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and moral action, it is no bare and momentary sight of of another is made up of odds and ends borrowed from the truth which can effect anything practical. The all sources, often disagreeing with each other, and havwisdom of age and experience is precisely this-con- ing no firm foundation whatever. Such a man is ‘unviction from long familiarity with the proofs of those truths stable as water, and shall not prevail.' which the young and inexperienced have merely read in books or heard from others. If you tell a young and THE INSTALLATION ODE. vigorous man that he will injure his health by this or

We had thought that the days of ceremonial verse by that practice, he will probably give his verbal assent; poets - laureate were past with Mr Pye; but we were but no impression is made on the mind, and he proceeds mistaken. Mr Wordsworth, it appears, does not enjoy to do that which the older man has so strongly asso the situation on the understanding of its being a sineciated with the feelings of pain and disease consequent cure. He has produced an ode on the occasion of Prince on it, that even if he were as young and healthy, he Albert's installation as chancellor of Cambridge univerwould not, and could not neglect the danger. The state sity. And such an ode! No one can read it without nients of science are believed by the great mass of people a-year, has either felt it as his duty, or been reminded

pitying the poor old man who, for some paltry hundred of course on trust. If you tell one who is totally igno- thereof, to cudgel his brains in order to make something rant of astronomy, that on such a day a hundred years that will sing on an occasion to the Muse indifferent. to come there will be an eclipse, he will believe it ; but Finding, apparently, no idea of the present day to start if any great stake depended upon it, such as his fortune with, he has been forced to go back to some of Mr or his life, he would immediately become restless and Pye’s compositions for material, and accordingly we unsatisfied, showing clearly that his belief was not con

have a commencement made with the following allu

sions to that favourite aversion of our youth, Napoviction, whilst the astronomer, who had gone carefully

leon :through every step of the investigation, would be perfectly at ease.

INTRODUCTION AND CHORUS. No one can ever become a man of decided character,

For thirst of power that Heaven disowns,

For temples, towers, and thrones, whose opinions are not thus founded on 'conviction,' Too long insulted by the spoiler's shock, as opposed to mere belief.' For some excellent re

Indignant Europe cast marks on this point, the reader is referred to that ad.

Hier stormy foe at last mirable work, Foster's Essays. For, without firm

To reap the whirlwind on a Libyan rock. grounds for his belief,' he will ‘waver about with every wind of doctrine.' If we examine the daily con

War is passion's basest game duct of all classes of society, we see in every one this

Madly played to win a name; want of conviction. If a set of propositions were

Up starts some tyrant, earth and heaven to dare,

The servile million bow; drawn up, on which half a million of people agreed, by

But will the lightning glance aside to spare nine-tenths of them would the greater portion be vio

The despot's laurelled brow? lated in their conduct. Take, for instance, a set of such assertions as those relating to the preservation of health. Fresh air is necessary,' Exercise is necessary,'

War is mercy, glory, fame,

Waged in freedom's holy causeModeration in eating and drinking,' &c. &c. Now, if

Freedom such as man may claim people really were convinced of these facts, their conduct

Under God's restraining laws. would show it. But they are not convinced, or anything

Such is Albion's fame and glory;

Let rescued Europe tell the story. like it. Nothing is so difficult as to convince people of the most obvious and generally admitted truths, espe

So much being done--and most thankful must the cially if their own welfare depends upon acting on these poet have been when he had done so much-a new effort truths. You may easily enough find persons to sup- has to be made. One can imagine the writer running port aërial machines, impossible railways, or any other distractedly over the whole field of his thoughts in quest absurdity ; but directly you try to make them act in of something more, and at length, after desperate exeraccordance with principles, the truth of which they tions, making out a reference to another matter that have admitted all their lives, you find you are talking excited public feeling in our youth, but one not bearing to empty air. If one ten-thousandth part of the money, the slightest connection with the preceding, time, and energy were employed in putting into prac

RECIT. (ACCOMPANIED)--CONTRALTO. tice the most simple and evident truths, which are now

But, lo! what sudden cloud has darkened all squandered in useless vagaries, the comfort, health, The land, as with a funeral pall ? wealth, and happiness of all classes throughout Europe The Rose of England suffers blight, would be more advanced in two years than in the last

The flower has drooped, the isle's delight;

Flower and bud together falltwo hundred years. What is wanted is not a crusade to

A nation's hopes lie crushed in Claremont's desolate hall. preach new opinions, but to get everybody to act up to those he already has. The object to be aimed at is the Here another awful pause of thought. The poet, howsubstitution of that thorough, clear-sighted, determined ever, is now approaching ground which has some sort

conviction which impels a man on as effectually as if of connection with the occasion. Hear him-
the pains and punishment of neglect were staring him
in the face, and about to fall on him immediately—the

Time a chequered mantle wears ; substitution of this for that lazy belief,' which gives

Earth awakes from wintry sleep; assent because it is no more trouble than to dissent.

