should be saved from the flames. He founded a college at Durham for the more convenient education of the northern English youth. The library of archbishop Usher was purchased and presented by him to the university of Dublin; and he presented valuable manuscripts to the university of Oxford, of which he was chancellor. The learned Usher was pensioned and honoured by him. Milton was the corresponding foreign secretary to his council. Hartlib, now remembered only as the friend of Milton, a native of Poland, whose life was devoted to one of the greatest interests of mankind-education, Andrew Marvell, Cudworth Pell, were pensioned, employed, or patronised by him. A secretaryship is said to have been offered by him to the famous sophist of Malmesbury. Waller was his kinsman and friend, and his praise lives in the verses of Milton, Waller, and Dryden. "The drama, the most popular and enchanting of the fine arts, was condemned not so much by the protector as by the spirit of the age. He is described by two royalist chroniclers of the time as a great lover of music, and liberal to all who cultivated that and any other art. It is apparent from a conversation with him recorded by Whitelock that he was no enemy to the accomplishments and recreations of social intercourse. The arts cling with a parasite adhesion to the luxuries of a court, and upon the ruin of Charles I. they, for the most part, expired or fled. There are therefore but few painters, and no sculptors or architects. Robert Walker, a contemporary of Vandyck, was Cromwell's chief painter, and made several portraits of him, some few of which escaped the poor vengeance of the restoration upon his image and his remains. The engravers Blondeau, Violet, and especially Simon, were employed and distinguished. The achievements of the protector and the commonwealth, which it was the custom to commemorate by medals, gave opportunity and occupation to the graver. "Cromwell had the virtues and affections of private and domestic life. As a son, husband, father, friend, his heart was full of tenderness, generosity, and faith." British Colonial Library. By R. M. MARTIN. Vol. III. Southern Africa. 18mo. Mortimer. THE Cape of Good Hope, though not the richest, is one of the most thriving of our British colonies. Its superficial area is not less than 200,000 square miles, and its coast line is upwards of 1200 miles. It was first discovered by Bartholomew Diaz, in 1487, and called by him Cabo dos Tormentos; but the sanguine hopes of happy results from the discovery induced John II. of Portugal to call it Cabo de Bonne Esperanze. Ten years after, Vasco de Gama doubled the promontory, and reached Malabar. The English took formal possession of the Cape in king James's name, in 1620; but, as no settlement was formed by them, the Dutch government in 1650 sent out a small colony, and retained possession of the post for 180 years. The independent feeling induced by the French revolution infected even the distant colony of the Cape; and they would, probably, have succeeded in establishing their independence, if the British government, in 1795, had not taken up the matter and sent an armed force, who obliged the people to capitulate. The Cape then became an English colony; but at the peace of Amiens it was again given up to the Dutch. In 1806, our government, seeing the indispensability of the possession of the Cape to the maritime interests of England, sent out a force under Sir David Baird and Sir H. Popham, which soon obliged the colonists to surrender in favour of the rights of England. Since 1806 the Cape has been a British colony. Of all the governors who have had the management of the Cape none seems entitled to so high praise as the Earl of Caledon, whose firm but temperate and Christian-like government has contributed more than any other favouring cause to alleviate the miseries and improve the condition of the native and colonial population. We make a short extract on the general geography of the Cape, as well to furnish information as to give some general notion of the work before us :"Southern Africa is generally composed of chains of lofty mountains and intervening plains and valleys, extending east and west, excepting one range beginning at Table Bay, opposite to Cape Point, and stretching to the northward along the western coast about 200 miles, which is as far as Olifant's River. "The first great chain running east and west has, along the southern coast, a belt of undulating land, varying from ten to thirty miles in width, indented by several bays, and intersected by numerous streamlets; the soil is rich, the hills are well wooded, and the climate equable and mild, from its proximity to the ocean. "The next great chain is the Zwaarte Bergen, or Black Mountains, more lofty and rugged than the coast chain (in some places consisting of double and treble ranges), and divided from it by an interval from ten to twenty miles wide, the surface of which is very varied, in some places barren hills predominating, in others naked and arid plains of clay, termed by the colonists the karroo, while widely interspersed are patches of well watered, fertile, and beautiful grounds. “The third range is the Nieuwveld's Bergen. Between these mountains and the second range is the Great Karroo, or Desert, an elevated steppe or terrace, nearly 300 miles in length from E. to W., eighty in breadth, and 1000 feet above the sea, exhibiting a clayey surface, thinly sprinkled over with sand, studded with occasional isolated hills, with here and there a few stunted shrubs which seldom receive a friendly shower. "Along the western coast the country also ascends in successive terraces, the most elevated of which (the Roggeveldt) unites with the last-mentioned chain of mountains, the Nieuwveldt. Indeed the Roggeveldt Bergen range may be said to commence in nearly 30 S. latitude, running nearly south for two and a half degrees, when its course is bent to the E. and subsequently to the N. E., until the range reaches Delagoa Bay, that part of it forming the north boundary of the Great Karroo, being termed Nieuwvelds Bergen. "At the most southern extremity there are several