may

a good general outline of the Mohammedan customs and opinions.

It is pleasing to contrast the author's modest preface, with the outrageous puffing of his publisher: we regret sincerely, that such a man as Mr. James should be subjected to the process of offensive daubing, which is so much the fashion in New Bur

lington Street. He must himself he disgusted at beholding this trifle described in terms, which might have suited 'Darnley' or 'Richelieu,' but which, applied to a collection of tales for youth, are equally ridiculous and disgust-, ing.

The Bird of the Beeches in Four Cantos. London: Smith, Elder & Co.

No man in his sleep could have poured out so many coherent and connected lines as are

and their claims disregarded, by huffing generals clothed in a little brief authority: "I am directed to acknowledge the receipt of the very improper letter which accompanied

your report.

"The distinguished command for which you were selected by the commander-in-chief, and the sentiments he has so publicly and recently expressed on that occasion, sufficiently mark what was his sense of your military merit; and it is with regret that he now finds himself compelled to blame a total want of discretion and respect in an officer of your high rank and length of service, in terms so opposite to those in which he was lately so happy to applaud your gallantry, humanity, and zeal.

"Lieutenant-General Harris is persuaded that an officer who thinks himself authorized to remonstrate with his immediate superior, can never be usefully employed in the army he communds. Should you, therefore, continue to hold sentiments so opposite to the principles of military subordination, you have his permission to proceed by the first safe conveyance to Fort St. George.

"The commander-in-chief will certainly forward to his Royal Highness the Duke of York, copies of your letter and his reply.I have the honour to be, Sir, Your very obedient servant, (Signed) P. A. AGNEW,

"Mil. Sec. to the Commander-in-chief." From the Mysore, we make a start to the great desert of Upper Egypt, over which it was the destiny of Baird to march, when he moved to attack the relict of Napoleon's fine ariny. We seemed to be reading a page ont of Bruce, when we came to the judicious precautions taken for crossing those burning deserts. The picture of the march is given by the Count de Noé, who served under Col. Beresford, who was joined with Baird in the expedition.

"At four o'clock in the afternoon,' he tells us in his narrative, we began to move from Kosseir; and at two o'clock on the following morning arrived at the first springs, sixteen miles from that place. During the whole of this dreary progress, not the smallest trace of vegetation was visible. It was only when we reached the station where the springs were, that we saw a few straggling stumps of a plant, the leaves of which were round, and highly aromatic, resembling in appearance pieces of grey velvet. The water, without being exactly good,' says the count, 6 was better than that which we had left at Kosseir. We established ourselves in the valley, and rested ourselves under a steep and rugged rock, at the foot of which the springs were situated.

"Some of our rear-guard who had straggled,

spare, and sent them forward, notwithstanding that our own stock was by no means abundant. The springs were nearly dry, and we were obliged frequently to wait till nature replenished them. In the midst of the suffocating heat, only two bottles and a half of water per man, per diem, could be spared. But our comrades at Moilah were in absolute want, and we did not pause for a moment to calculate the probability of any distress which might arise to ourselves, but gave them all we could spare. Amongst the expedients which it occurred to me to try in order if not to quench, at least to allay my thirst, was that of carrying a small pebble in my mouth, which kept my tongue moist, and very materially alleviated the distress of the march."

We could find many passages recording the retreat of Sir John Moore, worthy of extracting, and many letters complaining of the undue preference shown to officers of lower rank, worthy the serious consideration of all those who may desire to serve their country; but we must take leave of our author, and we do so, with the hope that when we meet again, he may have retained all his candour, and hearty dislike of favouritism.

The String of Pearls. By the Author of 'Darnley.' London: Bentley.

THESE volumes will not increase the merited fane of the writer; nor will they, on the other hand, take a leaf from his well-earned laurels.

They were manifestly written when his mind was as yet immature, and ere his powers had not learned the obedience due to judgwere fully concentrated; when imagination ment, nor the creative power of fiction acquired a knowledge of all the homage due to truth. The tales are a direct imitation of the Arabian Nights Entertainments, written with something of the wild and almost extravagant spirit of the Orientals, but too frequently deficient in that truth of colouring and costume, which render the tales of the Princess Scheherazade so truly delightful. The work is interesting, as an example of the first flights by which genius tries its strength of wing, and there are many passages from which the triumphs of the author's subsequent course might have been predicted; but it is not a work that would bear criticism. It is well adapted for a Christmas present to young persons; for though there are some inaccuracies in the description of eastern manners, yet, on the whole, the volumes convey

such unsober seriousness, or permitted it to no man perfectly awake could have penned pass through the press. How are we to understand such passages as the following?

