to entertain thoughts of escaping; whereupon, the same author tells us, "Charles had formerly given his word of honor to Colonel Whalley, the Governor, not to attempt an escape: he now withdrew it, under pretence that of late he had been as narrowly watched as if no credit were due to his promise." A little later he did escape to the Isle of Wight, notwithstanding that, upon the withdrawal of his promise, it was made much more difficult for him to escape. Again, about a year later, soon after the negotiations at Newport, the same author tells us that, upon being informed that a military force was on its way to make him prisoner, "Charles immediately consulted the Duke of Richmond, the Earl of Lindsey, and Colonel Coke, who joined in conjuring him to save his life by an immediate escape. The night was dark and stormy: they were acquainted with the watchword; and Coke offered him horses and a boat. But the King objected, that he was bound in honor to remain twenty days after the treaty ; nor would he admit of the distinction which they suggested, that his parole was given not to the army, but to the Parliament." Instances of a similar nature might easily be multiplied; but these are enough to show that if "not one of his enemies could reciprocate the compliment," it must have been their fault, not his. As to the general question of the King's sincerity, we have nothing to say. Hallam, who shows as much impartiality as can well be expected, on such a subject, though he greatly blames the King's insincerity, excuses it in a great measure, on account of “the extreme hypocrisy of many of his enemies. Again Mr. Headley asserts that Charles "was always under the influence of weak men." Now, before the meeting of the long Parliament, among the King's chief councilors were Strafford, Coventry, and Laud: that Strafford was an able man, will hardly be questioned; all agree that Coventry was both an able and an honest man; and no one who is at all acquainted either with Laud's writings or his administration, will pronounce him a weak man. After the meeting of the Parliament, his leading councilors were Lord Falkland, Lord Colepepper, and, more influential with him than any of the others, Sir Edward Hyde, confessedly one of the greatest and best men of the age. Next to these, he was under the influence of such men as Hertford, Southampton, Capel, Hapton, Juxon, Hammond and Sanderson; men whom if any one chooses to call weak, it would seem hardly worth while to dispute with him. But what, perhaps, will weigh still more with Mr. Headley, the King was for some time considerably under the influence of Mr. St. John, who, as a member of his council, treacherously advised him to do things which he knew to be wrong, and then miserably betrayed him, turning the very things which himself had been the first to advise, into a ground of proceeding against him. So much for the statement that Charles was always under the influence of weak men. Numerous other similar statements might be specified, which would be found, upon examination, equally deficient in candor. These are real blemishes in the book; they hinder its success with many, without helping its success with any. Wishing well to the book and its frank, generous author, we here dismiss them, hoping that the one will have an abundant circulation, which it well deserves, and that the other will hereafter write with more sobriety, which he can do certainly without any prejudice to his popularity. THE NEW YEAR BELLS OF GOTHAM. 66 FROM MARSCHALK MANOR." 66 'Ding dong, My ceaseless song, But never for long." 'Twas new year's eve, fifteen years ago. For hours thick drifting snow was lightly strewn from Heaven upon earth, gladdening the hearts of the rich with thoughts of the morrow's joy, and chilling the hearts of the poor with dreadful forebodings of the morrow's suffering. Eight! nine! ten! Still the snow continued to fall, until there could no single nook or corner be found, where the tiny flakes had not nestled snugly together. The morning had found the year sombre and grey, with thoughts of its speedy dissolution. Now, ere the year was fairly dead, a thick winding sheet was thrown loosely over it, and the night-wind, sweeping round each corner and down each street and lane, sighed forth a mournful elegy. Eleven! The storm now ceased to rage, for the shroud was fully woven. The wind no longer mourned its plaint, for the dying year's elegy was sufficiently sung. The dark file of lowering clouds passed slowly from off the face of the sky, like mourners bearing away the mighty deceased. And the little stars looking forth blinking joyously, and eagerly watching to see the new-born successor come in. Twelve! At the first stroke of the hour, responsive echoes caught up the tone, and each steeple pealed forth the gladdening news that the sun had commenced a new course. And immediately, all memory of the old year was flying aside, and his white shroud seized as a beautiful christening robe for the new. Twelve! The hour was struck, but still the merry bells were swung madly on. Old Trinity first set the gladsome tune; St. Paul's joined in with a sweet concord; and soon, many were the iron tongues which helped to swell the harmonious symphony. A quarter past twelve! Half past twelve! A quarter to one! The joyous bells were yet tossed to and fro, ringing