Again the tree a blossom bearsMoney won easily is lost again easily : opinions taken

Cease, Britannia, cease to weep.

Hark to the peals on this bright May moru! up without much care are either changed in the same

They tell that your future Queen is born. way, ,or at anyrate remain barren, lifeless, useless things. It is only by going carefully through every

SOPRANO SOLO AND CIORUS. reason on which they are founded, and by thus having

A guardian angel fluttered

Above the babe, unseen; the mind deeply and frequently impressed with the

One word he softly utteredreality of the truth, that these profitless and empty

It named the future Queen : beliefs' can be converted into practical principles. The And a joyful cry through the island rang, difference between one man and another will be found

As clear and bold as the trumpet's clans, to depend very greatly on the attention he has given to

As bland as the reed of peace

· Victoria be her name!' the proofs and reasons of things. The creed of one man

For righteous triumphs are the base is his own property, for he has made it himself; that

Whereon Britannia rests her peaceful fame.


For comment on this we are content to wait for the QUARTET

university commission, that cannot be much longer Time, in his mantle's sunniest fold, Uplifted in his arms the child ;

delayed. Now for a crash of sentiment to bring out all And, while the fearless infant smiled,

the musical powers of the affair-
Her happier destiny foretold :-

*Infancy, by wisdom mild,
Trained to health and artless beauty.

Albert, in thy race we cherish
Youth, by pleasure unbeguiled

A nation's strength that will not perish
From the lore of lofty duty.

While England's sceptered line
Womanhood, in pure renown,

True to the King of Kings is found;
Seated on her lineal throne,

Like that wise* ancestor of thine
Leaves of myrtle in her crown,

Who threw the Saxon shield o'er Luther's life,
Fresh with lustre all their own.

When first above the yells of bigot strife
Love, the treasure worth possessing,

The trumpet of the Living Word
More than all the world beside :

Assumed a voice of deep portentous sound,
This shall be her choicest blessing,

From gladdened Elbe to startled Tiber heard.
Oft to royal hearts denied.

This designed for lyric poetry! All of it, too, untrue

What shield more sublime in fact, seeing that Queen Victoria was not born to a

E'er was blazoned or sung?

And the Prince whom we greet certain expectation of the throne, and that therefore no

From its hero is sprung. joyful cry whatever ran through the land on account of

Resound, resound the strain, her advent into the world. Criticism on the quartet

That hails him for our own! part is forbidden by decorum ; but we hope that the

Again, again, and yet again,

For the Church, the State, the Throne ! Queen knows how to estimate expressions which would

And that presence fair and bright, be equally bestowed by a court poet on any person

Ever blest wherever seen, whatever occupying her place. The best, however, is

Who deigns to grace our festal rite, now to come. We are next called upon either to be

The Pride of the Islands, Victoria the Queen ! lieve as fact, or to regard as a pleasant poetical fancy, And so it closes, without one poetical thought or happy that at some indefinite time in the Queen's infancy, called that eve,' the following supernatural occurrences expression from beginning to end, much less with a single took place :

gleam of healthy, natural, sincere sentiment–the whole

a piece of the merest crambo, scarcely worthy of hoarse RECIT. (ACCOMPANIED) -BASS.

Fitzgerald, and certainly much less likely to have met That eve the star of Brunswick shone

with success in a tavern hall, had it been there spouted, With steadfast ray benign

than were the ordinary creaking couplets of that hero. On Gotha's ducal roof, and on The softly flowing Leine:

What on earth can have induced the poet of the lakes
Nor failed to gild the spires of Bonn,

to consent to the degradation of writing such a poem!
And glittered on the Rhine.
Old Camus, too, on that prophetic night,
Was conscious of the ray;

And his willows whispered in its light,
Not to the zephyr's sway,

If the Alpine tourist be possessed of tolerable activity,
But with a Delphic life, in sight

and be desirous to obtain an unequalled mountain view Of this auspicious day.