So, from traditionary lore,
Sings, or corrupts hearsays before,
A minstrel, or, in palmer's weed,
One not unused to thought and deed.
Nor did the racing shadows pass
Of clouds, the moon flung on the grass,
More swiftly, than the flitting crew
Of fancies print his forehead's bue;
You might have guessed him by his mien
Some less than forty summers seen;
Yet his looks died the staining seal
Of knowledge's forbidden peel;
And his smile's flower like tracery caught
The melancholy tinge of thought.
Existence he had drunk, till all
The wine was lees, the lees were gall,
And, ambushed in a garb of peace,
Lay coiled a heart but ill at ease;
Yet little of the snake it knew,
Prone to be undone, not undo;
Or, if the fangs unsheathed by stealth,
Drew all the venom to its health.
His soul not sole on books had pored;
An action fitted to the word,

Showed music sometimes swelled from mildest;
At once the gentlest and the wildest-
His forehead arched, with few hairs decked,
Hot blood and fiery intellect;

Not tall, yet with his soul's strength, grew,
Wider and statelier to view,

Or eye's flame tricked, when flashed his hate,
Or tight'ning muscles raised his gait,
Such, in the volume of the look,
Read, who read margins, not the book,
Him ciphered clear by Him who writ
Soul's hieroglyphic manuscript;
Yet, though plain language spoke his eyes,
His costume savoured of disguise;
Beneath the pilgrim's grey weeds glance
Reflections, like a steely lance,
Bright knots that tied his iron thigh
Caught ever and anon the eye,
As loosely to the cittern bent,
Unkenning none, yet by one kent,
He flung his feelings from the heart,
Forgetting the dramatic part.

We think the account of the wolf's attempt to destroy the cat, the heroine, quite a masterpiece in its way :

Hark! flies being's delicious state-
'Tis Satan marring God's create-
A monster, foe to joy and sleep,
The Kouli-khan of trembling sheep,
The wolfish progeny of hell,

Bursts from the wood with howling yell;
Long had he scourged the shepherds rude,
Too strong for weakness; force, too shrewd;
Each night, the ruthless fiend's success,
Each day attested his address;
In vain they arm, by trick out-rused;
It vain they watch, to watching used;
Fame's babbling tongue his blazon howled,
The vilest wolf that ever prowled.

And now to Cara's favourite seat
The skulking felon steals his feet;
O'er-reach leers in his twinkle sly-
O, how I hate a cunning eye!
But, villain, dost thou estimate
The price of this unvalued meat?
The fairest morsel of the world
Down thy profanest gullet hurled?

Or art thou, by the tempter driven,
To gulp the epitome of heaven?
And, thy gaunt ugliness to balk,
Beauty's grim sepulchre to stalk?
Hold, hold, thy Tarquin steps, nor dare
O'er chastity's sweet treasure glare;
Nor swallow Dian's living fane,
To buy eternity of shame.

Perhaps our readers are already cloyed with these poetic viands: from dull and from commonplace verse-the curse of the agewe have prayed oft to be delivered: the Bird of the Beeches' is neither dull nor commonplace; yet it is of a kind we cannot commend.

The Lives and Exploits of Banditti and Robbers in all parts of the World. By C. Mac Farlane, Esq. London: Bull. THE life of a robber-chief, when told in sober seriousness, is a loathsome detail of crime, cruelty, and bloodshed. The poet or the narrator may throw over it the splendid robe of romance; associate his hero with all that is beautiful or sublime in nature-with feeling and generosity-with joyous revelry and wild liberty-but, in truth, the heart of such a man is closed to all gentle influence; the mountain and the valley, and all the beauties of nature, in which innocence delights, are to him but as the lair to the wild beast-he is everywhere, and in all countries, a poor skulking coward-shunned by, and shunning his fellow men-feared by, and fearing his very companions in crime; and the most celebrated of banditti have turned out, on near examination, to be low and vulgar ruffians, distinguished only from the common herd by their greater atrocities and crimes. Still, we admit, that such works have been popular they are exciting to the dull appetite of the commonalty—a sort of intellectual dram :whether we are wiser in our generation than our forefathers, remains to be proved.

We enter this, our critical protest, as becomes us; but we suspect it will go for nothing, after reading Mr. Mac Farlane's pleasant preface, which is a delightful piece of sobered enthusiasm, and about as perfect an Italian picture as we have looked on, since we cast an eye over the vast extent of the Pontine Marshes, from the gates of Terracina, the stronghold of the Italian brigands, and saw the tamed ruffians sunning themselves in idleness under its walls. To all, indeed, who have any relish for this sort of reading, Mr. Mac Farlane's book will be acceptable: we must honestly acknowledge, that he not unfrequently witched us with his narratives he has, in truth, done more with his subject than we thought it admitted of; and if we had not both important works and important papers to fill up our columns this week, we might have given a few extracts.

artists and burgomasters look equal to the founding of academies and the establishment of empires; and the splendid file of nobles and warriors whom he painted during the days of Charles the First seem to have been extinguished in the great civil war, for our painters can

seldom find such heads to limn in these later days.*** The true way to estimate the great merit of Vandyke is to take up Clarendon, and while we read the historian's characters of the chiefs of his time, compare them with the heads of the painter; there is a singular resemblance between them, which shows that the artist had something more than outward shape in his mind when he painted portraits.

