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to all his children. This is a tyranny and a folly as re- large farms, by an exact economical management, will volting to common sense as the most outrageous law of give to the nation food in greater abundance, and at entail. A man, by successful industry, acquires means less cost, than small farms could propose to do, then to purchase an estate, consisting of a hundred acres
large farms are in every respect the most suitable and of land. He has five children, three of whom
are well- ought to be deprecated, as a source of general impo
commendable ; and all excessive cutting up of properties behaved, and have afforded him much comfort; two verishment and disaster.
W. C. are depraved, and act in defiance of all admonition. He would wish to divide his property into three, for the sake of the well-behaved; but this the law does THE SCULPTOR OF BRUGES. not allow him to do. He dies, and the estate is parted About the middle of the sixteenth century, there was not into five equal portions. Each child has now twenty an artist in the Netherlands whose fame had spread wider acres, and the same law again operates to subdivide. than that of Messer Andrea, the sculptor of Bruges. His Suppose each to have five children, then each of these father had come from Italy, and settled in Flanders, gets four acres. There are now twenty-five proprietors artist
, whose genius cast just sufficient light to show him
where he lived and struggled, an ardent and enthusiastic instead of one. But the subdivision does not stop; on his own defects. This love of the beautiful was the sole it goes, generation after generation, till at length the inheritance he left his son. But Andrea's northern birth whole land is cut up into paltry sections not the size and education had, to a certain extent, qualified his of a cabbage garden.
Italian descent, so that to his father's ardent nature he Such is the process now going on at a rapid rate in aulded a steady perseverance, without which all the France; and any one who wishes to have a comprehen- genius in the world is but as a meteor of a moment.
The branch of art that Andrea followed was woodsive idea of its consequences, will find the subject amply sculpture, in which, by his wonderful skill, he surpassed treated in the lately issued number of the 'Quarterly all his contemporaries. In our day, it is impossible, from Review. The only modifying arrangement in that the few relics that remain, to know the perfection to country consists in the father being allowed to leave by which our ancestors of the middle ages carried this beauwill a certain share of his property. If he has only one tiful style of art; when Gothic saints and Madonas child, he can bequeath a half; if he has two children, looked down from their niches in cathedrals, though the he can will a third ; and so on. But this has little prac- names of the unknown artists who carved these beautiful tical efficacy, and as the father is not allowed to make the frail material in which they worked had lost its fresh
heads and graceful draperies were forgotten, even before a gift of his property during his life, he is, in fact, little better than a puppet in the hands of his family. Far
The sculptor of Bruges was one of these now-forgotten better the most stern law of primogeniture than this artists; and yet an artist he was, in the highest sense of grossly demoralising and impoverishing folly. It ap- the word. He lived and moved among beautiful fornis pears that, with a population of about thirty-five mil. and ideas; they influenced his character, and refined his lions, France has upwards of eleven millions of landed mind, yet did not make him unfit for association with proprietors, at least five millions of whom own no more he stood high in the regard of his fellow-citizens; and the
the world. Riches and honour came with his fame, until than five acres each, and a vast number not more than
son of the poor Italian student was at last deemed worthy one acre. It is calculated that five and a-half millions to wed one who had long been the object of an almost of these proprietors do not realise individually above hopeless love, a daughter of one of the highest familios L.ll, 10s, annually; and yet, with their families, they in Bruges. This union could not but be a happy one; amount to twenty-seven millions of souls. Thus the and Andrea and his wife slowly advanced towards middle great bulk of the population of France, with the name age, feeling that their present bliss had not belied the of proprietors in enjoyment or prospect, are in a con. drops in their cup: the husband and wife saw several of
promise of their youth. Still, there were a few bitter dition allied to that of paupers. That even in this abject their children drop off one by one, until all that reand precarious state they enjoy greater tranquillity and mained were two boys and a daughter—the lovely little independence than their forefathers prior to the Revolu- fair-baired Gertrude, who was her father's darling. tion, may be acknowledged; but to compare them-a Nevertheless, these were sufficient to make the sculptor's poor, bare-legged, wooden-shoed, half-clad, half-fed set home cheerful, and the lost brothers and sisters were of beings—with the artisans of Great Britain, would be hardly missed.