-and, more particularly, a view of the monarch of CHORUS.

mountains, Mont Blanc, sublimely seated in his awful This day, when Granta hails her chosen lord,

state-let him, the tourist, if he be within any moderate And proud of her award,

distance of the mountain, by no means omit to ascend Confiding in the star serene, Welcomes the consort of a happy queen.

the Buet; for many years, until English perseverance From some recollections of Milton's Lycidas, we highest accessible point of the Alps.

and activity proved the contrary, supposed to be the presume that Old Camus is the genius of the river

It was on the 24th of July 1844 that I left Chamouny, Cam, a gentleman who speaks by his willows; thus, with my guide, Ferdinand Tissay, each mounted on a like the duke, finding tongues in trees, though, it would mule, at half-past three in the morning, on our way to appear, not very truthful ones, since Granta could the Buet. At half-past four we reached Argentiere; scarcely be considered as proud of an award in which and here I could not help stopping for several minutes her mind was very nearly as much for no as yes. to admire, though I had many times seen it before, the Could some power but give us a correct return of the wonderful ice - battlemented glacier of Argentiere, and various motives which went to make up the majority the sublime granite spire of the Aiguille Verte, now that chose the Prince, oh William Wordsworth! what tinged with the earliest beams of the sun, which, for a comment we should have upon Granta’s confidence in peaks of such stupendous elevation, had already risen. the star serene. Let us hear, however, what farther At half-past-five, we stopped for a short time at the these willows of Old Camus have to say

Chalets of Poyat; after which we took the direction of

the Col du Bérard. Our way at first lay over a stony Prince, to these collegiate bowers,

and rather boggy ascent; and afterwards up an exceed. Where science, leagued with holier truth,

ingly wild and picturesque valley, with a loud torrent Guards the sacred heart of youth,

foaming as usual through it. Here the path became Solemn monitors are ours. These reverend aisles, these hallowed towers,

so exceedingly rough and steep, that I confess I was Raised by many a hand august,

not sorry to leave the mules before we came to the Are haunted by majestic powers,

Pierre de Bérard, which we were obliged to do, in
The memories of the wise and just,
Who, faithful to a pious trust,

consequence of our finding so much yet unmelted win

ter's snow. Here, in the founder's spirit sought

We left our mules with a youth who had To mould and stamp the ore of thought,

preceded us on foot from Chamouny, and began our own In that bold form and impress high

journey on foot at half-past six, passing over a bed of That best betoken patriot loyalty.

snow, with a torrent audibly running underneath, for Not in vain those sages taught

half an hour or more. True disciples, good as great,

At a quarter past seven we Have pondered here their country's weal,

reached the Pierre de Bérard, a point beyond which Weighed the future by the past,

mules never pass. Travellers have frequently made the Learned how social frames may last,

Pierre de Bérard their halting-place for the night; and
And how a land may rule its fate,

indeed there is a hollow under this rock large enough
By constancy in violate,
Though worlds to their foundations reel,
The sport of factious hate or godless zeal.

* Frederic the Wise, Elector of Saxony.


to shelter several people ; and an additional poor pro- impression of stillness I shall never forget. Close on tection is afforded by a rough wall of stones to keep out the edge of the highest point of the mountain, where the wind. But it is needless to add that bivouacs in the precipice suddenly sinks down with frightful rapi. such places, though no doubt highly romantic, should for dity, and to which we scarcely dared approach, for fear obvious reasons be avoided, unless in cases of extreme of dislodging a mass of the soft snow, we saw the track necessity. For, after all, even for beggars or thieves,' of a chamois, that must have very lately passed. I a worse lodging could scarcely be found. I am always, observed several insects half dead lying on the snow I confess, for a good night's rest; and am apt to suspect during our ascent; and whilst we stood on the summit the energy and perseverance of those who affect to de- -oh, satire on human ambition !-several common butspise conveniences. The hovel, formed in this desolate terflies flew over our heads. spot almost wholly by nature, was very damp and dirty, The view from the summit of the Buet reminds and contained a large patch of snow, yet remaining from one forcibly of one of the old-fashioned maps of all the the blasts and drifts of the winter. At this spot we mountains in the world at one view. In a word, it is first obtained a sight of the Oberland Alps, and from the most unpicturesque thing possible, but possessing a hence our way, though steep, was for a time free from grandeur and sublimity peculiar to itself, which, once snow. The weather was quite perfect; not a cloud seen, is never through life forgotten. was visible; the sky was clear of haze, and the air We could not remain on the actual summit for any mild, yet not close. This pass of Bérard is one of those length of time, for the snow was so soft, that we could better known to shepherds and smugglers than to any not sit down, and no dry rock was visible, and my feet other description of travellers.

