Page images
PDF
EPUB

and pour them into a pot with two gallons and a half of water. Why, d-n it, Quin,' they simultaneously exclaimed, you don't mean to say that the soup we've been drinking was made of old boots?—I do, gentlemen,' he replied, by G-d! my cook will assure you she chopped them up.' They required no such attestation; his cool, inflexible expression was sufficient: in an instant, horror and despair were depicted on each countenance, in the full conviction they were individually poisoned. Quin, observing this, begged them not to be alarmed, since he could contemplate no dangerous results from their dinner; but if they thought it would sit uneasy on their stomachs, there was an apothecary's shop in the next street. The hint was taken: an idea of personal safety subdued the rising throbs of indignation. Seizing their hats, away flew the whole bevy down the stairs, along the street to the place advised, where ipecacuanha and other provocatives were speedily procured, and the Siamese soup' (and all its concomitants) were speedily disgorged."

|

ladies' and gentlemen's wishes, fearing, as it seemed, to trust his body within their reach. He had then to assure them that the breaking of the string was purely accidental, and that Messrs Thadeus O'Hoone and Patrick Byrne were willing to come forward and make an apology. Their enthusiasm had now passed away, and the ladies and gentlemen were open to reason and benevolence. The musicians appeared, were received into favour, the curtain went up, and all was forgotten."

We have room for only one other quotation. It is one we should be unwilling to omit, because it contains an anecdote of John Kemble with which we were before unacquainted, but which is of itself enough to stamp his character as a man of courage, independence, and integrity:

JOHN KEMBLE AND MISS PHILLIPS.

"In addition to the assizes, a review was to take place, this being a time of some political excitement both in England and Ireland. The latter was another cause which Such of our readers as have never visited an Irish contributed to the filling of the town and theatre. John theatre, are in worse than heathen darkness as to the real Kemble was a member of the Dublin Volunteer Corps,' power and attributes of the gods. The manner in which which passed inspection on this occasion, and on the partithey there rule the roast from their own Olympian heights, cular day was exempted from his dramatic, to attend to his and the liberties they scruple not to take with the mere military, duties. In the evening, he dined with the corps, and when the glass had filled pretty frequently, a genmortals below them, whether in the pit and boxes, or on tleman next him, being mellowed to that open communithe stage, would astonish a novice in a degree beyond his cativeness of disposition which so eminently marks the vo utmost calculation. Some small notion of their ways taries of Bacchus, nudged John, with a chuckle, and whismay be gathered from a scene which Mr Bernard wit-pered in his ear that there was a rare joke going on at the nessed at the Mallow theatre, and which he describes with a good deal of humour, in the following terms:

THE HUMOURS OF AN IRISH THEATRE.

[ocr errors]

theatre. Kemble was eager to know it. Why, mum!' said his companion; you know, Lord Clanwilliam' (who commanded a troop of horse in the neighbourhood ;)' he has laid a plan to carry off Miss Phillips after the performance; the officers are to assist him, and I was to have been of the party, only that I am much happier here.'

"Our amusement commenced the instant we entered the house, in listening to a conversation that was going on between the gallery and the orchestra, the latter composed of a performer on the violin and one on the big drum: Mr Patrick Moriarty,' shouted the combiner of horse-hair and catgut, how are you, my jewel?'- Asy and impudent, Teddy O'Hoone; how are you? How's your son?'-' Mischieyous and tender, like all of her sex. What tune would it plase you to have, Mr Patrick Moriarty? Mr Patrick was indifferent, and referred the matter to a committee of females. In the meantime, Teddy began to tune up, at which another of his divine' companions above assailed him. Arra! Teddy O'Hoone! Teddy, you devil!-treat, unobserved and unimpeded, and reached the theatre What do you say, Larry Kennedy?' Tip us a tune on your fiddle-de-dee, and don't stand there making the cratcher squake like a hog in a holly-bush. Paddy Byrne,' (to the drummer.) What do you say, Mr Kennedy?'An't you a jewel, now, to be setting there at your ase, when here's a whole cockloft full of jontlemen come to hear you thump your big bit of cowhide on the top of a buttertub?'