forth a merry exhilarating New Year's chime. Awakened sleepers turned heavily in their beds, and, wondering at the sound, fell to dreaming again. Belated revellers started and listened, and paused in their frequent toasting of the new-born child of time, to add their loud huzzas to the boisterous clangor. And the watchman in his round, gazing fearfully up at each shaking steeple, shuddered, as between each returning note, he heard the sullen creak of the self-turned wheel; and, if a good Catholic, piously crossed himself, as he believed it to be the agency of some benignant saint or spirit; or, if not brought up in a reverential belief in saints, ran swiftly by, as gloomy fears of scheming devils and grinning imps tortured his mind. Wherefore did these bells thus awaken the echoes of night, unaided by mortal hands? There was more meaning in the sound than mortal men knew of. For those midnight bells were the mouth-pieces of things which that night were endowed with sympathizing spirits, and permitted to hold communion together. It was Old Trinity that raised the first note of friendly greeting, and he loudly called to St. Paul's; "Dost thou sleep, Brother?" "How can I sleep, when the new year must be hailed with glad notes of welcome? Or how could I wish to sleep when my increasing age makes each returning year so much more interesting to me than the last? For when I ring my yearly anthem, I can but think of days long past, when other men lived and moved around me. Upon each returning year, by-gone times are yet more disregarded; for present magnificence has eclipsed former simplicity, and the flaunting pride of gorgeous wealth forbids a frequent remembrance of honest ancestral poverty. Men gaze but on the present and the future. Let us leave the heart to turn back and greet old forgotten times. Then ring on, Brother Trinity, and let it be a merry strain; for while we joy over the new year, we should also rejoice that they who once raised us from the ground have not lived to see their fond work despised, and insulted with contemptuous criticisms." The two bells thereupon were rung together in a merry peal, when, from a neighboring steeple, a third one broke in upon their sweet concord. "Hark! It is our brother, the Middle Dutch. thou?" 66 What say'st How can I keep silence, when such subjects are revived to my recollection? Would that I could speak to men as I now speak to you! What tales of wonder could I not reveal? I could make the wealthiest, the proudest and the most overbearing tremble at the deeds of Revolutionary misery and bloodshed I could chronicle. And I would so speak to him of his ingratitude in forgetting his worthy ancestors, by whose economy he has gained wealth and by whose years of war he has gained peaceful enjoyment, that he would writhe under the consciousness of his shame and self-abasement." "And I too," was responded through the silver-toned bell of the North Dutch. "I could tell harrowing tales of the time when men were brought to me in fear and trembling, and with a dread ful prospect of years of cruel imprisonment ;-when few left my portals except for hasty burial;-and when even the free of the city hurried past with averted looks, and wonderingly asked Heaven, why, having been built for the spread of peace and mercy, I should thus be allowed to become a scourge." "We can all tell our tales," a grim, dark frowning building in the Park, added, "Have I not also seen woe in all its depth? Have not my cells been tightly crowded with unhappy prisoners? Have not the small-pox and the fever raged within my walls remorseless and uncontrolled, for months at a time? Did not my door daily open, that the corpses of the untended dead might be carried out, and in their place, new patriot victims consigned to my fetid contagious atmosphere? Have not the horrors I could mention, been tinged with a yet deeper hue, by the cruel, cold-blooded atrocity of a Cunningham ?" No loud-toned bell bore these words from the old Jail. The awakened sleeper, and the belated reveler, heard no unusual sound from its gray walls to excite their wonder, nor did the watchman tremble to pass its frowning front, for all seemed cold and still. But there was a voice which stole gently through the air :-a sympathetic whisper, which Trinity and St. Paul's, the Middle and North Dutch all heard, and to which they simultaneously answered: "Aye, you, like us, could reveal strange tales to man, were it so permitted. Are there none else who could read the rich proud egotist a lesson from the past?" "Have not I "Can not I?" said the old German Lutheran. been a prison-house for a patriot array? Have not I heard sighs groans, and seen the dead and the dying?" and "Cannot I also?" came a voice from Fort Clinton, mingled with the dull beating of the bay against its base. "Who has known more noonday drills, and midnight musterings than I? And have I not had colors flaunting on my flag-staff, which the next day were torn down and trampled under foot? Have I not seen brave fleets approach in triumph, and again depart in disgrace?" “And I also could read the wealthy upstart a lesson," the Bowling Green murmured. "What of the days of old have I not seen? Who can speak to him better than I, of the several outbreaks of that liberal spirit which paved the way for his present security of wealth and fortune?" |