were aching excessively with the cold of the wet snow; At a quarter past eight we had of course gained so we descended to some dry rocks a little way down, somewhat in height; but we nevertheless saw cattle where we changed our stockings, and got quite warm, passing the snow, one by one, at a great height above and enjoyed the luncheon we brought with us very us, and in a few minutes more we again entered on the much. We remained here until one o'clock. Neither snow. At a quarter before nine we caught sight of on the summit, nor during the ascent, did either I or Mont Blanc appearing over the range of the Aiguilles my guide experience any inconvenience from the rarity Rouges. At twenty minutes past nine we attained a of the air. During the ascent, I twice heard that rough slaty ridge, quite free from snow; in fact the peculiar solemn noise, difficult to describe, something ridge of the pass. From hence we had a wonderful between a deep sigh and a lourd, heavy, sullen, subdued view of mountain-tops in all directions. It was not sound of an explosion, which no doubt is frequently to cold, but the sky now put on the appearance of the be heard in these upper regions. It is probably occaweather being about to change for the worse. Every sioned by some slip or giving way of the snow under peak, however, even the most distant, was quite clear; the influence of the mid-day sun. Beneath the snownor was there the slightest cloud or haze upon any part cliffs, my guide pointed out to me a place which, he told of Mont Blanc. From this pass we might have de- me, was that in which, in the year 1800, Mr Eschen, a scended directly to Servoz; but our purpose was of a Dane, lost his life. In the spot which he pointed out, much more aspiring nature. After pausing a few mi- the snow appeared deeply crevassed; and to the most nutes, we commenced and completed a fatiguing ascent unpractised eye, it was evidently not the way up the of the now eternal snow, which was succeeded by a mountain. It was hard to believe that any one would heart-breaking slope of bare slaty débris, occupying us have ventured into such a place. together till forty minutes after ten o'clock. Again I have already mentioned the stone hovel on the sumanother slope of snow succeeded, and again another mit of the Buet, erected for the accommodation of the ascent of slaty fragments, which brought us, at a philosopher Pictet. I believe he made on this spot quarter past eleven, to the remains of the stone hovel many observations with the barometer, as well as of the philosopher Pictet, in which he used to take experiments on heat and radiation; the Buet is also shelter when overtaken by bad weather in this elevated alluded to by name, in a paper by him in the English desert. One more short slaty ridge, and a steep slope · Philosophical Transactions, concerning the measureof soft snow, brought us to the summit of the Buet, ment of an arch of the meridian, dated 1791. 10,154 English feet, according to De Saussure, above The steep and fatiguing slopes of slaty débris which the level of the sea, at half-past eleven, after a fatiguing I have mentioned before, are enriched with some of the walk of five hours from the place where we left the rarest of the Alpine plants. mules, and eight hours exactly from Chamouny. The In descending, we glissaded the greater part of the sun at half-past eleven was exactly over the Aiguille slopes of snow; but where we kept the track of our du Midi, as seen from hence. From this fine mountain- ascent, I was surprised to find that our footsteps, though summit we looked clear away over the summit of the very deeply impressed, were almost entirely effaced by Brever, and of the Aiguilles Rouges (which we had so the action of the sun. Our descent was very rapid, and often looked up to from Chamouny), to Mont Blanc, and varied with frequent falls; the ensuing glissading of his attendant Aiguilles in all their glory. Mont Blanc, which may, without care, be carried far beyond a joke. seen from this height, and at this distance, towered in So overpowering was the glare from the snow on the kingly state over all his vassals. There were some Buet, that I did not find a large goggling pair of green clouds about, but none to impede the view; nor was spectacles, together with a thick black crape veil, more there a breath of wind. The air, too, was quite mild; protection to the eyes than was necessary. but my feet now became excessively cold, from my We finally reached the spot where we had left our having been so long walking in the soft snow. The mules, below the Pierre de Bérard, at a quarter before mountain summits visible from hence are so numerous, three o'clock; that is, in an hour and three-quarters from that to mention them all would be to make a catalogue the summit of the mountain, it having taken us tive of a considerable portion of the Alps. Beyond the range hours to ascend the same distance. I continued my way of Mont Blanc, towards the west, far in the Taxentaise, on foot, leaving the guide and mules to follow all the way I saw very many undulating spowy summits, with a down, and had now ample leisure to admire the scenery light thrown over them that gave them the appearance of the valley we had ridden up in the morning, which of the coloured waves seen in a surface of mother-of-presents one of the wildest and most thoroughly picpearl ; in another direction, through a mountain gap, turesque scenes I ever beheld. Some of the rock and we got a peep of the Lake of Geneva. The Jura range, water scenes are scarcely to be exceeded for beauty and on the other side of the lake, was very distinct; so were grandeur. No one should omit, if possible, during a the summits of the Oberland Alps, and all the heights séjour at Chamouny, an excursion as far at least as quite round towards the Simplon. We were here, the Pierre de Bérard. although the air was perfectly calm, at a height to We arrived at the Chalets de Poyat at four o'clock, which the voice of the torrent did not reach; and the and I got back to Chamouny on my mulo at a quarter