"Kemble was completely sobered at this information, for at that time there was a growing attachment between him and the fair songstress; he had, therefore, observed Lord Clanwilliam's attentions to the former, but never suspected they were serious, or capable of resulting in such unmanly, as well as illegal, measures. But he kept his seat with that coolness which, always denoting courage, never deserted him; pretended to laugh at the affair, and plied his companion so briskly with the bottle, that the head of the latter soon sank on the table. He then made his rebefore the farce had concluded. Within ten yards of the stage-door, he saw an evidence of what he had heard, a coach-and-four in waiting for his Lordship, and behind the scenes, its full confirmation-an officer was lolling at each wing, and the noble personage himself sauntering backwards and forwards.

"Miss Phillips's dressing-room was on a level with the stage, (being a disused property-room,) and by its door John took his stand, with the utmost decision, but indifference. Lord Clanwilliam and his companions were far from sustheirs, endeavoured to draw him away, by inviting him to supper. John, however, steadfastly refused their temptations, and, when the curtain fell, stept up to Miss Phillips, and said, in the hearing of all present, I have been told, what I don't wish to believe, but have come here to ascertain, that a most unmanly and disgraceful plot has been laid to carry you off, after the performance, this evening.'(Actors, officers, and scene-shifters, stared in confusionMiss Phillips clasped her hands. Don't be alarmed,' he continued; I have come here to protect you; and if you do get into the coach which is waiting at the door, it shall only be by your own consent, or when I have lost the power to wield the weapon at my side.'

"A popular air was at length decided on in the gallery, and a general dance ensued, as a sort of active preliminary to the amusements to come; but which proved highly un-pecting his design, but fearing he might be a hinderance to pleasant to us, who did not participate, inasmuch as the cockloft being rather wide in its seams, our hats and coats were presently covered with as thick a layer of dust as might have been accumulated in a hundred miles' ride on the dicky of a coach. The exhilaration of the gods, moving through their peculiar measure on Olympus top,' and uttering their wild shrieks and cries, would have been rather amusing, had we not feared every moment that the loft would come through. The unfortunate fiddler, however, who was ministering with great diligence to their diversion, at length broke a string and suspended it; but they were now in a state of too high excitement to permit accidents, or enquire into causes; and the musician's sudden defalcation from duty could only be looked at in the light of a personal affront. The gentlemen above stairs had not brought pistols, but they had got potatoes; and my reader can imagine how they revenged themselves. A hurricane of epithets-too delicate to be repeated-broke from their lips, and then each saltator grasped his potato, and, like a skilful body of engineers, directed a discharge at the pericraniums of the band.' This active expression of their feelings was managed with such true aim and vigour, that the offender and his companion made a speedy retreat behind the green curtain. The potatoes being boiled, however, instead of indicting any injury, conferred a benefit: the fiddler was enabled to pocket the affront. A terrible uproar now ensued, and the manager was called for, who, after some delay, put his head out at the first wing, to enquire the

"With these words, he conducted her to her room, and, unsheathing his sword, planted himself before it, in a tragic attitude certainly, because it happened to be a very serious one. The regimentals he wore guaranteed his resolution, and the full proportion of his frame amply evidenced his power to carry any threat into effect. John was not acting now!

"Miss Phillips, on entering her room, burst into a flood of tears; and the company gathering round, their presence, together with the looks of Kemble, led the officers to conclude that the stratagem was pretty effectually frustrated: they accordingly sneaked out, one by one, leaving their noble commander leaning in a kind of stupor against a wing. Miss Phillips at length quitted her room, and put her arm under Kemble's, who, bowing to her adınirer, conducted

her out of the theatre, and passed the group of officers collected near the door; neither obstruction nor insult was offered him, and he left his fair companion at her residence in safety.

"The next day this circumstance got wind, and neither Lord Clanwilliam nor his troop would show their faces in the city. They laughed it off, however, in the usual way, when schemes are frustrated, by saying it was a joke. But the public believed otherwise, and demonstrated their sympathy at Miss Phillips's benefit; they also recompensed Kemble for the loss of his Lordship's patronage: certainly never did a private circumstance so suddenly exalt a man in popular esteem. Kemble's gallantry and courage were the general theme of conversation."

The two volumes of this work hitherto published bring down Mr Bernard's retrospections only to the year 1797, when he embarked for America, to take under his management the principal theatres of the New World. He went on the stage originally in 1774, and did not leave it till 1820, so that we are as yet presented with only the half of his. narrative. Whether the remaining portion will appear or not, seems to depend on the success of that now published. We confess we should be sorry to lose the continuation of a work which we have perused with pleasure, the more especially as the latter half is likely to contain many things fully as interesting as the first.

