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this Newgate literature, that to quote beaten when she failed to bring home the best is mere justice. There are money, first in anger, next from motouches of feeling and purity in its tives of policy, as the old wretch pages, though, under the circum- found that the pity of the passers-by, stances, feeling would be a wunder, for the fair child who cried, increased and purity an impossibility, which lead her profits. At last she fled from the us the more to regret that choice of torture, and hid herself in a woodsubject, and carelessness of composi- yard; she was condemned as a vagation, should injure a talent which can bond to remain till the age of sixteen own such a charm. In Rodolph's in a house of correction; and she nightly visits to dark alleys and suspi- thanked her judge for his goodness, cious taverns, he has interfered to for she had food and no blows, and save from a blow a poor abandoned the sun shone in the courtyard; and girl, nicknamed the goualeuse, a word when she had done her task, she sat which, in thief argot, signifies singer ; there and sung. . Her sixteenth birthhe gives a severe lesson, in boxing, to day come—the prison doors openbis adversary, the chourineur-this she finds outside the mistress of the last word stands for assassin ; and the tavern, and her vile companions, who trio proceed in perfect amity to the offer her lodging and gay clothes, Lapin blanc:

if she will go home with them; but " The goualeuse was sixteen years

she has three hundred francs, and she and a half old. The purest forehead

sends them away, resolved, as she says, completed her face of a perfect oval; a to enjoy life ; and buys flowers to fill fringe of long lashes, so long that they her room, and


the summer days turned upward, half shadowed her large in the woods, in company of another blue eyes; the down of early youth softened her rounded and rosy cheek; her

young girl, discharged from prison at

the same time. small red mouth, her thin, straight nose, her dimpled chin, had an adorable charm

While the money lasts, she forgets of contour. On either side her satin tem

to seek for work ; she has given her ples, a plait of pale, beautiful hair de- last forty francs and her mattress to a scended in a half circle to the middle of poor woman lying-in without assistthe cheek, and was raised again behind ance. She is repulsed where she craves the ear, whose ivory tip was just per- employment, because, not to deceive, ceptible beneath the tight folds of a blue- she tells whence she issued two months checked cotton handkerchief, tied, as is before: she walks forth saddened-the said vulgarly, "en marmotte ;' a neck

fine weather has passed away. She is lace of red coral was round her throat of dazzling whiteness and beauty. Her

hungry, and will soon lack shelter ; the gown, of brown bombazeen, much too

old women are on her path once more, wide, allowed to guess at rather than

and she becomes their victim. This see a delicate figure, pliant and round as tale she has told to Rodolph on their a reed; a little worn, orange shawl, first interview ; and Rodolph, deterwith green fringe, was crossed on her mined to rescue her, returns to the bosom. The charm of voice of the Lapin blanc :goualeuse had struck her unknown cham. pion ; in truth, this voice, soft, thrilling, 66 • You are come for your change, no and harmonious, had an attraction so ir

doubt,' said the ogress, (this being, acresistible, that the mob of ruffians and in

cording to Monsieur Sue's researches, famous women, among whom she lived, the very appropriate name given the often begged her to sing, listened to her hostess of such a tavern.) with delight, and called her la goua- “Yes, and I will take the goualeuse leuse.' She had also received another

to pass the day in the country. name, due no doubt to the virginal pu. "Oh, as to that, good fellow, it is rity of her features : she was called out of the question.' • Fleur de Marie,' which in argot signi- • Why so ?' fies virgin."

• • Because she might never come The goualeuse had never known her back; her clothes belong to me; withparents. The first care she recollected out reckoning that, she owes me still was that of a hideous, one-eyed woman,

two hundred and twenty francs, for who made her stand on the Pontneuf,

board and lodging, since I received her

here; and if she were not honest as she with her small tray of sugar-barley, to

is, I would not allow her to go further excite compassion. She had often a

than the corner of the street at most.' glass of cold water for breakfast, and • • The goualeuse owes you two hun, damp straw to sleep on. She was dred and twenty francs ?'

“ • Two hundred and twenty francs, “ • Yes, Monsieur Rodolph, quite in. ten sous; but how does that concern different, so long as it is to the country; you? Would not a body suppose that it is so fine, to the fresh air; it is so you intended to pay ?--play the great pleasant to breathe the fresh air. Do lord, do!'

you know that it is now five months * There,' said Rodolph, throwing

since I went farther than to the flower. eleven louis on the pewter of the ogress's

market; and if the ogress permitted my counter ; and now, what is the worth passing the bounds or the city, it was on of her clothes ?'

account of her great confidence.' “ The old hag examined the louis, one And when you came to this mar, after the other, with an air of doubt and ket, was it to buy flowers ?' distrust.