before six. Thus the expedition from Chamouny to the and the woods, and can speak of nothing but May-day, and summit of the Buet, and back, occupies just about May-poles, and the young spring flowers. He will give an fifteen hours.

hour's description of the pleasures of breakfasting in the country on a fine summer morning, with open window look

ing out upon a bright green lawn, with the air breathing in THE GENIUS AND WRITINGS OF LEIGH HUNT. fresh and balmy, the sunlight streaming through the foliage, [From the Manchester Examiner.')

and casting its chequering shadows upon the favourite books Or all living English writers, there is not one towards and pictures with which the parlour walls are adorned ; whom there exists a more general feeling of kindliness and upon the table a few pansies freshly plucked, contrasting gratitude than Leigh Hunt. This friendly gratitude has well with the snow-white cloth ; and a bee humming about arisen from the peculiar characteristics of his writings from cup to cup, seeking to partake of the honey which she from their sympathy and genuine cordiality-their cheer- herself probably assisted to furnish. At another time, perful, hopeful tone-in short, their fulness to overflowing haps, when some calamity has overtaken yon, and affliction with that spirit which is best expressed by the beautiful lies heavy upon a household, he comes in the guise of an but neglected old English word loving-Kindness.' We old and tried friend of the family, with all a friend's priviknow of no writer who has done more to make hearths and leges; and sits by your hearth, and suggests many a tender homes happy by peopling them with pleasant thoughts; and solemn thought about death and immortality. His for he quickens us into a livelier consciousness of our

manner has more than its usual kindness; his voice sounds blessings, and communicates to our ordinary duties, and gravely, yet there is almost cheerfulness in its tone when the simple objects of our daily wayside walk, a freshness he says that the best part of what you loved still reand interest which it becomes a kind of grateful duty to mains, an indestructible possession- that although the him to acknowledge.

visible form be taken away, yet that was only lent for a The tendency of all that Leigh Hunt has written is to

season, whereas the love itself is immortal, and the concheerfulise existence. He reconciles ns to ourselves, draws sciousness of it will ever abide to strengthen your faith, off our minds from remote visions of some future possible and soothe you amid the stir and fever of life.' Or it good, or painful remembrances of the past, and fixes our may be that he speaks of “The Deaths of Little Children, attention upon the actual blessings and privileges about and then he almost makes you feel as if his true friend's us. He is one of the best teachers we know of that kind hand were pressing your own, as he goes on to tell you of contentment and gratitude which arises from a thank that those who have lost an infant are never, as it were, ful recognition of those minor joys by which all of us are

without an infant child--that the other children grow up more or less surrounded, and to the value of which most to manhood and womanhood, and suffer all the changes of us are by far too insensible. And then with what a

of mortality ; but this one alone is rendered an immortal delicate and fine touch he pierces our selfishness! In child ; for death has arrested it with his kindly harshness, what a kindly way he convinces us of our uncharitable and blessed it into an eternal image of youth and inno ness, and puts to rout our self-indulgent fallacies! With cence.' In the rough winter time again, when wind and what a jovial hilarity he banters us out of our morose