The North American Review. No. LVIII. July, 1830. Boston: Gray & Bower. Edinburgh: Adam Black. THIS is the best and most amusing number of the North American Review that we have received for some time back. There is a great variety of matter, and the different subjects are treated frequently with much eloquence.

The topics, exclusively American, are discussed in three papers: one upon the New England Asylum for the Blind; one upon Sunday Mails; and one upon a work entitled "Sketches of Indian Life and Character." The ́second of these evinces an amiable and pious spirit in the author, but the strong disapprobation he expresses of the practice of forwarding the mail upon Sundays, seems to us to rest upon a misapprehension. The Indian Sketches, although highly praised by the reviewer, appear more valuable as correct portraitures of savage manners, than on account of any imaginative power displayed in them. The first-mentioned article is by far the most important of the three. It contains an ingenious, though, on some points, even fanciful, discussion respecting the comparative advantages and disadvantages of blindness; an able sketch of the Edinburgh and Parisian systems of education for the blind; and some interesting statistical details respecting the prospects of the Asylum lately established at Boston. A resolution, it appears, was passed by the legislature of Massachusetts in 1829, requiring the select-men of the several towns to make returns respecting the number and condition of the blind

throughout the colony. Only a few of them complied, but the deficiency was in some measure made good by the exertions of the clergy, to whom circulars were addressed. By these means advices were received from one hundred and forty-one towns, that is from somewhat less than the half of the whole number within the state. Taking the estimate furnished by these returns as a basis, and adopting the census of 1820, the number of blind at that period in New England could not be less than sixteen hundred and fifty. It also appears from the returns that a large proportion of the blind in Massachusetts are in humble circumstances. Since the year 1825, an appropriation has been continued by the legislature, for the purpose of maintaining a certain number of blind pupils at the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb at Hartford. An act of incorporation was granted, in March 1829, to certain petitioners, authorizing them, under the title of the "New England Asylum for the Blind," to hold-property,

receive donations and bequests, and to exercise other functions usually appertaining to similar corporations.

The notices of European Literature are contained in essays upon the Report of the Meeting of German Naturalists at Heidelberg in 1829; Villemain's Miscellanies; Moore's Life of Byron; Stewart's Moral Philosophy; and Griesbach's New Testament. The first of these papers gives an account of an association, with the name and object of which we have already made our readers acquainted. The reviewer notices the deputation from the French savans connected with the Bulletin Universel, and expresses a wish that some American naturalists might take measures for establishing a similar scientific intercourse between Europe and America. We may remark, whilst upon this subject, that we hoped to have been able ere this to announce to our readers the formation of a society of Scottish naturalists, and the departure of some of its members as delegates to the German Association, which meets this year in Hamburg. We trust the scheme has only been deferred, not abandoned.—To return to the North American Review,—the critique of Villemain's Miscellanies consists of a series of elegant disquisitions, as multifarious as the topics treated of in the book itself, The review of the Life of Byron takes a view of the noble poet's character diametrically opposed to our own, but ably brought out, and stated in a manly and candid tone.. The article on Griesbach's New Testament contains a judicious appreciation of the critical merits of that celebrated edition. That upon Dugald Stewart's Philosophy, although perhaps a little lengthy, contains much good and ingenious remark. The following passage seems to us at once just and well expressed :

"The distinguishing characteristics of the talent and manner of Stewart being thus, as we have described them, of a nature to give his works a great popularity, and to enable him to exercise an extensive influence upon publie opinion, it is not less fortunate for the world than creditable to himself, that they are inspired throughout by the purest and most amiable moral feelings. We are acquainted with no philosophical writings in any language, which leave upon the mind a happier impression. The principles which he sets forth upon the most important points in the theory of ethics are, in our opinion, far from being in all cases true, as we shall presently have occasion to show; but determines the general effect of the whole upon the opinions the tone of sentiment is uniformly pure; and as it is this that and feelings of the mass of readers, it follows, of course, that the effect is uniformly good. This amiable writer has, in fact, breathed into all his works the kind, gentle, social, and benevolent spirit by which he was himself animated He not only teaches us to believe in virtue, but brings the celestial vision before us, in full loveliness and beauty, so as fends all the liberal and philanthropic notions that have ever to engage our affections in her favour. He adopts and debeen advanced by the lovers of mankind, while he avoids, at the same time, the excesses by which injudicious partisans have so often brought, and are still bringing, the best of causes into contempt and ridicule. He is pious, without fanaticism,-cheerful and benevolent, without an approach to licentiousness. He is devotedly attached to liberty, withorder and good government. He believes in the practicaout deeming it necessary to renounce his respect for social bility of improvement, without indulging in the idle dream of an earthly millennium. It had happened, by a sort of fatality, that almost all the works on moral philosophy, at least in modern times, which were written in an agreeable and attractive style, had inculcated principles not only false in themselves, but completely subversive of the good order the eighteenth century, had presented their detestable docof society. Helvetius, and the other French sophists of trines in the dress of the sweetest and most seductive language, and had introduced it, by this means, into the brilliant saloons of fashion, and even the boudoirs of the ladies. Hume, in like manner, had disguised his still more fatal, because more subtle, poison, under one of the most chaste, correct, and elegant forms that the English language has ever assumed. Even Darwin, and the other writers of the British materialist school of vibrations and vibratiuncles, the most pitiful and contemptible, perhaps, that has yet appeared in the philosophical world, tricked themselves out in a gaudy and fantastic sort of mas