• Oh, no; I had no money; it was “Do you imagine I have given you to look at them to breathe their sweet bad money ? Send to change the gold, smell, during the half hour the ogress but let us have done. What is your allowed me to stay there on market. charge for the miserable covering you day, I was so happy that I forgot all hire to that poor girl ?

beside.' “The ogress, divided between the “* And when you returned to her desire of a profitable bargain, astonish- to those horrid streetsment at seeing a workman possessed of " Then I was sadder than when I so much money, fear of being duped, set forth : I restrained my tears, not to and hope to gain yet more, was silent be beaten. And in the flower-market, for a moment. At last she said

what made me envious, oh, very envious, “ • Her clothes are worth, at least, a was to see the little, neat work women hundred francs.'

going gaily home, with flower-pots in “ • Rags like those ? pshaw ; you may their hands.' keep the change from yesterday, and I "I am sure that if you had but some will give you another louis, no more. flowers on your window-sill, they would To allow myself to be fleeced by you, is be company to you.' to rob the poor.'

". That is true, indeed, Monsieur Ro. “ • Very well, friend; I will keep my dolph. One day the ogress, at her fête, clothes; the goualeuse shall not stir knowing my taste, gave me a little rosefrom this; I am free to set on my pro- tree; if you could but guess how happy perty what price I please.'

I was-I felt weariness no longer. I May Lucifer treat you one day ac- did nothing but gaze at the rose-tree; I cording to your merits! there is the amused myself with counting its leaves money, go fetch the goualeuse.'

and blossoms; but the air of the city is The poor girl descends, and they had commenced to turn yellow, and

80 bad, that at the end of two days it leave the tavern together,

then- but you will laugh at me, Mon" • What is the matter ?' said Ro. sieur Rodolph.' dolph ; *

; 'you seem sad and embarrassed; "* • No, no, go on.' are you sorry to accompany me?'

"Well, then, I asked permission of "Oh, no! quite the contrary; but- the ogress to go out to give my rosebut-you give me your arm

tree air, as I would have given it to a " • Well ?'

child. I carried it to the quay; I thought “ • You are a workman; some one that to be there, with the other flowers, may tell your employer that you have in that fresh sweet air would do it good. been seen with me, and it might injure I bathed its poor fading leaves in the you. Masters do not like misconduct clear water of the fountain ; and to dry in their workmen ;' and the goualeuse them I left it a quarter of an hour in gently disengaged her arm from that of the bright sun-dear little rose-tree. In Rodolph, adding, 'go on, alone ; I will the city it never saw the sun, for it follow you to the Barrier; once in the shines no lower than the roofs in our fields, I will return to your side.'

street: at last, then, I carried it home • Do not be afraid,' said Rodolph, again. Well, I assure you, Monsieur affected by this delicacy, and taking Rodolph, that thanks to these airings, Fleur de Marie's arm within his own my rose-tree lived, perhaps ten whole once more ; 'my employer does not live days longer than it would have done in this quarter; and besides, we shall otherwise.' find a hackney-coach on the Quai aux "I do not doubt that you felt its fleurs.'

loss when it died ?' " • As you please, Monsieur Rodolph ; “. It was a real grief ; I wept for it; I said this only to save you from vexa- and see, Monsieur Rodolph, since you tion,'

can understand a love for Howers, I may “I believe, and thank you, Marie ; tell you I felt something like gratitude but, frankly, is it indifferent to you towards it, because-beeause—but now, where we go ?

I am sure you will laugh at me.'




“No, I will not; I am fond of flowers; I comprehend any folly they

· Well, then, I was grateful to this poor rose-tree, which blossomed brightly for me, although in short-notwithstanding-all that I was---'

" And the goualeuse stooped her head, and blushed deep-red with shame.

“Unhappy child, with this conscious. ness of your horrible position, you must often

"• Have wished to put an end to it, you mean, Monsieur Rodolph,' said the goualeuse, interrupting ber companion ; * oh yes, more than once I have looked down from the parapet on the Seine ; but afterwards I looked back at the flowers and the sun, and I said to myself, the river will always flow there; I am not yet seventeen, who knows what may

". And when you said " who knows?” you had some hope?'

• Yes.'
" " And of what?'

** • I cannot tell; I hoped, in spite of my reason. It seemed to me in these moments, that my fate was undeserved; that there was something good in me. I said, I have been tormented, but at least I never did harm to any one.

If I had been advised, I should not, perhaps, have become what I am ; and this drove away my sadness a little. But, indeed, I should tell you that these thoughts visited me most, after the death of my rose-tree,' added the goualeuse, with a solemn look, which made Rodolph smile.