"It was the aim of that great master to paint more than what he saw-to represent the qualities of mind; moreover he considered it necessary to tamper with living forms; he looked on them with a scientific eye; he lessened without hurting the character of a large mouth or nose; he refused to perpetuate what he considered the excesses of nature, and sought to preserve individual likeness, while he brought it closer to the rules of science. Had the heads of Vandyke been confronted with the living originals, the compasses of mechanical criticism might have shown them incorrect as to exact quantity, while true judgment would have felt the truth and force of the mental expression. Many artists will consider these remarks as flat heresy; they are true nevertheless; and the finest heads in modern painting and sculpture are executed on these principles."

Equally excellent is the criticism upon
Wilson.

"Wilson was none of the literal copyists of nature who, unless it please the earth, sea, and air, to unite into one splendid landscape, and appear before them really and truly, have no chance of ever being heard of. He was one of the most poetic painters of inanimate things that ever lived; he had the rare faculty of extracting whatever was lovely or grand from the aspect of nature, of uniting the beautiful of what he saw with the beautiful of what he imagined, and forming the whole into one magnificent picture, in which all that was fair on earth was

blended with all that was sublime in heaven. Nothing was to Wilson so depressing as a common scene, nothing so elevating as a poetic one; in this he resembled our greatest poets. A landscape of his reminds us, as much as the harmony

of colours can, of the scenes in the Seasons of Thomson; all with him was poetic, he admitted nothing amusing or ordinary upon his canvas. He went out to the valleys and to the mountains, not so much to look at them as to hold conversation with them; with him romantic glens lived, picturesque hills breathed, haunted rivers edged with sunshine, or touched with lightning, spoke, and the assembled clouds of heaven mind and communicated supernatural brilliancy were as something spiritual which exalted his to his fancy. Yet if he is never wholly on the earth, he is never altogether in the clouds; his most fanciful scenes are linked to our feelings by a thousand ties of nature, poetry or history charged with their burthens, figures of angry gods are seen dimly in them discharging arrows at the sinning sons of men; if the scene threatens a barren magnificence, he brings it back to our sympathy by the shepherd hurrying his flock over it, or by the figure of some traveller bewildered in the splendour of hills heaped upon hills, and Alps on Alps; or, if he chooses to depict some quiet and lonely lake, with the heron on its winding margin, and the shadows

real or fabulous. If his clouds seem ever over

of lambs on its bosom, he connects it with sterner times by the rough outline of some castle or keep, standing like a sentinel by the silent water, or with some now neglected temple for

worship, where gods of wood or stone had niches and altars.

"Of the latter kind of landscape the scene attached to these pages is an example; the quiet poetic beauty which Wilson occasionally loved is there: there are cattle on shore, anglers

watching with their rods, water-lilies lying white on the lake, while overlooking the whole a dark peaked mountain, with a ruined fortress at its base, connects history with natural grandeur. To interrupt the long extent of mountain, and give life to the slumbering lake, the painter has dashed in a bold abrupt headland, rough with rocks, fringed to the water's edge with trees and shrubs, and crowned with an ivied ruin, evidently the reliques of a feudal tower, which in times of strife and commotion afforded shelter and protection to the lords of the land. There are few of Wilson's landscapes without water, he had a sort of island love for the element, and no one has painted it with more truth and beauty. Indeed, he would have backed a waterfall against a king's coronation at any time; he loved whatever was immutable and undying.

"The bright unchanging glory of the eternal hills he reckoned as something worth living for, while men were but dust in the balance. It was this enthusiastic feeling which enabled him to triumph in the race of future, not immediate fame, over all opponents."

Such a number as this ought to introduce the work into every drawing-room, and thus secure to Mr. Major that reward which his increased exertions so well merit.

We resume our translations from this pleasant volume. Having been elected member of the Société des Antiquaires, M. Depping was in the habit of seeing at its meetings some of the most celebrated literary characters of the day; and the following is a sketch of M. Dulaure, the author of the well-known Histoire de Paris.'

“M. Dulaure had examined more profoundly into the manners of the French during the middle ages, than any other historian. Before the Revolution, he was a priest at Auvergne, but during that stormy time, he left his obscurity and his priestly office together, entered the marriage state, and was called to the National Convention. There he voted for the death of Louis XVI. Soon after, he became editor or principal contributor to a daily paper, conducted rate by the party of furious demagogues, he with great spirit; but being thought too modethen withdrew altogether from public life, and was obliged to take refuge in Switzerland. He occupied himself with researches into the his tory of the middle ages. He was an accomplished critic, and thoroughly versed in the history of France. The crimes of kings, the occupied his attention, and he could relate all nobility, and the priesthood, had particularly sorts of anecdotes respecting them,-as, indeed, his History of Paris testifies. In his hands the history of France appears in quite a different light from that in which it is represented by former writers, who wrote with the approbation of the censor, and were betitled and bepensioned accordingly. When any one spoke in the Antiquarian Society in the old court style of kings, nobles, and priests, Dulaure would soon set him right, with some overwhelming fact. I never knew any one who had so completely stripped off the prejudices of former years, and who drew so melancholy a picture of

the middle ages. For him those times had no romantic illusions. His History of Paris is written wholly in this spirit; and although he has not always done sufficient justice to human nature, which even in barbarous times displays great virtues, yet, in general, his freedom from all ordinary prejudices, is at once original, and worthy of reflection. Time had made no alteration in his opinions; and in his old age he was as opposed as ever to the privileged classes, and maintained his firm conviction, that in voting for the death of Louis XVI. he had done no more than his duty."