querade habit, which was singularly enough mistaken at the time for something highly graceful and attractive. Paley, a dignitary of the church, had lent the charm of a lucid and pleasing exposition, as well as the authority of his calling and the cloak of religion, to a system of absolute selfishness. In the meantime, the better opinions, if advanced at all, had been maintained in a dry and heartless manner, in treatises for the most part devoid alike of depth and elegance. Under these circumstances we regard it as a singularly fortunate thing that a writer should have appeared, who, adopting a system of intellectual and moral philosophy in the main ju licious, free from danger even in its errors, and inspired by a uniformly pure, amiable, and 1 elevated moral feeling, should have been able at the same time to interest the world, and give his notious a general popularity by the beauty of his language. The works of such a writer were absolutely necessary to prepare the way for that complete reformation of the theory of moral science which is so much needed. They want, it is true, the strong originality of thought, the vigorous correctness of reasoning, the nervous precision of language, which would be required for effecting this great object, but they possess the qualities that were proper for bringing about a favourable change in the state of public sentiment on these momentous subjects. They are like the voice of one crying in the wilderness; they prepare the way for the coming of a still greater teacher, and collect an audience previously well disposed to listen to, and profit by, his instructions. At the same time, by creating a general feeling in favour of the science, and thus leading many persons to study it with correct prepossessions, they tend to produce the reformer, whose success they prepare and facilitate. Such are the great services which the writings of Stewart have rendered, and are rendering, to the cause of truth and virtue. They are sufficient to entitle hin forever to the respect and gratitude of all good men."

H

This Number also contains a paper on the character of Joseph II. of Austria, which we consider the most philosophical and eloquent appreciation of that monarch's character we have met with.

An essay on the Mexican revolution, and another on "the Tone of British Criticism," complete the contents of the Number. The former is an article which will richly repay the labour of perusing it, but to which we should be doing injustice did we attempt to pare it down, so as to render it fit for appearing in our columns. To the other we have a few words to say..

The reviewer has here lost his temper, and, in his wrath, he has allowed himself to magnify the delinquencies of a few scribblers into a token of national jealousy. We deny most unhesitatingly that articles in half-a-dozen reviews and newspapers are to be taken as expressing the sentiments of Great Britain.

The geese

cackled loudest when the Gauls attempted to scale the Capitol, but the geese, though they happened to be on the right side, were not the representatives of Ro man feeling. We deny, moreover, that there exists any such jealousy on the part of the British public. We may laugh occasionally at some peculiarities of Transatlantic growth; but is that a proof of hatred? Look to France at this moment; how eagerly does it hearken after Britain's expression of approbation! And shall we, with such demonstration to the contrary, believe that France is jealous of us, because we see caricatures of some of our home-bred fools exposed in the Parisian printshops? Lastly, we deny that there is any the least cause for jealousy. America is capable of becoming more than we can conceive; but the great mass of the people are conscious only of the present, and are not easily stirred by contingencies. Again, free America, all-powerful though she be, is like Bramah in the state of contemplation, her energies cannot be directed outwards. able any portion of her to act aggressively, (and it is only of a power likely to become hostile that nations are jealous,) she must be split down into smaller states, and these must be organised after a different manner. Situated as we now are, our little cock-boat would sail round her huge hulk before she could set her sails. We repeat it, there is no jealousy or ill-will harboured by the Bri

To en

tish public towards America, and the complaints of the. reviewer, had they been made in a calmer mood, would have convinced us he harboured the very feelings he was imputing to others.