rain beat dark December,' he will tell you of ' A Day by the ness, and laughs at our ill-humour, until at last wo are Fire' which he had not long since--with all its home comashamed of our weakness, and determine to be wiser and forts and accompaniments—the pleasant hour before the better for the future! We never rose from a few hours' candles are lighted-the gazing meditatively into the fire perusal of any of his charming books, without a sense of the kettle whispering its faint under-song,' and the obligation to him for stimulating to a desire of generous cheerful tea-table with its joyous faces, and the pleasant activity those sympathies which habit and daily contact hours between tea-time and bed-time spent in the free too often render languid and inert. Everything that comes utterance of thought as it comes, with a little music perfrom his pen is refreshing, and full of good-will to all the haps, or the reading of some favourite passages to stimulate world. À belief in good, the recognition of universal the conversational powers of the circle ; while every now beauty, and a brotherly consideration for mistake and and then the rain rattled against the windows, and the circumstance,' will be found pervading every essay he has wind howled in such a way as to make everybody think of written. To minds disturbed, or set on edge by crosses the sea and the poor sailors, and people who have to be and disappointments, we know of no more effectual soother out of doors in such weather; and last of all, the quiet than a course of Leigh Hunt. His own buoyant spirit is half-hour after every one had retired but himself-when all a fine example of the impossibility of crushing the heart of around was silent, the cares of the day gone to sleep, and a true man, be his misfortunes and hardships ever so severe ; the fading embers reminding him where he should be: all and no man has suffered the rubs of fortune more bravely these, and a thousand things else, in-doors and out of doors, than he has done. A popular writer once spoke of him as

in books, in nature, and in men, he talks about in a way so 'the gray-headed boy whose heart can never grow old.' natural, easy, and colloquial-so marked by a pervading Those who are familiar with his writings will recognise the kindness of feeling-entering so heartily into all our tastes truthfulness of this remark, and remember how this per- and thoughts, and enlisting all the while so thoroughly our petual youthfulness of feeling shows itself, in a thousand sympathies, that we cannot but class him in the foremost different ways, throughout all his works.

rank of our most genial essayists, and place his writings Another winning peculiarity of Leigh Hunt's writings is among our choicest parlour window-seat books,' to be their frank, friendly, conversational tone-the pleasantly- taken up in the brief intervals of active and social life, sure egotistical and almost confidential manner in which he tells to find in them something which appeals to our most us every now and then of his own private notions and sen

cherished tastes, and meets with our immediate appretiments—so that we begin to fancy he is addressing ourselves ciation. in particular, and not his readers in general. There is such an easy, fireside-way about him, that it is like talking with an old intimate friend. He runs on from one theme to an IMPORTANCE OF HEALTH TO THE LABOURING CLASSES. other with the most sprightly exuberance--now discussing Of all the members of society, the labouring man is the with hearty sympathy the merits of Chaucer or Spenser, or most dependent. Health is his only wealth, his capital, some other old poet, and pointing out to us the beauty and his stock in trade. When disease attacks him, the

very true meaning of a favourite passage—now bringing out the source of his subsistence is dried up. He must earn his sentiment of an ancient classical story, or dwelling upon his daily bread by daily toil; and, unlike many who ocoupy a first impressions of the Arabian Nights' Entertainments-- higher position in society, he cannot do his work by deputy, then, perhaps, entering into a curious speculation regarding nor postpone the doing of it till his health is re-established.

persons one would wish to have seen,' Shakspeare, for in- Day by day the expense of sickness is added to the loss of stance, or Petrarch, or Mahomet, or Cromwell, or Sir

Philip income ; and too often he recovers only to find his place Sydney-or, in a more gossiping vein, relating some charac-occupied by another, and the first hours of convalescence teristic anecdote of Cowley, or Pope, or Lady Mary Wortley spent in an anxious, and too often a fruitless, search after Montagu, or Colley Cibber, or Mrs Centlivre; or reporting employment.--Dr Guy. snatches of racy court scandal from the diary of Samuel Pepys. Then he will get into a philosophical humour, and discourse of the slow rise of the most rational opinions," Published by W. & R. CHAMBERS, High Street, Edinburgh. Also

sold by D. CHAMBERS, 98 Müller Street, Glasgow; W. & Oar, and quote wise and stately sentences from Lord Bacon's

147 Strand, and Amen Corner, London; and J. M'GLASHAN, Essays' or Milton's ‘Areopagitica.' On another occasion he 21 D'Olier Street, Dublin.-Printed by W. and R. CHAMBERS, comes to us when he is runnivg over with news of the fields Edinburgh.




No. 189. New SERIES.