Some one had remarked of M. Depping, in a work of contemporary biography, that his productions alone would fill a library. This was said disparagingly; and the author acknowledges that, many of his school-books, and others, being written on the of the spur moment, he was compelled to wait till new editions were called for, in order to improve them and divest them of the imperfections consequent on hurried composition.

"Fortunate are the writers,' he observes, 'who, like Choiseul-Gouffier,† Madame de Staël, and others, can go leisurely over their writings, and get their friends to examine them, and can refrain from printing until their works have received the last polish. The public makes no allowances for the situation of the writer, but looks only at his works, without taking the trouble to consider how they arrived at their present state-without reflecting whether the author is a man of independent fortune, luxuriating in the midst of an extensive library, and amply provided with all means and appliances, who can finish his works at his leisure, and get his friends to look over them and suggest improvements,-or, whether he is one, whose first care must be to obtain the means of living by the sale of his works, and whose command of books and other needful aids is painfully limited and imperfect. The reading public judges like the audience in the theatre, and decides from what appears upon the scene, not from what is transacted behind it.'"

Now, however, fortune began to favour our author. He had long felt the necessity of occupying himself on some work of greater importance, if he would acquire a lasting reputation in literature, and an opportunity now presented itself. At the commencement of his literary career it had been a favourite project, on which he had long meditated, to write the History of the Settlement of the Normans in France. As soon as he could command the necessary leisure, it was his intention to make himself quite familiar with the style of the Chroniclers, and to write the history of the Normans in imitation of it. In 1820 the Royal Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres proposed a prize essay on the Causes of the Emigration of the Normans, to be drawn up from the records both of the north and south of Europe; and on their Establishment in France. Depping now set to work in good earnest, encouraged also by the advice of many of his friends. Finding that a knowledge of the northern languages was indispensably necessary, in a few months he made himself sufficiently master of the Danish and Swedish, and acquired some knowledge of the Islandic, although the laconic poetry of the latter remained always a mystery to him. Proceeding to the study of authorities, his enthusiasm for his labour increased as he went on.

He

Author of a Voyage Pittoresque dans la Grèce, the last part of which appeared but a few years ago, at an interval of forty years from the publication of the first.

felt that kind of ferment in his mind that | Rousseau experienced, when he formed the resolution of replying to the invitation of the Academy of Dijon, when it proposed a prize essay on the Influence of Literature on

Morals. In this favourable state of enthusiastic excitement he finished his work, and awaited the result of the examination with

corresponding anxiety. The day of the decision drew on. Every hour seemed an age. Shut up in his study, every sound seemed to be the knell of his fate. But how rapturous were his feelings of joy when the prize was announced to be his! A moment of such pure delight he acknowledges never to have experienced before or since, although his work on 'The Commerce of the Levant,' received the same proud distinction.

Depping is, indeed, one of those rare mortals who love literature for its own sake, for its pure and elevating pleasures, its healthful and harmonizing influences. His whole life has been spent among books, and in that moderate enjoyment of society which gives a fresh zest to the solitary labours of the student. We recommend his work as an excellent course of German reading, and as a fund of amusing and pleasant anecdote.

The Invalid's Help to Prayer and Meditation: with Prayers, &c. in Behalf, and on the Loss, of Relatives and Friends. By the Rev. E. P. Hannam, M.A. London: Rivingtons. THERE are certain duties pertaining to the office of religious teachers, which it requires considerable experience and a very sincere piety to perform well. In the early days of the Church, public teaching was never regarded as sufficient to preserve its members in the firm profession of their faith. Much less was it supposed, that outward and ordinary offices could supply the wants of those who were expected to look for their chief strength and consolation from Christian doctrine. To visit the sick and afflicted, was, therefore, one of the obligations of the first pastors of the Church; and we suspect it will invariably be found, that, both in sects and establishments, attention to this obligation is in proportion to the soundness of their constitution. The little work before us is eminently calculated to do good, in helping the inexperienced, and supplying the defects of the careless, in the performance of this duty. Mr. Hannam's treatise, founded on experience and good sense, should be in the hands of every young and conscientious clergyman, when called upon to visit and give counsel to the sick.

OUR LIBRARY TABLE.