In his selection of instances of this jealousy, the reviewer has been rather unhappy. He condescends only upon the paper in the Edinburgh on Dr Channing's works, and a late article in the Scotsman newspaper. The former, we agree with him, evinces a paltry and contemptible spirit. We said so at the time it appeared, and we say so again. We will go farther, and say that the tone assumed by the Edinburgh Review towards America has been uniformly shuffling and disreputable. But the paper in the Scotsman is neither an attack upon America, nor composed in a spirit of covert ill-will towards that country. American Review, and that solely because it does not conOn the contrary, it is an attack upon the North, ceive it sufficiently imbued with American characteris-, tics. The North American Review knows as well as we do that it speaks the sentiments only of a portion of the. American public. The Scotsman merely says that he prefers the sentiments and principles of their opponents. On this point we confess that our judgment is decidedly in favour of the Review, and opposed to that of the, respectable newspaper we are speaking of; but this is no reason why the Scotsman should not speak his mind freely, still less is it a reason why his having declared himself more favourable to that portion of the American public, whose opinions agree with his own, should be

travestied into an avowal that he hates the nation.

After thus expostulating with the reviewer, we must do him the justice to say, that even in his anger he remembers his English descent, and seeks not to tear asunder the holy bands of brotherhood that must ever bind the two nations together. We confess, too, that it is always better that grievances should be loudly, even intemperately, stated, than that they should be allowed to rankle in silence. Freemen dare to expostulate openly and angrily; the slave holds his tongue, and has recourse to the knife. We trust that the North American Review, having given vent to its spleen, will proceed in its great labour of pointing out merit, and exposing pretence, without reference to the one or the other side of the Atlantic., We feel proudly conscious that none of its remarks apply to us-we have always spoken of America as it deserves-and, in our own sphere, shall be happy to do so again.

lent.

De L'Orme. By the author of "Richelieu" and "Darnley." 3 vols. London. Colburn and Bentley. 1830. THIS is an historical romance of very considerable taThe author, Mr James, has already distinguished himself as a writer of fiction, and the present work will not diminish the reputation he has gained. In these times, when books of fiction are remarkable chiefly for their childish insipidity, it is enlivening to encounter a mind of some individuality of character-some acquaintance with the phases of nature and humanity which are described. As to the propriety of investing history with a fictitious glitter, and mixing it up with actions and characters purely imaginary, it is needless now to speak, for Shakspeare and Scott have both committed the error, if it be one.

What we chiefly have to condemn in De L'Orme, is a seeming carelessness in the arrangement, and a hasty sketchiness of manner, which hurries the reader from scenes and character with so much rapidity that the mind has scarcely time to make any of them its own, or to carry away a lasting impression of any one object presented to it. For this reason, when we rise from the perusal of the three volumes, and begin to analyze the various pic- · tures left upon the memory, we find that they are by no means deeply engraven, though their colouring may have

appeared brilliant for the moment. The desultory style in which the incidents are hurried one upon another, arises partly from the author choosing to make his hero tell his own story. The use of the first person singular implies the necessity of keeping up a constant flow of personal narrative, and allows no time for a proper consideration of the various characters introduced. Thus, the nature and disposition of the heroine, a person commonly of no small importance in novel and romance, are involved in sad obscurity. We meet with her now and

handsome man in all the world, who, moreover, had the ad-
vantage of being this young lady's confessor, so that they met
regularly once a week; for she took good care not to let her
sins get stale, and had them all off her conscience every Sa-
turday morning. How the business went on I cannot take
upon me to say, but the Devil always got behind the young
priest when he was reading his breviary, and whenever he
looked at the picture of the Virgin Mary, Satan slipped it
out of the book, and in he put that of the young lady, so
that there was fine work for the young priest's fancy.
"If it is not true, every word of it, may this be the last

then indeed, but it is only in imperfect glimpses, when draught I ever shall drink!' and he replenished his cup and

drained it as before.