At the time when our story begins, Andrea had finished manifestly absurd. Yet, as we have said, some people are his latest work. It was a group of angels, carved in wood, actually so insane as to propose a subdivision of lands to adorn the church of Bruges. The burghers crowded in these islands on a similar scale. In certain districts to gaze upon and admire the work of their fellow-citizen, of France the morsels of land are so small, that some of whom they were so justly proud. It was indeed a families own no more than a single ridge; and the beautiful specimen of the ancient Gothic style, such as consequence is, not only excessive poverty, but constant one meets with sometimes even now in old churches, litigation as to the elucidation and settlement of rights. where the hand of innovation has not reached. Three If this practice of subdivision remain unchecked by law, angels formed the group, one kneeling with raised eyes
and humbly-folded hands, while the other's stretchedan agrarian convulsion, more fearful in its effects than out arms were lifted upwards in rapturous adoration; the Revolution of 1793, will, in the course of another and the third, looking down on the worshippers below, generation, inevitably ensue.
pointed towards heaven. The perfect beauty of expresAll things considered, we arrive at the following sion, the grand, yet simple masses of drapery, falling in propositions respecting the tenure and management of broad folds, which are the characteristics of this style, land. First, that land, like every other commodity, won universal praise. The artist stood by, in pleasure, ought to be at the free disposal of its proprietor, to sell it shook his own in friendly congratulation, and many an
not unmingled with honest pride, when many a hand ; or bequeath it as he thinks proper—subject, of course, eye, made humbler by rank and distance, looked at him
in the latter case, to making a reasonable provision admiringly. i for widow and children. Second, that land should be
In all the pleased assembly there was but one dissenagriculturally managed in that form which would cause tient voice, and that was from a brother artist and rival it to yield permanently the largest amount of produce of Andrea. Melchior Kunst was one of those dark and at the smallest expenditure of means. If it can be unquiet spirits who seem to cast a shadow wherever shown, therefore, as we confidently believe it can, that I they go. He was a man of great talent, noble to look
at, and at times most fascinating in manner, and yet no there was nothing to justify his previous thought. The one loved him. There appeared to be an atmosphere of canal flowed on, silent and dark as before: not a struggle, gloom and distrust about him, which made his fellow- not a groan, not a cry rose up from its gloomy depths. men shrink from him. Even now, all instinctively made it could have been only a heavy stone, which had fallen way for him, and Melchior strode on until he stood oppo- from the old dilapidated wall into the waters beneath. site the group. He folded his arms, and looked at it Andrea felt sure of this, and went on his way until he fixedly from under his dark brows. Then he addressed reached his horne-a home where, since he left, danger the artist, who stood at a little distance.
and anxiety had entered. * Doubtless you think this very fine, Messer Andrea ?' Three days after this, two armed officers of justice
"It is not what I think of it, but the judgment which made their appearance in the dwelling of the sculptor of the world puts on my work, that is of consequence,' an- Bruges. They came to take prisoner the master of the swered Andrea calmly.
house, accused of the crime of murder. From the day of ' And you never saw this design before ?'
the contest in the hall, Melchior Kunst had nerer been Certainly not; it is my own.'
seen until that morning, when his lifeless body had floated • Indeed!" said Melchior with that quiet sneer which up from the bed of the canal into the very market-place, is so galling, sitting on his curved lips--the handsomest a fearful spectre among living men. Then one of the feature of his very handsome face. Indeed! And so you horror-stricken bystanders remembered that on the same never go into another's studio, and copy limbs, and atti- night of their quarrel he had seen Messer Andrea pass tude, and design, as you have here stolen from me?' by the way that led along the canal, and that not long
'It is not true,' said Andrea, with difficulty restraining after Melchior Kunst also followed. Another man, who his passion.