FAMILY LIBRARY.- Life of Peter the Great!' In this life of the true founder of Russian greatness, there are many curious anecdotes of his doings as a shipwright, in England and Holland; many pleasant details of his foibles as a man and a monarch; much that is interesting in the narrative of wars with the Swede and the Turk; nor is the account of his contest with the ambition of his clergy, and the prejudices of his people, less instructive than amusing. Perhaps the most racy portion is Dr. Birch's gossiping description of the Tzar's mode of entertaining the ambassadors of foreign states, and his own ministers. First, there was a rough scuffle for seats; secondly, a regular row about the dishes; thirdly, a general contest at the bottle ;-not to speak of the apprehension which the guests entertained of swallowing "eye of newt and toe of frog," or of some well seasoned dish, fit to move all stomachs not accustomed to horseflesh and train oil. There is, however, one se

rious objection to the work-it was not wanted. That, we fear, Mr. Murray will discover, and therefore, we need say no more on the subject. It has besides some faults; the narrative is huddled together too much in one place, and expanded too much in another: some of the dates are wrong, and sundry of the quotations incorrect. The father of Peter is made to die some years before his son was born, in one page, and in another, he comes to life and dies according to history; something too, that was done in 1685, is postponed for a hundred years. The line of Blair

Like angel visits, few and far between, is given to Dr. Young, and the severe one of Pope From Macedonia's madman to the Swede,

is misquoted. Moreover, we think the author is more stern with Charles, and more mild with Peter, than history authorizes. We could have supplied a much better version of the story of General Gordon's introduction to the Tzar, than the text gives. The faults are, however, as nothing compared to the merits of the memoir.

'British Flowering Plants; drawn from Nature, and Engraved under the direction of Mr. William Baxter, A.L.S., F.H.S., &c. Curator of the Oxford Botanic Garden.'-A useful little work, much wanted, and well adapted to giving the learner a clear idea of the characters, upon which the modern genera of plants are constructed. It will also be found serviceable to the student of the natural system of Botany. The plan of the author is to illustrate a single species of every genus of British flowering plants, by a coloured plate containing, along with a characteristic figure of the foliage and flowers, an analysis of such parts of the fructification as are principally employed in distinguishing genera from each other. The letter-press is very satisfactory, the plates are carefully executed, and the whole work reflects credit upon the author.

'The Poetic Negligée, for 1833.'-This is a very pretty book: it is bound in silk, lettered in gold, and printed on coloured paper, and made in all respects, save one, worthy of a lady's hand. It must have been written by a foreigner, who, ignorant of our manners, and with notions of female delicacy not at all English, has filled his volume with verses of questionable purity, both in sentiment and language. We are sorry for this; first, for the author's sake, who will, doubtless, be roughly treated by the critics; and secondly, because there are snatches of poetry scattered about, which show that he lives in the neighbourhood, if not in the company, of the

muse.

"Sunshine; or, Lays for Ladies.'-This little work might have been called Moonshine, with some propriety; it is addressed to those who love the lute and the moonlight; it is full of mirth and agreeable gaiety, with here and there touches of seriousness as well as beauty.

'The Island of the Propontis, and other Poems ; by J. Pinkerton.'-There is some poetry and elegance about the mind which produced these verses; but there is little vigour. There are few pictures, which we have not seen more brightly drawn, and few sentiments which we have not heard more poetically uttered. The mustering together of splendid words, or drawing them up in harmonious array, is the least difficult part of the poet's task: to pour that inspiration into them, which comes from feeling and passion, is the most important part of his duty. We could, however, find passages both to quote and praise in this little volume.

'Historical and Antiquarian Notices of Crosby Hall.' We are indebted to Mr. Carlos, one of the Committee for the preservation of that ancient structure, for this very pleasant account of the building and its founder.

Thinks I, "this gentleman's nae deevil,
Ise hae a chat."

"Kind Sir," quo' I, as smooth's the Franks, "I'm no just steady on my shanks :

O weary fa' the waesome pranks

O' wine an' distance!

Ye's aye be welcome to my thanks,

For yer assistance."

"A kintraman! I ken yer tongue;
Sic was the langwich, braid an' strong,
That Fergusson an' Ramsay sung!

My heart aye yearns

To a' frae gallant Scotia sprung-
My name's Rab Burns!"

Wi' hat in han' I boo'd wi' fear,
That ever glorious name to hear,
An' thocht that frae the eternal sphere
The bard had come

His lowliest worshipper to cheer,
An' I was dumb.

"Scotsman, whae'er ye are," he said,-
An' ance again I boo'd my head,
An' listen'd his commands wi' dread,-
"Whate'er yer station,
Whate'er yer fortin, rank, or tred,
The pen's d-mn-n!
"The diel a yammer-headed chiel,
Wha 'd maybe drive a waggon weel,
Or aiblins turn a spinnin' wheel,
Without much flytin';

But sune as ever he can spell,
Taks on to writin'.

'They think't's a trifle noo-a-days,
To spiel Parnassus stievest braes,
An' mak' Apollo's pipe to wheeze,
Like penny whistle,

An' clutchin' greedily at the bays,
Grab up a thistle!