" • This heavy sorrow still.'

" • Yes, see, here it is,' and she drew from her pocket a small parcel of twigs, carefully cut, and tied with a pink ribband.

" • And you have preserved it ever since ?'

Certainly, it is all I possess in the world!'

“ • How, have you absolutely nothing belonging to you?'

" • Nothing!
“ • This coral necklace ?--'
« • Belongs to the ogress.'

“ “Is it possible you do not possess a frill, a cap, a handkerchief?'

“ • No, nothing, nothing-but the dry boughs of my poor rose-tree; it is for this I cling to it.'

minded creatures, rare under the most favouring circumstances, till she dies at eighteen, an abbess— we do not quarrel with, on thu score of probability; for Monsieur Sue can never have aimed at this quality. His improvement in the penal code, substituting blinding for death, he seeins, himself, to have abandoned. He has not written the pamphlet, promised in a note to the scene wherein Rodolph exercises this same kind of doubtful mercy. In the letter which appears in the “ Debats," as epilogue to the tale, he applauds himself on the adoption of various plans of philanthropy, set forth in the course of these volumes.

We rejoice with him that this should be ; while, for the sake of the weak and ignorant of his own country, whom he may in. jure ; and the enlightened of other countries, whom he may prejudice uyfairly; we believe he would do well to curb his invention, and seek his models elsewhere ; and present any idea or project he may think calculated to serve humanity, without the dangerous framework which surrounds these, thinking, as we do, that the examination of the many will stop there.

We have called the reign of the feuilleton novel, a symptom of decline in that branch of literature. The fa. cilities it affords mediocrity, are an added bar to genius. The stomach, cloyed with unwholesome food, will sicken at delicate viands. It may be objected that an author will not change his nature with his place; yet not only must he fit the feuilleton, he must suit it likewise. There must arise a stir. ring interest, exactly at the close of such a column; and the tale is executed, like a piece of worsted work, by counting stitches; the meeting, or the parting, or the mystery, must not be a fine too high.

We have never heard it asserted that the feuilleton might make a great writer, and it is evident it may mar

As to its criticism, it too much resembles the duel fought in hot blood, on the instant of the offence-therefore so likely to be fatal; and though the serious pages of Philarete Chasles, and the witty ones of the writer who signs “ Old Nick," and others we could name, might render lenient, experience bas proved the use less certain than the abuse.

M. D. H.


Of the rest of the tale, or the mil. lion tales which make the Mystères, we want space to speak. That the goualeuse is discovered to be Rodolph's daughter-and that her delicacy of feeling, uninjured by her former habits of life, she is shown as one of the pure


We have been earnestly and repeat- of (ssory's speech was defective, his edly urged, upon various occasions, to grace undertook to supply the defici. express an opinion, or to offer some ency from his own recollections. remarks, on the expediency of reviving In making the requisite emendations, ecclesiastical convocations or of in some it would seem as if the archbishop relied other form “restoring to the church on his memory, and thought it unneher synodical powers." For a length cessary to make any reference to the of time we resisted the importunities learned prelate whose speech he reto take this task upon us, because we ported and replied to. A consequence were unwilling to afford encourage- followed which might have been, ment or countenance to a discussion reasonably, anticipated. The Bishop which we thought inconvenient and of Ossory felt constrained, by the unseasonable. Our scruples are now publication of a report not sufficiently removed ; the controversy which we exact, to re-state, in his own name, dreaded is already opened ; and the the substance of what was really his station, qualities, and abilities of the speech in the House of Lords, and to parties who have engaged in it, give add some comments on the reply made assurance that it will not be closed by the Archbishop of Dublin to his until the subject has had an ample supposed argument. discussion. This altered state of The prayer of the petition which things demands a corresponding change gave occasion to the parliamentary on our parts ; rendering it a duty from discussion, and thus, indirectly, to the which we cannot claim exemption, to controversy which has succeeded it, is lay before our readers arguments ad. as follows:vanced with the authority of high names, and requiring of us no longer “ Your petitioners, therefore, humbly to withhold expression froin our own pray that your lordships will be pleased less authoritative convictions.

to consider what measures should be In the last session of parliament his adopted for securing the efficiency of Grace the Lord Archbishop of Dublin

this church, so as the better to enable presented, in the House of Lords, a

her, in the existing circumstances of the petition from certain members of the

country, to carry forward the great Church of England and Ireland, the

objects of her original institution. prayer of which was recommended by his grace and by the Lord Bishop of

The main object of the petition is, Salisbury; while it would appear that perhaps, best described in the followanother distinguished prelate, the Lord ing passage :Bishop of Ossory, offered a qualified opposition to it. The debate or dis