eminences, the heights and names of which are Table Mountain, feet 3,582; Devil's Peak, 3,315; Lion's Head, 2,760; Lion's Rump, 1,143; Muyzenberg, about 2,000; Elsey Peak, 1,200; Simon's Berg, or Signal Hill, 2,500; Paulusberg, 1,200; Constantia, 3,200; Cape Peak, 1,000; Hanglip Cape, 1,800 feet. "I rode to the summit of Cape Peak in 1825. The surface was covered with piles of huge stones, loosely thrown together, as if giants had been at play. The cliff was so perpendicular as to prevent my descent, except at some distance from the point; but I had an opportunity of sailing almost underneath this singular promontory in his Majesty's schooner Albatross, in 1823, when we ran inside the "Bellows Rock," on our passage from Table to Simon's Bay. I scarcely know whether my feelings were more excited in the latter situation, or when viewing the vast expanse of the Indian and Atlantic Oceans from the wild and desolate extremity of Southern Africa. "But the most conspicuous feature of these lofty ranges is Table Mountain, the north front of which, directly facing Cape Town, presents nearly a horizontal line of two miles in length, rising to the height of 3,582 feet above the level of Table Bay, with a plain at the summit of about ten acres in extent. In front are two wings-the Devil's Mountain, 3,315, and the Lion's Head, 2,760 feet, which evidently at one time formed a continuation of the table, the summits being washed away by torrents and the crumbling hand of time, the base is still attached to the "Table" at a considerable elevation. The Devil's Mountain is broken into irregular points, but the upper part of the Lion's Head is a solid mass of stone, rounded and fashioned like a work of art, and resembling, it is thought, in some points of view, the dome of St. Paul's, placed on a high cone-shaped hill. "This is Mr. Barrow's opinion, but though I visited Table Tay several times, and rode on horseback to the summit of the "Table," I could not see the resemblance alluded to. The ascent on horseback I was induced to attempt from hearing so much of the difficulty of the enterprise. Owing (under Providence) to the kindness of a Dutch gentleman, who lent me one of his besttrained horses and accompanied me, I safely accomplished the undertaking. Sometimes the road or path wound round a shelving mountain, or along the verge of a precipice where there was not room for two animals to pass, and down whose fearful chasms I durst not look. At other times it lay across huge loose rocks, adown and up whose steep and slippery sides my noble steed trod with the steadiness and security of a chamois. Frequently was I obliged to grasp his neck when clambering up these dangerous precipices, where a false step would have hurled horse and rider to the bottom of yawning ravines, if perchance they had not been intercepted mid-way by some impending rock, and dashed to atoms in descending from ledge to ledge. But when I gained the summit, and sat astride on my horse nearly 4,000 feet above Cape Town, the perils of the ascent were forgotten; well might I exclaim with the immortal bard, "How fearful And dizzy 'tis to cast one's eyes so low! The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, The murmuring surge, That on the unnumbered idle pebbles chafes, Cannot be heard so high." In fact the fishermen did not appear so large as mice; they were mere black dots on the minute tracery of lines which Cape Town exhibited. The descent was more perilous than the ascent, as the "table cloth" was spreading rapidly. Ladies have ascended to the top of the mountain from the cleft or gorge at Cape Town. "The bold face of Table Mountain is supported by a number of projecting buttresses that rise out of the plains, and fall in with the front a little higher than midway from the base. The east side is the most elevated, and some points are estimated at 4,000 feet; the west side, along the sea shore, is rent into deep chasms topped by many pointed masses. About four miles to the southward, the elevation of the mountain is diminished by terraces, the lowest of which communicates with the chain that extends the whole length of the peninsula. "On first viewing this singular-looking mountain from the bay, it appears like the ruined walls of a gigantic fortress-the front divided into three sections, a curtain flanked by two bastions; the former is separated from the left bastion by a deep chasm, which is about three quarters of a mile in length; the perpendicular cheeks at the foot 1,000 feet high, and the angle of descent forty-five degrees. At the entrance the chasm is about eighty feet wide; but it gradually converges until it is not more than a few feet at the portal, which opens on the extensive flat summit. Cape Town, built immediately at the foot of Table Mountain, along the shores of Table Bay, on a plain which rises with an easy ascent towards the mountain, is regularly constructed, with straight and parallel streets intersecting each other at right angles, and shaded with elm or oak trees; the houses chiefly of red brick or stone, of a good size, and generally with a stoup, or terrace, before the door, shaded with trees, beneath which the English as well as Dutch inhabitants delight to lounge by day, sheltered from the fervid rays of the sun, or to inhale the freshness of the evening breeze. "The population of the metropolis of South Africa is at present more than 20,000, of whom upwards of 10,000 are white inhabitants-the majority being Dutch, or of Dutch descent. With the exception of Sydney, New South Wales, there is a more English appearance about Cape Town than any colonial station I have visited. The squares are well laid out, the streets extremely clean, the public edifices numerous and substantial. Throughout the week there is a continued busy hum of industry; and, on the Sabbath morn, the melody of the church going bell, and the groups of well-dressed individuals flocking to their respective places of worship, may readily induce the traveller to forget that he is on the southernmost extremity of Africa. "The Castle, situate on the left of the town (entering from Table Bay), is a strong fortification commanding the