"Yet some there be wi' wit at will,
Wha sing or play wi' eident skill,
And spread the bonny muse's rill,
Through bow'r and hallan'--
And tapmost on the forkit hill,
Is Elvar Allan.

"To thwart God's plans is surely crime,
But folk ordain'd frae endless time,
The tailor's foot-board bauld to climb,
An' men' auld claes,

Break the decrees and rush in rhyme,

To patch up plays.

"It's just amazin' to remark,
Hoo sune ilk citra-Tweedian spark
Sets up to be a meusefu' clerk,

In lair to dribble,--
Hech, Sirs! it's surely easy wark
To sit and scribble.

"An' sic a routin', rivin' crew!
Wi' Paper, Magazine, Review,
They rin ilk course o' learnin' through,
An' never stammer,

Tales, poetry, it's a' ae do,

Thocht, sense, or grammar; "But chiefly do they tak' delicht To show their burnin', shinin' licht, In makin' darkest subjects bricht,'Twad mak ane sea-sick

To hear their blethers, when they ficht 'Bout meatan'pheesic.†

"Oh, Sir!" the form gaed on to say:
"Forswear the writin' tred for aye;
An whan yer head is auld an' grey,
Ye'll gie me credit,

An' thank me till yer deein' day,
An' mind I said it.

"The baverin', drucken, witless bodies,
Are a' sae manfu' ow'r their toddies,
They come an' cock their pridefu' fuddies
Wi' ostentation,

Till we 're aye forced to tak' the cuddies
Aff to the station."

"Station?" quo' I: "oh, wondrous spirit!
Bricht paragon o' wit and merit!
Shade o' great Rab!"-"I winna bear it-
Hoots! haud your peace, man!"
He said-an' mazed was I to hear it-
"I'm a policeman!"

Nov. 1832.

AUTHENTIC ACCOUNT OF THE DEPOSING OF FERDINAND, KING OF SPAIN, IN 1823.

[TOWARDS the close of 1830, we published some highly-interesting extracts from a manuscript work, under the title of Spain in 1829 and 1830,' which had been brought from that country for publication. Political reasons subsequently induced the parties to abandon their intention, and required that we should not name the writers. The same cause is no longer influential; and we may now state that it was principally written by Mr. Patrick Butler, an Irish gentleman, who had resided many years in Spain; and that Don J. Lopez Quiros contributed the notes, some chapters on the Secret Societies, and the history of the last Cortes. Both parties are since dead. We do not know what has become of the manuscript; but having heard lately that a translation is likely to appear in French, it follows that it is still in existence.Among the many extracts we made at the time, one is the history of the famous sitting of the Cortes, when Ferdinand was deposed. As this deposing forms a ground for special exception in the late act of amnesty,— (the Queen's words are, "that she is obliged, much against her inclination, to exclude from it all who had the misfortune to vote the deposition of the king at Seville," the following authentic information relating to the subject cannot fail to be interesting to the public.]

Early in June (1823), it began to be rumoured at Seville, that the French were advancing towards the Sierra Morena; and it was feared that they would cross the mountains, and penetrate into Andalusia with very little opposition. The Sierra Morena was defended by four thousand infantry, almost all recruits, and by an excellent body of cavalry; but which, under circumstances, could be of little service. The ministry shared the fears of the rest of the liberals; and, on the 4th of June, a board of general officers was called, and their opinion asked, whether it was possible to defend Andalusia, and where the government could retire, in case the French armies penetrated into the province?

+ Qu. Metapheesics.

The generals were unanimously of opinion that it was not possible to prevent the French crossing the Sierra Morena; and that Cadiz was the only place in which the government could be secure against any sudden irruption and attack. On the morning of the 10th of June there was a secret meeting of the Cortes, in which the minister Calatrava read an official letter from Quijana, the political chief of Ciudad Real, which began with the extraordinary acknowledgment, 'We have lost all-even our honour'; and went on to state that the French, taking advantage of the absence of Brigadier-General Plasencia, who had gone with the cavalry to attack the guerrillas of Locho, had dispersed the division of the Sierra Morena, and crossed the mountains. The Cortes separated, desiring the ministers to do their duty; and as the only course that remained was to retire to Cadiz as soon as possible, the ministers so advised the king, informing him of the resolutions of the board of general officers. The king, however, refused to decide on any course until the council of state had been consulted. The members of the council, like every other person in Seville, knew well enough what were the feelings and wishes of the king, and fearful of giving offence, and personally a good deal alarmed, they offered the most extravagant and absurd opinions: some advised a removal to Algeciras, and then to Ceuta; others to Gibraltar; one wanted further information; and Ciscar alone agreed with the ministers in the absolute necessity of retiring to Cadiz. The ministers now went in a body to the king, who informed them that he was resolved not to leave Seville, assigning as a reason the possible danger of getting the yellow fever at Cadiz, if by chance it appeared there, as had sometimes been the case. The ministers urged upon him the absolute necessity of removal; the king, however, was firm; and the ministers retired without having in the least shaken his resolution.