"Well, as I was saying,' continued the Capuchin, ‘one morning, early, the priest went out to take a walk on the high hill behind the town, and he was just looking out pensively over the valley to another hill beyond, when he saw, tripping up the path before him, the young lady, his penitent, holding up her petticoat, not to show her ankle, but to keep the hem out of the dust. The young priest looked at her piously, so piously, indeed, that he did not see the Devil slip out from a bush close by, and niche him up behind an old stone cross that stood thereabout. However, the young lady came up, and made the young priest a low curtsey, with a very dismal face. He could not do less than ask what was the matter with her, to which she replied that sin. So then the young priest got into a very great flutter. she was very much afraid she had committed a very great Heaven knows what sin he fancied she had committed, but being very anxious to hear all about it, he said to her, Well, I have half an hour to spare, and if you think you cannot get on till Saturday, I will confess you now. This place is all convenient. So it is,' said the young lady, ◄ and nobody can see us.' So down they sat on the stone at the foot of the cross, and she put her mouth to his ear, and be cause the stone was not large enough for both of them to sit conveniently, he slipped his arm round her waist, just to keep her on.

If it is not as true as holy writ, may this be the last drop I shall drink in my life!' and he applied himself vigorously again to the good wine of Cahors.

we are made to understand that she is amiable and pretty, and exceedingly in love with the hero. But this is by no means enough; the reader enters not into the warm feelings of the lover; his perception, of course, extends only as far as the author has developed her character; he sees nothing more in Helen than he has himself seen in casual meetings with many girls whose individual images passed from his memory without the slightest regret. For the lady in the Episode of Saragossa, our feelings are far more interested than they ever are for the heroine; and yet, in the language of painters, the one ought to have been only the middle distance to the foreground of the other. But Mr James likes not the calm and beautiful; he cannot dwell upon it, and describe its points of minute loveliness his strength lies in action, in the terrible conflicts of the elements, and in the unnatural struggles of human nature. The description of the murderess is artfully managed; we cannot help feeling for her, almost admiring her, though her victim lies bleeding before us. Helen, on the other hand, never appears in any situation of a particularly trying nature. She is decidedly a sweet girl, but her sweetness is that of the milk of a cocoa-nut. It is not our intention to analyze the story, as, from its rambling and desultory nature, it would be very difficult to do so. The scene lies in France and Spain, during the "Oh, Father Philip,' said the young lady, I am afraid reigns of Louis the Thirteenth, and Philip the Fourth. It is the history of himself by an old man, from his earliest I have committed a great sin, an abominable sin. Pish! cried Father Philip. A very abominable sin! repeated. recollections, when, with a bounding step, he hunted the she. 'Out with it, daughter!' said the priest. I have izzard on his paternal mountains, down to the period fallen in love! replied the young lady. The devil you when age is carrying him back to a second childhood. have!' cried Father Philip. Don't interrupt her,' whis Though naturally of an ardent and enterprising disposi-pered the Devil from behind. I have fallen in love-with tion, his youth glides on in comparative quiet. When a priest!' cried she, making a violent exertion. Oh! oh!" about nineteen, however, owing to an angry encounter said Father Philip. Oh! oh!' said the Devil from behind; with a nobleman of great influence and power, the Mar- but, just at that moment, plump! down comes St Denis, and taps the Devil on the shoulder, saying, Hallo! Satan, what quis de Saint Brie, he thinks it prudent to leave his counare you about here?- Mind your own business, Denis,' try, and pay a short visit to Spain. On his way thither, answered the Devil, and leave me alone to mind mine." he encounters at an inn a soi-disant Capuchin, who re- 'Come, don't be insolent,' replied the Saint; but you shall lates the following tale, which, as it is complete in itself, not make two very good people two very bad ones, while I am and also almost the only specimen of humour in the book, in the land of the living;-so budge! I'll be dd if I we take the liberty of transcribing : do,' said Satan. You don't treat me like a gentleman, Maitre Denis, and you know that I am better than you are, both by birth and education. You foul-mouthed thief!' cried the Saint; say that again if you dare!— What then?' cried the Devil: I do say it again! Now!' and he set his arms a-kimbo, and stuck out his under-jaw in the Saint's face. But St Denis lost all patience, and seizing him by the arm, and giving a turn round as quick as light, set his foot just under his tail, and, with one kick, sent him over the valley, to the hill on the other side.

THE CAPUCHIN'S TALE.

"Now, I pray you, mark me, gentlemen,' said the Capuchin, and remember, my story is true. If there be one word of falsehood in it, may this be the last drop I ever shall drink in my life!' and thereupon he filled his cup, and emptied it to the dregs, with a neat, clear, selfconfident toss, calculated to impress one with the idea of his own belief in the veracity of his tale.