“ Your petitioners are sincerely atcussion which took place on this occa

tached to the existing constitution of the

church of which they are members, and sion, the Archbishop of Dublin thought it advisable to reprint, in an appendix

are not making application for any spe

cific changes, but for the establishment to his charge to the Dublin clergy, de- of an ecclesiastical government, which livered in last June. And, inasmuch shall have authority to determine what as the published report of the Bishop is, and what is not, binding on the mem

* A Charge to the Clergy of Dublin and Glandelagh, delivered in St. Patrick's Cathedral, June, 1843. By Richard Whately, D.D., Archbishop of Dublin. To which is appended a Petition to the House of Lords, praying for å Church Government, together with the Report of the Debate on its presentation, and some additional remarks. London: Fellowes, 1843.

The Expediency of Restoring at this time to the Church her Synodical Powers, considered, in Remarks upon The Appendix to the late Charge of his Grace the Archbishop of Dublin. By James Thomas O'Brien, D.D., Bishop of Ossory, Leighlin, and Ferns. London: Seeley and Co. 1843.



bers of this church, and to pronounce discharge of her sacred duties; and it respecting any changes which individuals is assumed, that “ for the attainment may have introduced, or may propose to of this, there is required the establishhave introduced.”

ment of some deliberatire ecclesiastical

The The ecclesiastical government con

body, having authority,&c.

convocation is fallen into desuetude ; templated is to have authority for de

the houses of parliament, as now contermining “what is and what is not

stituted, it is aftirmed, are peculiarly binding on the members of the church ;” and is also to pronounce

unfit to legislate for the church ; and

in this difficulty, one house of parrespecting changes contemplated, as

liament is prayed to consider what well as changes already introduced whether in doctrine, discipline, or

measures should be adopted for ren

dering the agency of the church more worship, or in all three, is not directly

efficient. In addressing a body pecu. stated.

liarly unfit to legislate for the church, The argument advanced in the pe

and indeed unwilling to do so, it tition for the erection and establish

would be, perhaps, desirable that the ment of this high authority, the peti

petitioners had been more definite in tioners have thus stated :

their prayer, and had proposed mea“ That the Church of England and

which they desired to Ireland, viewed as an important part of

adopted, rather than tasked an inthe church of Christ, ought, as such, to

competent and unwilling body with

The enjoy the privilege permitted to other the labour of devising them. churches and religious bodies, of pos

petitioners are not of our opinion. sessing 'within herself,' such a power of They declare that "recent changes in regulation in her distinctly spiritual the constitution of the houses of paraffairs, as may best promote the due dis. liament have given rise to a peculiar charge of the sacred duties required of unfitness, and indeed unwillingness, her ministers, and provide for the reli

on their part, to be called on to exergious discipline of her own members.

cise authority in behalf of the church," “ That, for the attainment of this, there is required the establishment of

and then pray that a parliament thus some deliberative ecclesiastical body,

incapacitated and indisposed would be having authority to frame regulations, pleased to “consider what measures and to decide in questions of doubt and

should be adopted for securing the difficulty, respecting all such matters. efficiency of the church.” Could this

“ That The ConvoCATION,' sup. prayer be indulged without an exercise posing it adapted, not only to former of authority ? Perhaps,—but, how, times, but to all times, is fallen into

ever the question be answered, we desuetude; and that neither to revive

should have thought that the peti. that, nor to make any provision for sup

tioners, had they waited until they plying its place, is clearly at variance with the design of our reformers.

knew what they wanted, and thus enThat the two houses of parliament

abled themselves to propose a scheme were not originally designed, and were for adoption by the parliament, would never considered as adapted, to be the have acted with more wisdom and sole legislative authority for the church, consistency than they did when they in spiritual' matters; and, that if they told the House of Lords, that it had ever had been so adapted, the recent neither the power nor the will to lechanges in the constitution of those

gislate in behalf of the church, and houses, admitting, without distinction,

described themselves as, therefore desito seats in the legislature, those who

rous that it should construct the sysmay, or may not be members of this church, have given rise to a peculiar

tem, or devise the measures by which unfitness, and indeed unwillingness on

ecclesiastical affairs should be thencetheir part, to be called on to exercise forth ordered throughout the empire. this authority in behalf of this church.” We should have thought that a petition

concluding with such a prayer would The Church of England and Ire- have been more appropriately adland, as a branch of the church of dressed to the throne, where the inChrist, it is here affirmed, ought to terests of the church have a possess, within herself, such a power friend and protector,-one who has of regulation in her distinctly spiritual contracted no obligation incompatible affairs, as may best promote the due with the duties of this sacred guar.


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