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from the benches that support the tain. Already, things have very likely honourable members from. Cotton taken a decisive turn, and by the time burgh and Calicopolis. But who has this letter reaches you, the doings of stood up as for altars and fires ? I the Assembly will have enabled you hope, ero this reaches you, the ques- to conjecture whether the nation is tion will be creditably answered. I going by the long way, or the short hope the Christianity of England will cut, to Henry Fifth. As all will be not die without a struggle. I suspect stale before you can read what I now it will be of no use, but I look yet for write, I will not presume to predict some John of Gaunt in the House of the immediate results; but I am sure Lords. Imagine him, my Basil : that the assembling of such a set as “ This sceptred isle,

have been returned to the legislature, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, would be enough to blow up the

this England, Renowned for her deeds as far from home Dominican, pastor and bishop, poet

strongest government on earth. Jew, (For Christian service and true chivalry) and butcher, all in their tricoloured As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry

sashes-was there ever such a fullOf the world's ransom, blessed Mary's blown tulip-bed of liberty, equality,

Son; This land of such dear souls, this dear, and fraternity! dear land,

The announcement of several clerDear for her reputation through the gymen as members of the Assembly world,

reminds me that there has been some Is now-pawn'd out to Jews.sickly sentiment among us, about the

This is what ought to be said ; and piety that has been displayed in this I look for it, if not from lords spiritual, revolution. In Boston we are fathen even from lords temporal. But voured with some strange types of surely it would well become the pri- religious enthusiasm ; in fact, the mate's mouth! Of course, it would type of Christianity that prevails do little good; but then the religion among usis peculiarly our own, and like of England would fall at least dra- our improvements in machinery, dematically. It would make a picture serves the proverbial nart of a “ Bosquite as good as the death of Chatham. ton notion.” Emerson, who is now Do you remember the lawn-sleeves in illuminating England, may give you that picture? The bishops are “in at some idea of what I mean ; and a the death,”—but nothing more. queer story that is told of one of his

But another steamer has come in disciples, may furnish you with an exwith news; and France is all the planation of the fact, that some men talk. The elections are over; the see religion in the sacking of the TuilModérés have triumphed ; the National' eries. The youth was at the Opera Assembly has convened, and the Pro- to see a celebrated danseuse, and exvisional Government is at an end. cited general attention by his someVive Lamartine! Of course the stock what extraordinary applause. His of the republic takes a rise, but enthusiasm so transported him, that holders are not firm. The bloodshed the emotions of his heart became upat Rouen, the émeutes at Elbeuf and consciously audible. As the dancer Limoges, and the threats of the Com- began to whirl, he cried, “Ah, that is munistes, do not precisely inspire confi- poetry!As she stretched her toe to the dence. Still, we are so far surprised, and horizontal, he exclaimed, That's divithose who have predicted favourably nity!" but when she proceeded to an for France grow a little more sanguine evolution that forced the ladies to pay in their hopes. I am glad to say that attention to their fans, he burst into the Louis Blanc has no sympathizers climax—That's religion !" If this be here. All are convinced that Lamar- caricature, the Emersonians richly detine will make the best of it, and that, serve it. They are laughed at even in

he fails, the republic will be suffo. Boston. But they are not alone in thinkcated and expire in a stench. For ing well of the piety of Paris, and arone, it seems to me that Lamartine is guing from it that there will be no reign not bad enough to encounter success. of terror; as if there was not vastly fully the frantic malice of his opponents, more show of religion in the first reand that their eventual success is cer- volution! If there is an archbishop

of Paris now, there was formerly a palmer. He bathed in Siloa with enTalleyrand for high-priest and master thusiasm, and almost expired of feeling of ceremonies. Oh, but they rejoin under the venerable olive-trees of with a story! When the blouses were Gethsemane. gutting the palace of its pictures and How Frenchy-how intensely marbles, they found, among other French! mass in the morning, and works of art, an image of the Crucified. weeping and sighing,-a revel before As a blouseman was about to dash it nightfall, and desperate gaming. And to atoms, there was a cry, "Save it- this man to be the Cromwell of the save the great teacher of fraternity!" commonwealth ? He could hardly The crucifix was accordingly saved, have been the Milton, thougb it would and borne about the streets amid have been more becoming. And what songs and curses, and, very appropri- will be bis career? It is a pity Lady ately, with lanterns and torches." Hester Stanhope was not permitted to “Ah, that's religion!" says your Emer- consult his stars in full when he met sonian. So, when recreant priests her on Mount Lebanon, when she baptize a liberty-pole, or join å pro- praised his handsome foot and arched cession of blouses, with crosses and instep, and told him he should be very censers, that's divinity, at least. Was important in the history of the world. ever hypocrisy so revolting ! The Ah, how certainly he will yet lament, nauseous mockery has its only parallel if he does not lament already, the fulin the writings of George Sand, who filment of the oracle ! Such weird makes a favourite hero and heroine sisters as Lady Hester generally tell betake themselves to an adulterous only half, leaving the rest to imaginabed, after duly reciting their prayers, tion and to time. But whether this in which the absent husband is very Phaeton, who has grasped the reins, affectionately remembered. If a re- is to set the world on fire; whether volution thus begun is not destined to he, in turn, is only to try the game of go speedily through all the ripening Humpty-Dumpty and to fall; or wheand rotting of a godless anarchy, it is ther, even as I write this, he be not to be accounted for only on the prin- already under the foot of Louis Blanc ciple that “ He who is Eternal can and his Communistes,--what probabiliwait." The old scene at Notre Dame ties or improbabilities shall aid my conmay not be actually revived, and the jecture? This thing only will I venBible may not be literally dragged ture as my surmise, though not my through Paris again tied to an ass's hope, that kings shall reign again in tail; but the undisguised atrocities of France, as if Lamartine never lived: tbe first revolution may, after all, be that tricoloured cockades shall be exceeded by the smooth-faced blas- made no more, and lilies be cultivated phemies of that which has already de- again: that there will soon be longings graded the world's Redeemer into the for a sight of the drapeau blanc, and patron saint of insurrection, and the a prince of the sons of St. Louis: and father of infidel fraternity.