lived near, had heard a plunge in the water, but thought i tell you it is,' cried his opponent. “Look, gentle- it was only his own dog, who often at night swam across men, brother artists; look! this figure is mine-my own the canal. A third had met Messer Andrea beside the design; and here l execute my will upon what is my canal also, but had seen no other man. This was suffiown!' and he drew a hatchet from under his cloak, and cient evidence to convict the unfortunate artist. before the wonder-stricken spectators could interfere, he The officers found their prisoner alone. He was sitting severed one of the upraised hands of the nearest figure. with his head buried in his hands, and hardly moved at
Andrea was stung to the quick by this mutilation of their entrance. One of them laid his hand on the bis work; all his Italian blood was roused within him: sculptors shoulder, and claimed him as a prisoner. with a sudden impulse he rushed upon Kunst with the Andrea looked up with a face so listless, so racant, so fury of a tiger at bay. Those around interfered; but deadly pale, that the officer started, and unconsciously it was needless, for Andrea's well-constituted mind had let go his hold. already got the better of his momentary rage, and he A prisoner!' said Andrea, without making an effort stood pale, but self-possessed, gazing alternately at bis to move. What have I done? Who accuses me!! adversary and at his own despoiled work.
The officer was a man of kindly nature, who had known * Melchior Kunst,' said he at last, ' you think you have Messer Andrea in former times. Ile gently and respectdone me a great injury; and so you have, but not an fully explained his crrand; but had to repeat it several irreparable one. I will not revenge myself now, but you times before Andrea comprehended him. It seemed that will be sorry for it some time.'
some heavy cloud darkened his faculties. At last he unA loud laugh from Kunst made the sculptor once more derstood the whole. clench his hands, while the bright-red mounted to his So they accuse ine of being a murderer-an assassin?' brow; but he said no more, and after Melchior's departure, said he, rising, while a shiver ran through his frame. he too left the hall with some friends, who were stricken Then addressing the first officer, 'You were a good man dumb by this untoward event.
once-follow me.' The other hesitated. You need not It was late in the evening when Andrea returned to fear,' continued Andrea; 'I am unarmed-I have no wards his own home. He walked slowly along by the thought of escaping from justice.' side of the dark and gloomy canal, which the setting The man followed his er until they came to a light of the young moon only made more solemn and darkened room; it was the chamber of death. On the fearful. Thick ivy-hung walls, even in the daytime, cast bed lay the pale and shrouded form of a woman. Very a heary shadow on the water; and now it looked like beautiful she must have been, and her beauty had scarcely some dark abyss, which no nian could fathom. Here and passed its maturity. No long illness had taken away there some pale solitary ray of moonlight pierced through the roundness of health from her face, so that even in the branches of the acacias that overhung the opposite death she looked lovely as a marble statue. The long side, seeming like a bright arrow flashing through the dark lashes rested on her check, and a few locks of jetdarkness.
black hair, escaping from the fillet that bound her head, Andrea's heart was very heavy. His triumph had gave a lifelike air to her repose. By her side lay an ended in pain : disappointment not only at the injury infant-a flower of an hour—whose little soul had come done to his work, but at the unjust accusation of Melchior from Heaven at sunrise, and returned thither at sunset. Kunst. Andrea knew how ready are the suspicions of They were the wife and child of Andrea. the world when once aroused; and he fancied that al The sculptor pointed to the dead. "Look there," he ready cold and doubtful eyes examined his group with less said,' and say if I am likely to have revenged any trifling favour than heretofore. And besides, the sudden ebulli- insult—if I am likely to have been a murderer!' His tion of anger to which he had been goaded left a weight | voice grew hoarse; he stretched his arms towards the behind, both bodily and mental; for with men of Andrea's body of his wife, and then fell to the earth in strong congentle and not easily-roused temperament, such excite- vulsions. ment ever causes a painful reaction.