"Once upon a time, in a certain town of Normandy, which shall be nameless,-there's no use naming towns any more than persons, especially when the Devil has had any thing to do with either; but in this town, which I allude to, there lived a young lady, as good as young ladies generally are, and a great deal handsomer. She had the prettiest foot in the world, and the prettiest ankle, and the prettiest mouth, and the prettiest person altogether, so that every body was in love with her, high and low, rich and poor; and the whole town made her an offer. Nevertheless, whether it was prudery, or coquetry, or coldness, or what, matters not one sou to my story; but nobody would she marry, telling them all civilly that she did not care a straw for them, and that they might all go back just as they came, and that she should not mind to see them all drowned the next day, as her grandmother drowned her kittens once a-month.

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

"That part of the hill was rather sloppy, and the Devil's hoofs sticking in the mud, annoyed him greatly; so he floundered about in vain to get out, crying out I wish Denis was at the Devil for getting me into this mess!' "Heartily had the Saint laughed to behold Satan fly across the valley like a tennis ball; and seeing him stick on the other side, he took a hop, skip, and a jump, and coming up with him in a minute, he gave him another kick in the same part, which sent him just as far as the first. Thus they went on, from mountain to mountain, the Saint kicking, and the Devil kicked, all through Normandy, till at length the poor Devil got sore, and was fain to cover himself up behind with the palms of his hands, which made him such a ridiculous figure, that the Saint had nearly split his sides with laughing; and a few miles beyond Caen, out of sheer compassion, he mustered up a good kick, and pitched him into the sea. After which, St Denis went back, with the best intention in the world, to see what had become of

1

the priest and the young lady, when he found, to his astonishment, that they had both gone home.'"

And if every word of this story is not true, may this be the last drop I ever drink in my life!' and the Capuchin emptied the flagon."

you

I was thus busily scanning his countenance; and I know
not why, but my glance sunk in the collision.
"Ha!' said he, rather mildly than otherwise,
were gazing at me very strictly, sir. Are you a reader of
countenances?'
"Not in the least, Monseigneur,' replied I; 'I was
but learning a lesson-to know a great man when I see one

another time.'

When once fully afloat upon the world, our hero's life ➡is one of continued bustle and action. He becomes lover, exile, captive, head of a revolution, gambler, diplomatist, general, captive again, and, lastly, husband and father. The cameleon-like ease with which his character varies its hue, stretches or contracts, under all these different fates, is perhaps rather too overdrawn even for a romance; yet there is a splendour and exuberance of fancy about it which almost atones for the improbability. The histori-ding, that the blush rushed up into my cheek, with the

[ocr errors]

E

cal characters of greatest importance with whom De L'Orme comes in contact in the course of his career, and which are well and splendidly dashed off, are the Cardinal Richelieu, Le Conte de Soissons, Bouillon, and De Retz. We select, as the most interesting, a slight sketch of the first named minister—a man equally famed for his great talents and his criminal ambition:

DE L'ORME'S FIRST INTERVIEW WITH RICHELIEU.

"That answer, sir, would make many a courtier's fortune,' said the minister, nor shall it mar yours, though I understand it. Remember, flattery is never lost at a court! 'Tis the same there as with a woman-If it be too thick, she may wipe some of it away, as she does her rouge; but she will take care not to brush off all !'

"To be detected in flattery has something in it so degra burning glow of shame. A slight smile curled the minister's lip. 'Come, sir,' he continued, I am going forth for half an hour, but I may have some questions to ask you; therefore, I will beg you to wait my return. Do not stir from this spot. There you will find food for the mind,' he proceeded, pointing out a small case of books; in other respects, you shall be taken care of. I need not warn you to discretion: You have proved that you possess that quality, and I do not forget it.'

mained struggling with the flood of turbulent thoughts, "Thus speaking, he left me, and for a few minutes I rewhich such an interview pours upon the mind. This, then, was the great and extraordinary Minister, who at that moment held in his hands the fate of half Europethe powers of whose mind, like Niorder, the tempest-god of the ancient Gauls, raised, guided, and enjoyed the winds and the storms, triumphing in the thunders of continual war, and the whirlwinds of political intrigue !"