PRICE 11d.

in adopting monarchy at all as a form of government, THE PROTECTOR.

a people necessarily expresses its willingness to bear the The fate of Cromwell, as a man of history, is singular. risks which families run in the course of nature, of After a lapse of time which seems more than sufficient presenting imbecile or evil-spirited representatives. A to have dissipated prejudice, and silenced the outeries of much honester way of describing the Revolution were party-after his character had long found what seemed to say that the people came to lose all patience with the to be its true level-a new agitation arises, and a revo- king's infatuation, and frightened him away without lution is called for in public opinion regarding him. ever considering the constitutional bearing of the act. • The Protector, a Vindication,' is the title of a volume One-half of the errors of history are after-thoughtsby Dr Merle D'Aubigné of Geneva, written in defence philosophical accounts of things that proceeded from and praise of this remarkable individual.* It was origi- instinctive impulses, or took their main character from nally intended as an article for a review, but grew into accidents small and great. a book. We have in it no new facts regarding the The outline of Cromwell's life given in this book is Protector, but a considerable amount of fresh eloquence meagre; but it is enough, with the arguments accomin showing him up as a great man. Dr Merle D'Au. panying it, to complete the extinction of the hypobigné, being satisfied that Cromwell was a sincere lover crisy theory regarding the Protector. The profound of evangelical Christianity, and anxious to promote the cunning so long attributed to him now vanishes like welfare of England on that principle, follows up the darkness before light. There cannot, we think, be any general line lately assumed by Mr Carlyle; so that the longer a doubt that Cromwell was not only a man of judgment of the last two centuries may on this point vast capacity and energy-a thoroughly great man in be said to be undergoing a very serious challenge. the ordinary meaning of the term—but an entirely wellThere is something interesting in thus seeing a new meaning man towards his country, aiming primarily at light attempted to be thrown upon a character which the establishment of the religious and civil liberties of has so long stood among the shades of history.

the people, and only obliged to take power upon himMr Carlyle's love for Cromwell seems mainly to self, because there was no other ready way of accomspring from the admiration which this author bears plishing that end. There was even a true humanity in for the earnest. Oliver was a man of strong views Cromwell, albeit obscured and often set entirely aside and profound convictions, who went resolutely through by his religious delusions and his views of policy. In his work. This is enough for the eccentric philosopher all these respects it is profound injustice to the Proof Chelsea. The present author is led by a different tector to compare him with Bonaparte. They take passion; he sees in Cromwell the arch opponent of the analogous places in their several chapters of history ; Roman church in the seventeenth century, and for this but there was one simple but decisive difference in cause venerates him. To make all square to this point, their characters—the one was a wholly selfish man, the we fear he scarcely gives a fair account of the religious other not so. Beyond this, however, we suspect that principles of the two first Stuarts. These he makes the vindication of Cromwell cannot be justly carried. out as the friends of the papal system ; a somewhat For one thing, it appears in glaring colours throughodd position, in the first place, for the almost victim out Cromwell's life—and no eloquence of Mr Carlyle or of the Gunpowder Conspiracy; and in the second, for Dr Merle D'Aubigné can extenuate the matter-that him who had his head cut off because he never could he would do any amount of evil that good might come. exactly give up the Church of England. Even in the The execution of the king was an example. His praccase of Charles II., one would say it was a somewhat tice with the Irish was to the same effect. When he unalarming friendship for Romanism, which never landed there to restore order, he had to consider the could confess itself till the deathbed scene had arrived. plan that ought to be followed for the purpose. 'Should We should rather think that the Stuarts simply chanced he employ a few weeks,' says our Genevan doctor, 'with to live at a time when the popular spirit was working the sacrifice of 5000 men, or several years, with the loss strongly towards more liberal forms of policy, as well as of perhaps 20,000? Having weighed everything, he to more zealous views of religion; and that placing decided for the hand of iron. That hand is never themselves,, as is very natural for the possessors of amiable ; but yet there are cases in which it is salupower, in opposition to this spirit, they unavoidably tary.' This is the way in which an evangelical minister fell a sacrifice. As for there being anything peculiarly of our day commences an apology for the most horrible bad in the spirit of this family, it seems a vulgar way butcheries on record in our history during the last five of accounting for the events, and, moreover, a somewhat centuries. The page cannot, he admits, be read without equivocal vindication of their dethronement, seeing that, emotion and pain, but it presents this great man to us

as following the most skilful course to arrive at a prompt * Oliver and Boyd, Edinburgh. 1847.

and universal pacification? Can Dr Merle D'Aubigné

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