anchorage, and, if well defended, capable of successful resistance against any force which may be brought against it. The fortress is pentagonal, with a broad fosse and regular outworks. It contains within its walls most of the public offices, and barracks for 1,000 men. There are other works defending Cape Town. Fort Knokke, on the east, is connected with the castle by a rampart called the sea-lines; and further east is Craig's tower and battery. On the west side, and surrounding the Lion's Rump, are Rogge, Amsterdam, and Chavonne batteries, all bearing upon the anchorage. The entrance of the bay is commanded by a battery, called the Mouillé. The colonists are indebted to the paternal sway of the Earl Caledon for the laying down of hydraulic pipes, by means of which a plentiful supply of excellent water is furnished to every part of the town, and ships' boats are supplied at the landing place with a beverage which, even after many months keeping at sea, I found equal to that of the Thames." Mr. Martin's work, so far as we have had leisure to examine it, is well worthy of public notice. The Author has not, by these smaller publications, injured the reputation which his larger work on the colonies has so justly won for him. Notes of a Ramble through France, Italy, Switzerland, &c. By a Lover of the Picturesque. Hamilton, Adams, and Co. THIS volume is respectably written, in so far as mere composition is concerned, but there is nothing but words in it. There is, as Falstaff would have said, "a most plentiful lack" both of incident and of sentiment. The work is made up of the most common-place circumstances-of the merest trifles. What could have induced the author to "go to press " we cannot divine. We should think, however, the success of this effort at authorship will not be such as to encourage him to make a second attempt "in a hurry." Diary of a Desennuyée. 2 Vols. 8vo. Colburn. We have often in society heard the question asked "who wrote the Diary of a Desennuyée?" and with such empressement that we were led to suppose ere we read the book that it must be a second Waverley. The work is not entirely without merit. Many of the lady's remarks on society are caustic and satirical, and she is evidently in her own circle a person of distinguished abilities. It is still very questionable whether the authoress would add to her private reputation by the abandonment of her literary incognito. The first volume is chiefly an account of the gay widow's London season; the second describes her introduction to the beau monde of Paris. The French fashionables must be pre-eminently silly people, if they are half so silly as those represented by the Desennuyée. Such books as those before us will we suppose always obtain the support of a certain class who prefer namby-pamby common-place and scandal to the genuine productions of the imagination and the reviewer has fully discharged his duty by entering his protest against the whole system. A short time ago the Quarterly Review passed a sweeping censure on the novels of France: it would not be difficult to write an article equally severe and more to the point on the novels of our own country. We may perhaps revert to the subject. A Trip to Rome at Railway Speed. By T. BARLow. 428. Hamilton and Adams. 18mo. pp. As we have before, in reviewing Cooper's Switzerland, deprecated the practice of fast travelling, we need say nothing on the score in noticing a work whose writer boasts in the preface that the same tour (up the Rhine and through Wertemburg and Bavaria and across the Tyrolese Alps into northern Italy and so to Rome, returning by Milan and over the Simplon through Switzerland and France) has never been accomplished in so short a time. To have done all this in two months may be a subject of congratulation to a private individual whose time of leisure is limited, but when an author writes for public instruction something more is expected than the hurried scribblings of a diary written in a caliche or a diligence. We must not, however, be illnatured with the author of this volume. His aim has not been very ambitious. As an easy dégagée kind of narrative this book deserves some little attention, and the hints given about travelling expenses are occasionally very good. In order to give the reader a notion of the author's style of description we extract a portion of the chapter on Venice. "August 7th. Thomas Moore has beautifully written as follows :— "If you would save some dreams of youth From the torpedo touch of truth, And all ere long will be at rest The dead sure rest of desolation." "Poetically beautiful and strictly correct are the lines above quoted; though, when we first looked out upon the view from the dining-hall of our hotel, we thought that the desolation of Venice had been too much talked of and written about. The dining hall is a very large, lofty, airy room. It is adorned by several fine casts from the antique and some original marble busts of great merit. Two, the laughing philosopher and the lachrymose one, are worthy of a conspicuous place in any of the celebrated collections on the continent. From the windows of the hall which look upon the harbour and quay, once crowded with the vessels and merchandize of all quarters of the globe, very few vessels are now to be seen. A solitary man of war, stationedt here more for appearance' sake than ought else by the Austrian government, the Trieste steamer, and a few merchantmen, now indicate that Venice is still a port; and the swarm of country boats, which arrive every morning with cargoes of fruit and agricultural produce, prove that Venice imports the necessaries of life for the consumption of its inhabitants: more cannot be now said of the once proud queen of the Adriatic and its departed mercantile glory. On the quay a busy scene is yet enacted, especially in the cool of the morning. The dealers in fruit, and the water-carriers with their shrill cry of aqua, aqua fresca, keep up a continual tumult, and give an appearance of business on a REDUCED Scale. A continual stream of persons throughout the day pass and repass on their way to and from the place of St. Mark's, which is the Regent |