Andrea, during nearly the whole time that elapsed The sculptor walked on quickly amidst the gathering between his apprehension and trial, was dead to the condarkness of the night, for the moon had now set. He sciousness of his misery. A low fever enfeebled all his fancied now and then that he heard stealthy footsteps at senses, and reduced his outward form to the appearance a distance behind him; and perhaps this made him un- of an old man. His friends--for he had still many-took consciously urge his pace. Andrea was no coward, but it both his sons to their charge. It was well they did, for was a lonely place by the water-side, and he was unarmed. the father seemed to have lost all remembrance even of Still, as the footsteps approached no nearer, he reproached their existence. When they visited him, he took not the himself for yielding to the delusion of an imagination least notice of them ; so the children were at last wisely heated by the events of the day. All at once Andrea sent far away from the scene of disgrace and suffering. heard distinctly a plunge in the water of some heavy But with Gertrude the father would not part. She was body. His first idea was that some unfortunate had thus a sweet little creature, the image of her mother in feature ended his life and his miseries; but the sound was so dis- and expression, but her complexion resembled her father. tant, that he was uncertain. He retraced his steps; but Her eyes wero of that deep violet huo which is seldon
seen beyond childhood-so dark, that a careless observer looking behind, and where the sound of one's own footwould call them black. Gertrude's hair was of that colour steps would sound hollow and full of dread, as if somewhich the old masters often gave to heads of Christ and thing fearful were following after us. of the Virgin-a mingling of warm brown and reddish Andrea and his daughter heard the heavy door close, gold tints, which the uninitiated might call red, but and they were alone in the hall. The little girl led her which painters know to be the most beautiful of all father to the bench beside the hearth, and then sat down shades. It gave to sweet Gertrude the appearance of an at his feet, holding his hands fast in hers. She dared not angel, for in the sunshine it looked like a coronet of look anywhere but at the bright fire and at her father's golden light around her head. If ever human form face ; even the shadows that the flames cast on the ceil. seemed the visible embodiment of a perfect soul, it was ing made her start sometimes. Gertriple had been accusthis child's. We have lingered over the picture of her, tomed to a prison, for she had never left her father, except partly because we love to think of beauty, and partly when taken home at night, to return next morning-but because such descriptions always give vividness to events this place seemed gloomier than any before. that are long gone by.
Andrea had no hope. His life had been free from any The first evidence that Andrea gave of returning con very heavy sorrows, and the first that came, so fearful as sciousness to things around him, was in recognising his they were, overwhelmed him. His sole ideá now was, to little daughter, and calling her by her name. It was her employ the short remnant of his life in executing some inoiher's also; and perhaps that, aided by the strong memorial of his talents to leave behind him, that, when reseinblance, was a comfort to the widowed husband. time had removed the shadow from his fame, his children He began to talk coherently, first with Gertrude, and might have no reason to blush for their father. He rethen with others who came to see him; and by degrees turned again to his long-cherished occupation. For a his mind and body gathered strength, so that he was able while this gave him sensations almost amounting to pleato think of his defence against the terrible crime laid to His step became lighter, and his countenance lost his charge. This was a momentous thing, for the proofs somewhat of the settled melancholy. He almost forgot were all against him, and Andrea could bring no evidence his sorrows, his blighted name, his impending doom, in in his favour, save his own explanation of what had hap- the exercise of his beloved art. He would cease from his pened on his way homewards that fatal day, and the work, look at the beautiful image which had risen to life irreproachable character he had borne all his life. under his hand, and murmur to himself, 'What man
At last the sculptor of Bruges was brought from his will say that the hand of an assassin has done this ? that prison to the judgment-hall where he was to be tried. the brain which formed this idea of beauty could plan a He seemed to himself like one risen from the grave, and murder ?' indeed so he appeared to those about him. Andrea had And by degrees the influence of his beautiful art in been a strong, powerful, noble-looking man, but now all some measure soothed the mind of the sorrow-stricken his flesh had shrunk away, and his height only made him man. His desolate prison becanie cheerful with the appear more shadowy. Dark circles were round his eyes, graceful forms which it contained, and Gertrude moved and his face bore an unvaried sallow hue. Nevertheless, among the whole like a beautiful spirit. If ever the his mien was firm and composed ; no one could look at sculptor clung to hope and life, it was when he looked at him, and doubt for a moment his innocence. Andrea's his darling child, and at the more imperishable offspring little daughter stood by his side: one might have likened of his genius. her to a flower growing close beside a tomb. Gertrude At last Andrea's work drew nigh to a close : the sculphad becoine accustomed to the change in her father's ture was finished. Then it was that the enthusiasm which looks, and the shocked and anxious gaze of all around had sustained him faded away, and the artist's soul sank struck her with alarm. She crept closer to him, never within him. He gave the last touches to his beautiful taking her eyes from his face.