In the meantime the greatest agitation prevailed among the liberals: all the various branches of the secret societies held general meetings that night; and in some of them it was proposed to put the king to death. It was subsequently discovered that these proposals came from persons who were the secret emissaries of the king, which proves that such proposi tions were merely put forward to ascertain the feelings of the liberals on this point. Every where the proposal was rejected;-there were but few influential men who were not of opinion that the putting the king to death would not merely be useless, but positively injurious to their cause; and as the ministers had the prudence not to make known the king's answer, it was resolved, in all the meetings, after very stormy debates, to wait till next day, in the hope that he would be prevailed on to leave Seville.

In the meanwhile, the royalists were not asleep. General Downie, with the canons and friars, who formed the directing junto of the party, met together, and decided on advising the king to leave Seville secretly that night, and go over to the French. There is now little doubt that it would have been easy for him to have done so, and such a proceeding would have been a death-blow to the liberal but the party;

king wanted courage, and dared not move. The junto determined, in consequence, to raise the populace of Seville: Downie was appointed to direct and command, and received a large sum of money to distribute among them. He began short, as will be seen hereafter. to recruit that very night; but his career was

At ten o'clock in the morning of the 11th of June, the members of the Cortes were all assembled, and the minister, Calatrava, reported sitting began, what had passed between the king to them in detail, and in the lobby before the and the ministers the night before. Calatrava

was evidently greatly agitated; and he begged earnestly of the deputies not to expose the ministry, adding, that, seeing they had no chance of shaking the king's resolution, they had tendered their resignations, which he had refused to accept. It was now clear that the ministry dared not take such extraordinary measures as were necessary to compel the king to leave Seville; and that unless the Cortes took the responsibility on themselves, either the French would surprise them there, or, which was more probable, the liberals would break out into open revolt; and as the garrison of Seville was composed of the most enthusiastic of the whole party, they would, in all probability, oblige the king and Cortes together to leave the city at the point of the bayonet, and in the height of confusion and disorder, the consequences of which could not be foreseen. Then it was, and for the first time, that a well-known member proposed to depose the king, and gave notice of his intention to move a resolution on the subject. Others, however, pointed to Galiano to direct this important business of the sitting, and it was immediately agreed to.

It has been repeatedly asserted that the deposition of the king had been previously discussed and agreed to in the meetings of the secret societies; this is not true. The writer of this sketch was at that time president of one of the lodges of Freemasons. It was his duty to attend the Capitulo, or principal lodge, to receive orders; and after a most stormy discussion, he was directed, with several others, to proceed to both the assemblies of the Comuneros, and propose to them to send deputies to a meeting of representatives of the three societies. In this they were not successful, because the constitutional Comuneros had no confidence in the other society; but he never heard one word about deposing the king, though he did a great deal about much more violent measures. Indeed, the members of the Cortes, who belonged to those societies, and attended the meetings, with one only exception, earnestly advised them to wait till the morning; and it is mainly owing to their influence and exertions that Seville did not exhibit on that night a counterpart of the horrors of the French revolution. The idea of temporarily deposing the king, was a natural consequence of the situation in which the Cortes found itself; and the best proof is, that many voted for it who did not belong to the secret societies, and whose only desire was to avoid confusion and bloodshed. All the deputies present at Seville, amounting to 102, attended this important sitting;-of these, forty-five were Exaltados, forty-four belonged to the party of Arguelles, and thirteen were considered as being more royalists than liberals, though they deny it. As soon as the sitting began, Galiano rose, and moved that the Cortes should send for the ministers, to know from them the true state of the country, and the measures they had taken. This was immediately approved, as well as an addition moved by Arguelles, that the sitting should be permanent till the object of the Cortes was accomplished. The ministers attended; but before they began to speak, General Alava rose and said, that as the present debate was of the utmost importance, it would be necessary to enforce most peremptorily the rule which forbad all persons in the galleries from expressing either approbation or disapprobation. This was immediately agreed to, and the president declared his determination to enforce obedience, if the spectators forgot their duty. General Alava's suggestion was, in truth, most opportune, for the galleries were filled with enthusiastic liberals, who had already begun to make their opinions known; but on hearing the president's threat, the greater part immediately retired-for what purpose will hereafter

+ See Athenæum, No. 152.

appear.

