! What will these people do next?-Ed ward Irving has preached a funeral sermon for George IV., which contains some odd passages, and is consequently talked of a littleall that the orator wished, no doubt.-The King has sent a graciou message to the President of the Royal Academy, (Sir Martin Arche Shee,) enquiring in what way his Majesty can most promote th interests of the Fine Arts; and the President has laid the royal com munication before the members of the Academy, who will of cours give the matter their most serious attention.

Theatrical Gossip.-This is a dull time at the Theatres. Nothin new is going on in London worth mentioning.-Miss Paton has bee performing in Cork with applause, but Wood was not allowed to ap pear along with her. When she played Polly in the " Beggar's Opera, a Miss Dyer played Lucy. We suppose this is the same Miss Dye who disappeared from the Edinburgh Theatre rather mysteriousi some years ago.-Miss Cubitt, a young lady who sang and was ad dicted to the bottle, has died.-Many of the provincial manager have opened their Theatres for a few weeks during the slack time i London. Miss Jarman is performing in Worthing. As she is not t appear at Drury-Lane next winter, we take it for granted that w shall have her here, as we are not aware that the manager could e gage any one nearly so likely of being generally popular, or so ab to make herself useful in almost every department of her professio -Kean is paying a farewell visit to Liverpool.-Rossini and Catala have been together at Florence for some time.-We are glad to lear that Jones has been drawing better houses of late at Perth. He h been playing Lord Ogleby in the "Clandestine Marriage" with gre eclat. Are we not to have Jones once more on our stage next wi ter?

TO OUR CORRESPONDENTS.

WE regret that the "Sketches of Character in Low Life," "W. H. G." of Glasgow, will not exactly suit us.—Our Correspon ent at West Barns will perceive we have made considerable alter tions on his obliging communication.-We fear we shall not be ab to make room for the paper by "H." of Peterhead. The letter fro Dunfermline is sensibly written, but the subject has become rath trite.

Our poetical Correspondents in Dumfries, Selkirk, and elsewher must excuse us till next week.

Our readers will perceive that we this week present them wi half a sheet of additional matter.

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LITERARY CRITICISM.

THE PAST AND PRESENT STATE OF FRANCE.

Bulletin Universel: Sections des Sciences Mathematiques, des Sciences Naturelles, et des Sciences Historiques. Avril, 1830. Edinburgh: Thomas Clark.

Annales des Mines, ou Recueil des Memoires sur l'Exploitation des Mines et sur les Sciences qui s'y rapportent; rédigées par le Conseil Général des Mines. A Paris; chez Treuttel et Wurtz. Edinburgh: Thomas Clark. Dictionnaire Technologique, ou Nouveau Dictionnaire Universel des Arts et Métiers, et de l'Economie Industrielle et Commerciale; par une Société de Savans et d'Artistes. Tome Quinzième A Paris; chez Thomine Libraire. Edinburgh: Thomas Clark.

Ueber die Gerichtsverfassung und das gerichtliche Verfahren Frankreichs, in besonderer Bezie hung auf die Oeffentlichkeit und Mündlichkeit der Gerechtegkeitspflege. Von Anselm Ritter von Feuerbach. (On the Legal Institutions and Forms of Process in France, as tending to illustrate the effects of Publicity and Oral Pleadings in Courts of Justice. By Anselm von Feuerbach.) THE nature of our last importation from France is of a kind to confirm our inclination to take, instead of entering at present into a criticism of any individual work, a more general view of the state and prospects of society which have just received so rude a shock in their progress towards maturity. Our remarks labour under a disadvantage from the extreme condensation imposed upon us by our limits; they are, however, the fruits of a long and extensive examination into French affairs.

When we say that France was a representative monarchy, we must guard against an impression, easily produced by the vagueness of the term, that her constitution was similar to that of England. With us, not only a portion of the legislative, but a large share of the executive management of the country, remains in the hands of the people or of their representatives. In France, the whole executive, down to its pettiest details, was vested exclusively in the sovereign. In England, the rights of the subject are as undoubtedly and originally his as those of the monarch-the origin of both lies hid in the same antiquity. In France, the rights of the subject were a gift from the king, and dated no farther back than the charter.

The king performed the public duties through the medium of six ministers, whose inferior agents, all nominated by the crown, were spread in the strictest subordination and organization through every department of the kingdom. The first minister was the Minister of Justice. The office of this minister was, by means of deputies, to communicate to the different tribunals all new laws, rescripts, and ordonnances—to enforce the strict observance of legal forms and discipline in all the courts of France-to appear in every private case for the interest of the law, when it is strained and perverted by the interests of contending parties to act as the advocate of the state in all fiscal questions and to discharge

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PRICE 6d.

the office of a public prosecutor. The officials composing this branch of the administration were known by the name of the Parquet, consisted of general procurators and general advocates, together with a king's procurator and two substitutes for every tribunal in France, and amounted in all to 969 persons. The tribunals over which this body kept watch were the courts in each arrondissement, which judge in the first instance; the courts of appeal, whose jurisdiction extended over one or more departments; and the Court of Cassation. The number of the district courts amounted to 361, each consisting of three judges; the king's procurator and his substitute; the clerks and ushers of court; and three or more suppléants, distinguished lawyers, whose vote was taken in the necessary absence of a judge, or when there happened to be partage des voix." Each of these courts dispensed law through a population of from fifty to eighty thousand souls. The courts of appeal were divided into three classes. of four presidents, twenty councillors, a general-procuraThe first class (thirteen in number) consisted tor, five general advocates and substitutes, clerks and ushers, and was divided into three chambers-la chambre civile, la chambre d'appels de police correctionelle, et la chambre de mise en accusation. The second class (ten in number) consisted of five presidents and twenty-five councillors, and was divided into four chambers, of which two were devoted to civil affairs. The third class (of which there were only two, Rennes and Paris) were divided into five chambers. Civil questions can only reach these courts, by way of appeal from the courts of the different arrondissements, or from the chambres de commerce, instituted for the judgment of purely mercantile matters, in two hundred and twelve of the principal towns and cities. In questions of criminal law it was their office to decide on the relevancy of the accusations against persons whom it was proposed to try at the assizes, and to give final sentences in such police matters as might be tried without a jury. With this court lay the nomination of the judges of assize, who sat every quarter of a year in the head town of every department, to try criminal cases with a jury. There were, in general, named to this office, a councillor of the court of appeal, and four judges of the arrondissement in which the assizes were held. The decrees of the courts of appeal were final, and could not be altered by any other tribunal. The Court of Cassation, which sat at Paris, consisted of four presidents, forty-four councillors, a general procurator, with six general advocates, a principal and four depute clerks, with ushers; and was divided into three sections, one of which was devoted to criminal, and two to civil matters. To this court appertained the decision in all questions of contested jurisdiction, and the pronouncing sentence in the case of any judge accused of improper discharge of his office. It had likewise a power of reviewing such decisions of any court of appeal that might be submitted to its consideration; of declaring them null when contrary to law, and remitting such cases to be tried anew by some other court of appeal. These courts are freed from a mass of trifling cases, by the justice of peace courts established in each canton. Each of these consists of a justice of peace, remuncrated by

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