work--he knew he could do no more--and then went and The trial proceeded. All was against Andrea: even the sat in dumb stillness, in a stupor of grief and despair. words he had uttered before Melchior left the hall were Gertrude clung round him in affection, mingled with brought in judgment against him : they had sounded like fcar, but he did not speak to her or embrace her. a threat. None that had known Andrea doubted in their Father, dear father, are you tired? Are you angry own hearts that he was a guiltless man, but the circum- with your little girl ?' and the child stood on tiptoe, stantial evidence was too strong to be gainsayed by the trying to remove the hands which covered his face. 1. He was found guilty of the assassination of Melchior Andrea seemed hardly conscious of her presence, but Kunst; and Andrea—the gentle, upright man, who had repeated every now and then in a low tone, 'I have done never lifted a hand against a fellow-creature, save in that my work-I have no hope-now let me die.' one evil hour when he was driven to passion by Melchior The terrified child, who had been all along kept in Kunst-was removed from the hall of justice with the ignorance of her father's doom, began to weep, but her stain of murder on his name.
tears were interrupted by the entrance of the magistrates Condemnation was deferred for a short space, for the of Bruges. They came to view the finished work of the sake of the hitherto unsullied character of the criminal. artist. High as Andrea's reputation had been, they did In those days the hand of law was often tampered with, not expect so beautiful a creation as that which now met and never was it with greater show of justice than in this their eyes. They looked upon it in silence, and then instance. Andrea's great talents, and the many friends turned to the artist, who, wan and haggard, without a who warmly protested how incapable he was of such a single ray of hope illuminating his pale features, stood crime, interposed in his behalf." They succeeded in ob- behind his judges. One of them, an old man, was melter taining only a suspension of the sentence for a few months, even to tears. Forgetting the dignity of office, the magisthat some chance might elicit the truth which so many trate took hold of the criminal's hand and led him to a doubted. But in the meantime the sculptor was ordered seat. to execute some work of art to adorn the Palais de Justice 'You must not stand, Messer Andrea ; you are not yet at Bruges, where he had been tried. For this purpose he strong,' said he compassionately. “Sit and rest while Fas brought from his cell, and confined in the hall which we examine your beautiful work.' bad witnessed his trial.
The sculptor obeyed without a word: he was passive as a It was a large gloomy-looking chamber, so dimly lighted child. Little Gertrude, who had shrunk away at the sight from without, that even at mid-day the dark shadows in of strangers, came and stood silently behind her father, the corners of the room looked like night. An immense taking fast hold of his garments. The two magistrates hearth, on which lay a few fagots, was the only cheerful inspected the sculpture, and could not restrain their adGhject, but even that light and warmth did not reach miration. The eye of the unfortunate artist brightened beyond the immediate vicinity of the fire. There was no for a moment at their warm praise, but immediately his furniture in the room, save one small table in the centre, face returned to its accustomed melancholy. a bench, and a straw couch in the gloomiest corner. It . It is all in vain,' he answered; ' you cannot make men was a place in which one would instinctively shrink from forget the past you cannot take the shadow from the
name of my children - you cannot give their father Anglo-Indians. Hardly a single number of the Review life.'
has appeared without at least one article containing a The magistrates looked at one another, and the elder contribution towards the social history of our countryone spoke. * There is hope still, Messer Andrea ; have you courage shall be able to collect from its pages, without much
men in Hindoostan; and we persuade ourselves that we to hear it ?'