From that moment, however, the sit-rison, venting the bitterest complaints against ting was conducted with the greatest dignity the ministers, and even the Cortes. Several of 5 and calmness. them proposed to go in a body to the palace, and compel the king and the royal family to leave Seville forthwith. Fortunately, some of the officers would not sanction the proceeding, without the previous assent of the influential deputies; and they proposed to wait on, and consult with them. As nearly all the militia of Madrid belonged to one or other of the secret societies, and as many of the chiefs of the societies were members of the Cortes, this proposition was agreed to, conditionally that such members only were consulted. Four officers were chosen as delegates, and they went immediately to the hall of the Cortes, where they met with five of the deputies referred to, and communicated their message. The deputies, naturally alarmed at these threatening appearances, earnestly entreated the officers to return to their friends, and assure them, that if the king would not consent to leave Seville, they were resolved to depose him, appoint a regency, and retire from the city on the next day; but that it was absolutely necessary that there should be no appearance of riot or disorder. The orator of the deputation, a very influential officer of the Madrid militia, replied at great length. He urged that it was absolute folly to pretend to observe legal forms in their present situation; and that it would save both time and trouble, to march at once to the palace, stow away the king and his family in the first carriage, cart, or waggon they could find, and proceed direct to Cadiz. He expressed great doubts whether the good deputies (meaning those of his own party) would be able to command a majority, should it be found necessary to depose the king: he announced that it was the anxious wish of all the liberal party to share in the responsibility of the forced removal: he pointed out the personal danger to the deputies, which must follow their proposed proceeding, as the Cortes had resolved that the sitting should be permanent until the king had left Seville; and as the few troops in the place would be obliged to accompany the king, the members of the Cortes must remain in the

Galiano immediately after began by asking the Minister of War the position and strength of the enemy, and the resources he had at command to oppose them. If anything could have made the Cortes pause, it was the answer of the minister, who, in a long speech, endeavoured to prove that there was no possible chance of successfully opposing them. As it was well known that the minister greatly exaggerated the strength of the French army, and much underrated that of the Spaniards, and as he was undoubtedly a most honourable man, and incapable of doing so intentionally, it was thought that he must be mad: and there was soon but too much reason to believe that this was the fact, for he committed suicide a few days after. During the delivery of this speech the deputies manifested the greatest impatience; and Galiano, who had asked the question, was not a little puzzled by the unexpected answer:-however, without any comment, he requested to know, from another of the ministers, what measures had been taken to prevent surprise and the capture of the king. Calatrava replied by stating what has been before mentioned respecting the decision of the board of general officers, and the proceedings of the council; adding, that the ministers had communicated these opinions to the king, who had not yet given any definitive answer. Galiano then moved that a deputation should wait on his majesty, to inform him of the absolute necessity of immediately retiring from Seville, to avoid being captured by the enemy. This motion was agreed to, as well as two others; the one stating the necessity for the removal of all the royal family, and the other that the removal could not be deferred beyond the next day. The members of the deputation were now named; and in answer to the petition of the Cortes, to know when the king would be pleased to receive them, his majesty named four o'clock on that day.

We will now leave the Cortes to see what was doing by other parties. The king was in high spirits, since, by his secret emissaries, he had been informed that the chiefs of the liberals were of opinion that it was their interest not to put him to death; and he was engaged at the palace with a junto, to which General Downie, Colonel Cabañas, and some canons and friars, were admitted, consulting upon those measures which it might be advisable, under circumstances, should be taken. Downie assured the king that it was exceedingly difficult to rouse the mob at that moment, because they were not a little afraid of the National Militia, but he thought it might be done that night; and he and the rest of the junto advised the king to leave the palace, and take shelter in the cathedral, or in one of the convents, so soon as the rising took place. The king, however, did not like the proposal, and he ordered Downie to introduce secretly into the palace, during the night, as many friends as he could collect, to defend his person, if the palace were attacked. It was just when the junto were about to separate, that the king received information of what was passing in the hall of the Cortes, and of the message he was about to receive; and the answer it would be advisable for him to give was then debated and determined on.

city at the mercy of a mob, excited and infuriated by the priests. At last, when he was insisting on the great advantages to be derived from making a little riot (una asonadita), he was interrupted by the deputies with the assurance, that, if it were necessary to depose the king, they could command a large majority; that, as to the responsibility and danger, they were content to share it among them; that the consequences of a riot could not be foreseen, except in the disgrace with which it must cover the liberals, and especially those in authority: and they again entreated of them to return to their friends, and use their utmost influence to keep them quiet. Upon this the deputation returned to the barracks, and it is impossible to describe the disappointment of the troops at hearing the result. They had expected, and were prepared for, a very different answer, but dare not oppose the wishes of their leaders, and peace was preserved.

At five o'clock the deputation of the Cortes went, by appointment, to the palace. These deputations were always heretofore received by the highest officers of the court, and with all becoming etiquette; but on this occasion they were surrounded by scullions and grooms; and While the king and his camarilla were thus nothing could equal the insolence of those most indiscreetly endeavouring to get up a riot, people. At last the king appeared, and having the troops of the garrison were preparing to taken his seat on the throne, General Valdes admake one in downright earnest. The liberals, who dressed him, stating that the Cortes had declared had left the galleries in the hall of the Cortes, be- themselves in permanent sitting, in consequence cause they could not, in consequence of General of the approach of the enemy; and that, under Alava's observations, influence the deputies by circumstances, they had resolved to send a mestheir expressions of approbation or disapproba-sage to his majesty, entreating him, for his pertion, went directly to the marines and the sonal safety, to leave Seville for Cadiz the next militia of Madrid, who formed almost all the gar- day. The king answered, "That personally