“Thus saying, he led me into a small hall, and thence into a cabinet beyond, hung with fine tapestry, and lighted by a single silver lamp. Here he bade me sit down, and left me. In a few minutes, a door on the other side of the room opened, and a cavalier entered, dressed in a rich suit of black velvet, with a hat and plume. He was tall, thin, and pale, with a clear bright eye, and fine decided features. His beard was small and pointed, and his face oval, and somewhat sharp; and though there was a slight stoop of his neck and shoulders, as if time or disease had somewhat If our limits permitted we might select other passages enfeebled his frame, yet it took nothing from the dignity of illustrative of the author's style and manner, but the book his demeanour. He started, and seemed surprised at see is in the hands of the public, and will no doubt obtain the ing any one there, but then immediately advanced, and, looking at me for a moment, with a glance which read circulation which its merits deserve. As we have already deeply whatever lines it fell upon, Who are you?' demand-stated, our chief objection is to a want of connexion in ed he: What do you want? What paper is that in your the incidents, and to this we may add, the clumsy method #band?' of winding up every thing at the conclusion. "My name,' replied I, is Louis Count de L'Orme; no reason why, instead of three volumes, there might not my business is with the Cardinal de Richelieu; and this have been twenty written in the same strain, without paper is one which I am charged to deliver into his hand.' fear of injuring the tenor of the tale. "Give it me,' said the stranger, holding out his hand. My eye glanced over his unclerical habiliments, and I replied, You must excuse me. This paper, and the farther news I bring, can only be given to the Cardinal himself.' "It shall go safe,' he answered, in a stern tone. it to me, young sir.'

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors]

Give

"There was an authority in his tone that almost induced me to comply, but reflecting that I might be called to severe account by the uurelenting minister, even for a mere error in judgment, I persisted in my original determination. I must repeat, answered I, that I can give this to no one but his Eminence himself, without an express order from his own hand to do so.'

"Pshaw!' cried he, with something of a smile, and taking up a pen, which lay with some sheets of paper on the table, he dipped it in the ink, and scrawled in a large, bold hand,

"Deliver your packet to the bearer.

"RICHELIEU.

"I made him a low bow, and placed the letter in his hands. He read it, with the quick and intelligent glance of one enabled by long habit to collect and arrange the ideas conveyed to him, with that clear rapidity possessed alone by men of genius. In the meantime, I watched his countenance, seeking to detect amongst all the lines, with which years and thought had channelled it, any expression of the stern, vindictive, despotic passions, which the world charged him withal, and which his own actions sufficiently evinced -it was not there, however; all was calm.

"Suddenly raising his eyes, his look fell full upon me, as

"This story has come down, word for word, to the present times, and it is both told in Britanny and Normandy, where many of the hills, which formed the Devil's halting places, are still shown, and the vaenities over which the Saint is supposed to have kicked him, are, to this day, termed, Les sauts du Diable, or, the Devil's jumps. The person who told this tale to the writer of these pages, repeated it almost literally as above, except that he put the Archangel St Michael in the place of St Denis, and made the Devil's last leap to have been from the famous Mont St Michael This, for obvious reasons, has been altered, though the narrator believed it fully more than the Capuchin."

We see

Travels to the Seat of War in the East, through Russia and
the Crimea, in 1829. With Sketches of the Imperial
Fleet and Army, Personal Adventures, and Character-
istic Anecdotes. By Captain James Edward Alexan-
der, late 16th Lancers. In two volumes, 8vo.
don.
327.

Lon

Colburn and Bentley. 1830. Pp. 308 and

THAT class of human beings, called, by the vulgar, travellers, is daily increasing in number. In former times, the writer on statistics could divide the earth into the stationary and nomadic nations; and the regions inhabited by these two great divisions were so definitely marked out from each other, that no confusion could arise. But now, a new race has sprung up; and we observe, in the heart of the most civilized and oldest nations of Eu rope, a large and influential body of men who possess no settled residence, who are to be found to-day in one country, to-morrow in another, staring about them, and making absurd remarks, talking all languages, but none of them well. They stand forward in avowed idleness, and are every where recognised as a people whose great privilege it is to do nothing. They are to be found, in great numbers, in most countries of Europe, but chiefly in those which have any thing peculiarly striking in their scener y or bistory. Their favourite haunts are,-Italy, which is inundated with them in all quarters; France, especially in the southern provinces, and in Paris; Switzerland; the banks of the Rhine and Vienna; the Lakes in Westmoreland; and the Scotch Highlands. A few picquet departments are generally stationed at Weimar, Berlin, and St Petersburgh. The community has also been throwing out advanced bodies of late years,-feelers, as it

« PreviousContinue »