The artist started up, and raised his thin form to its assistance from other sources, a pretty distinct idea of full height. "Tell me that I am proved innocent, and I their actual position and character. With this general will thank God and die.'
acknowledgment to the Calcutta Review, we shall proWe do not promise quite so much,' said one of the ceed, without thinking it necessary to distinguish in judges, wishing to temper Andrea's violent excitement.
detail the information we may owe to it, except when Only have hope. Many things have been discovered that is adopted in its own words. to-day, continued the aged man whose kindness had first moved Andrea. Be calm now; to-morrow we may send
In the earlier part of the Company's history, their you good news.'
servants were sent out to fight and sell for their masters, The magistrates departed, leaving the poor prisoner with and scramble as well as they could for themselves. Ina wildly-throbbing heart, which he vainly endeavoured to stead of a salary capable of supporting them, they were still. all that day he sat with Gertrude in his arms, allowed all sorts of dishonest advantages in trade over kissing her, fondling her, at times almost weeping over the natives; and the consequence was, that, generally her. To all the questions of the wondering child he only speaking, they scorned the regular gains of their apanswered, “To-morrow, lore; we may be free to-mor- pointments, and took to tyranny and spoliation. The row.'
And when the attendants came to remove Gertrude for unsuccessful never returned to Europe at all, while the the night, he unclasped her arms from round his neck, comparatively few who had enriched themselves by unwith the promise that he too would go away with her to- fair traffic, or something worse, brought home their
huge fortunes and bilious physiognomies, to serve as • Leave here to-morrow!' cried the happy child. Will studies for the playwrights, storytellers, and caricatuyou, too, leave this gloomy place to-morrow, and return rists. When Mr Shore, afterwards Lord Teignmouth, no more ?'
‘God forbid I should return! No, my child, never arrived in India as a writer in 1769, his salary was more,' answered the father with a shudder.
eight rupees a-month; and he complains bitterly that, * And shall we go out together-shall we go to our own notwithstanding this short allowance, the commercial home? pursued Gertrude.
speculations of the government servants had been so 'Yes, dear child,' said Andrea, as he kissed her once much burthened with restrictions, as to make the primore, and set her on the ground from his trembling vilege of hardly any use. He adds somewhat later, arms, too weak for even so light a burthen. "Yes, my that when on a mission to Dacca, he might have made Gertrude, I shall indeed go home to-morrow.'
He had spoken truth. Soon after daybreak next morn- L.100,000 but for his scruples; and later still, he was ing some officers entered the hall, bearing a release for the offered by a native prince (as a bribe of course) five prisoner, whom the confession of a stranger had proved lacs of rupees and eight thousand gold mohurs. Shore to be guiltless. Andrea was leaning on the table, his accepted only a picture, having no ambition to swell the head resting op his arms, and his upturned face raised rank of the 'nabobs' in England. About the same time towards his work. But as they drew nearer, they saw Mr Forbes's entire income at Madras, from salary and that his countenance was ineaningless, and that no life other sources, was L.65 a-year ; and the consequence shone in his fixed and open eyes. The sculptor of Bruges was dead-his heart had broken with joy.*
that the poor cadet was frequently obliged to go to bed soon after sunset for want of a candle !
* You may not believe me when I tell you,' writes Sir THE ENGLISH IN INDIA.
Thomas Munroe, 'that I never experienced hunger or ENGLISH society in India has latterly been undergoing thirst, fatigue or poverty, until I came to India ; that numerous pleasing meliorations. While rapacity and since then, I have frequently met with the first three, sensuality have been disappearing, integrity and re- and that the last has been my constant companion. If finement have been correspondingly on the advance. you wish for proofs, here they are—I was three years Among other tokens of an improved taste, not the least in India before I was master of any other pillow than conspicuous is the support given to a quarterly literary a book or a cartridge pouch; my bed was a piece of journal, the Calcutta Review'-an actual six.shilling canvas stretched on four cross-sticks, whose only ornareview, in the English language, printed on the banks ment was the greatcoat that I brought from England, of the Hoogly! We wish to draw attention to this gra- which, by a lucky invention, I turned into a blanket in tifying specimen of Anglo-Indian literature, as well as the cold weather, by thrusting my legs into the sleeves, a few other points not undeserving of attention in Eng- and drawing the skirts over my head. In this situation land.
I lay, like Falstaff in the basket-hilt to point, and very The Calcutta Review is an important work in itself, comfortable, I assure you, all but my feet; for the inasmuch as it frequently gathers into a single article tailor, not liaving foreseen the various uses to which the Indian information one would otherwise have to this piece of dress might be applied, had cut the cloth hunt for through a library; but it is likewise interesting so short, that I never could, with all my ingenuity, from a circumstance not generally known in this coun- bring both ends under cover; whatever I gained by try-namely, that some of its best articles are written drawing up my legs, I lost by exposing my neck; and by native contributors. This is a gigantic step taken I generally chose rather to cool my heels than my head. by the Hindoo mind, and, considered in conjunction ... My dress has not been more splendid than my with the numerous periodicals now circulating in the furniture. I have never been able to keep it all of a national dialects, and edited by natives, is full of delight- piece. It grows tattered in one quarter whilst I am ful hope. . Our present business, however, is with the establishing funds to repair it in another, and my coat
is in danger of losing the sleeves, while I am pulling it * Tho leading incidents of this story are strictly true. The works off to try on a new waistcoat.' This was during thic of Andrea may still be seen in the Palais de Justice at Bruges. period of nabobship, when a novelist who wanted to
enrich his heroine suddenly, had nothing to do but to But all this was neither the effect of magic nor the find her an uncle in India.
doing of Lord Cornwallis. Anglo-India is peopled from Besides a universal rapacity, there was a prevalent England, and educated in England ; and generally speakand odious looseness of manners which shocked the uning, the same change of manners must be observable sophisticated natives. • Those who came hither,' says
there which goes on at home. The reign of George III. the Calcutta Review,' were often desperate adventurers, changed the entire character of the people; and India
was the epoch of a social reform at home which gradually whom England, in the emphatic language of the Scrip- partook of necessity in the revolution. The Company, ture, had spued out; men who sought these golden sharing themselves in the change as individuals, made sands of the East to repair their broken fortunes ; to their service more respectable and more regular, by inbury in oblivion a sullied name; or to wring, with law.creasing the wages of their servants, and diminishing at less hand, from the weak and unsuspecting, wealth which once their power and their temptation to plunder ; and they had not the character or the capacity to obtain by thus an entirely new form was given to the personel of bonest industry at home. They cheated, they gambled, their establishments. Formerly, the daring, the dissithey drank ; they revelled in all kinds of debauchery; pated, the worthless members of a family were cast off though associates in vice, linked together by a common to India—'whistled down the wind to prey at fortune;' bond of rapacity, they often pursued one another with but now that it had become a field of regular industry desperate malice, and, few though they were in num- and honourable ambition, respectable men looked to the bers, among them there was no unity, except a unity service as offering an eligible provision for the cleverest of crime.' The fullest scope was given for the miscon- of their sons. Such men as these lads turned out were duct of such persons by the corporate immorality of the not fitted for the matrimonial prey of adventuresses ; early companies ; and we may suppose what a paradise and accordingly, the ladies-errant were seen returning the country must have been, when we are informed by in great numbers from their land of promise. A new the Abbé Raynal that the English were the best of the set of wives were now provided for the Anglo-Indians. Europeans in India !
As morality advanced, and the numbers of half-caste It is no wonder that the returned nabobs were children began to dwindle; and, more than all, as the seized upon with avidity by the romancers and drama- officers, civil and military, became worth a tolerable sum tists, and that no exception was made in favour of in- living or dead, the legitimate daughters of residents redividuals from the reprobation or ridicule showered turned to India after their English education had been upon the class. One of these curiosities - General completed, and married and settled under the eye of Smith-when he was appointed high-sheriff of Berk- their parents. Gradually, therefore, and naturally, the shire, called a county meeting for the sole purpose of once jarring elements of society subsided into their preproposing to the noblemen and gentlemen to sanction sent form. Occasionally a merchant comes back, with a road to be cut through their properties, in order to an ample fortune made by legitimate trade; and every enable him to drive to his seat of Chilton Lodge without day numbers of civil and military officers make their the necessity of passing through the paltry town of reappearance, with a provision, more or less comfortable Hungerford. The same nabob, on going into a gaming- or handsome, for life. But nabobs are among the things house in St James's, and finding no company, laid him- that were. A returned Indian is simply an English self down to sleep on one of the sofas, telling the waiter gentleman who has passed much of his time abroad; to take care that he should not be disturbed, 'unless and we should wonder at his intimate acquaintance with some fellow or other came in who had spirit enough to things and persons at home, if we did not know that throw a main at hazard for three thousand guineas.' | the increasing facilities and diminished charges of traThe fellow proved to be the dissipated Lord Littleton, velling had permitted him to keep up, by an occasional who entered the room singing, with some of his con- visit, his old associations. As for his wife and daughters, genial companions, and at once accepted the challenge. they have no difficulty in gliding back into the English He continued his song throughout the game, which he tastes the Calcutta reviewer would persuade us they Fon; and pocketing the money in the midst of shouts once abandoned; and we question whether it would be of laughter, bade the general good-night. But General possible to distinguish, at à soirée, a fair Anglo-Indian Smith-who was the Sir Matthew Mite of Foote—was from the rest of her countrywomen. as profuse in deeds of generosity as of folly. He sup Fifty years ago, M. de Grandpré declared Calcutta to ported, for instance, the banking-house of the Drum- be not only the handsomest town in Asia, but one of monds, in an emergency in 1772, with a deposit of the finest cities in the world;' and since then, it has obL 150,000 ; and this for no other reason than that some tained the title, by which it is popularly known, of City of the partners had occasionally given him half-a-crown of Palaces. This is not derived from its public buildwhen he was a boy.
ings, though these are both numerous and handsome, In 1780, the first Anglo-Indian newspaper was pub- but from the private dwellings of the servants' of its lished at Calcutta. It was called · Hicky's Gazette,' merchant-princes. These dwellings have an extensive and was a mass of slander and iniquity of every kind; frontage, and abundance of pillars and porticos; and in return for which an attempt was made to assassi- their white colour, seen through a hot and cloudless nate the editor. Before the end of the century, how- atmosphere, dazzles the eyes. Their rooms are usually ever, a great change for the better had taken place. large and lofty, opening en suite, and they are supplied Drinking, gambling, and rioting went gradually out of with glass windows and Venetian doors. They are full fashion; and Lord Cornwallis left the country on the of European furniture, the walls glittering with paintfair road to social as well as political improvement. 'Aings, the floors covered with carpets, and the doors reformation highly commendable,' says Mr Tennant in and windows hung with curtains. Plate, glass, por1798,' has been effected, partly from necessity, but celain, bronze, papier maché, alabaster, lamps, lustres more by the example of a late governor-general, whose and chandeliers — everything, in short, that taste and elevated rank and noble birth gave him in a great mea- wealth could desire, is abundant in these luxurious sure the guidance of fashion. Regular hours and so- abodes, where the inhabitants voluntarily broil thembriety of conduct became as decidedly the test of a man selves with the comforts of Europe under the tropic of
of fashion as they were formerly of irregularity. Thou- Cancer. | sands owe their lives, and many more their health, to In the article of female dress, there is usually seen
this change, which had neither been reckoned on nor in Calcutta a not less costly style of fashion. eren foreseen by those who introduced it.' Respect- immense investments of rich satins and gorgeous velably conducted journals were now published, the number vets — the latter rarely sold at less than a guinea a of half-caste children was diminished, and by degrees yard—which pass into the hands of consumers every Anglo-Indian society assumed much of the appearance cold weather, is altogether incommensurate with the we find at home.
number of ladies whose means and position would, in