that, fat as he is, and Bourbon as he Poor Lamartine! Is this the man, is, and half Austrian as he has made my Basil, whom you once likened to himself, Henry Duke of Bourdeaux Chateaubriand ? Quantum mutatus! will soon be known as Henri LE I knew him, till lately, only as a poet DESIRÉ. and a traveller. He certainly went Yours ever, my dear Basil, to Palestine with the spirit of






I was always an early riser. Happy Camp, that you planned an excursion the man who is ! Every morning, with my father to C—Castle.” day comes to him with a virgin's ! “ Never depend upon a whimsical love, full of bloom, and purity, and I must be in London to-night.” freshness. The youth of nature is “ And return to-morrow ?contagious, like the gladness of a “I know not when," said my uncle, happy child.

I doubt if any man gloomily; and he was silent for some can be called "old" so long as he moments. At length, leaning less is an early riser, and an early lightly on my arm, he continued walker. And oh, youth !--take my Young man, you have pleased me, I word of it,-youth in dressing-gown love that open saucy brow of yours, on and slippers, dawdling over breakfast which nature has written Trust me.' at noon, is a very decrepid ghastly I love those clear eyes that look man image of that youth which sees the sun manfully in the face. I must know blush over the mountains, and the dews more of you—much of you. You must sparkle upon blossoming hedgerows. come and see me some day or other in

Passing by my father's study, I your ancestor's ruined keep." was surprised to see the windows un “Come! that I will. And you shall closed_surprised more, on looking in, show me the old tower—” to see him bending over his books “ And the traces of the outfor I had never before known him works,” cried my uncle, flourishing study t'll after the morning meal. bis stick. Students are not usually early risers, “And the pedigree" for students, alas ! whatever their age, “Ay, and your great-great-grandare rarely young. Yes; the great father's armour, which he wore at work must be getting on in serious Marston Moor—" earnest. It was no longer dalliance “Yes, and the brass plate in the with learning : this was work. church, uncle."

I passed through the gates into the “ The deuce is in the boy! Come road. A few of the cottages were here--come here; I've three minds to giving signs of returning life; but it break your head, sir !" was not yet the hour for labour, and “It is a pity somebody had not no “Good morning, sir,” greeted me broken the rascally printer's, before he on the road.

Suddenly at a turn, had the impudence to disgrace us by which an overhanging beech-tree had having a family, uncle.” before concealed, I came full upon my Captain Roland tried hard to frown, Uncle Roland.

but he could not. “Pshaw!” said he, “What! you, sir ? So early ? Hark, stopping, and taking snuff. “The the clock is striking five!”

world of the dead is wide; why should “Not later! I have walked well the ghosts jostle us?” for a lame man. It must be more than “ We can never escape the ghosts, four miles to and back."

uncle. They haunt us always. We “ You have been to : not on cannot think or act, but the soul of business? No soul would be up." some man, who has lived before, points

“ Yes, at inns there is always some the way. The dead never die, espeone up. Ostlers never sleep! I have cially since" been to order my humble chaise and “Since what, boy ? you speak well.” pair. I leave you to-day, nephew." “ Since our great ancestor intro

“Ah, uncle, we have offended you. duced printing,” said I majestically. It was my folly—that cursed print—" My uncle whistled “ Malbrook s'en

“ Pooh!” said my uncle, quickly. va-t-en guerre." “ Offended me, boy! I defy you!” I had not the heart to plague him and he pressed-my hand roughly. further.

“ Yet this sudden determination ! “Peace!” said I, creeping cauIt was but yesterday, at the Roman tiously within the circle of the stick.


“ No! I forewarn you—”

Peace,” said my uncle, smiling. “Peace! and describe to me my “But you must come and judge for little cousin, your pretty daughter- yourself." for pretty I am sure she is.”


Uncle Roland was gone. Before he now, by the calm power of genius, went, he was closeted for an hour with they seemed of themselves to fall into my father, who then accompanied him harmony and system—the unconto the gate; and we all crowded round scious humility with which the scholar him as he stepped into his chaise. exposed the stores of a laborious When the Captain was gone, I tried life ;-all combined to rebuke my own to sound my father as to the cause of restlessness and ambition, while they so sudden a departure. But my fa- filled me with a pride in my father, ther was impenetrable in all that relat- which saved my wounded egotism ed to his brother's secrets. Whether from a pang. Here, indeed, was one or not the Captain had ever confided of those books which embrace an exto him the cause of his displeasure istence; like the Dictionary of Bayle, with his son,—à mystery which or the History of Gibbon, or the Fasti much haunted me, ---my father was Hellenici of Clinton,-it was a book mute on that score, both to my to which thousands of books had conmother and myself. For two or three tributed, only to make the originality days, however, Mr. Caxton was evi- of the single mind more bold and dently unsettled. He did not even clear. Into the furnace all vessels take to his great work; but walked of gold, of all ages, had been cast, much alone, or accompanied only by but from the mould came the new the duck, and without even a book coin, with its single stamp. And in his hand. But by degrees the happily the subject of the work did scholarly habits returned to him; my not forbid to the writer the indulgence mother mended his pens, and the work of his naire, peculiar irony of humour went on.

—so quiet, yet so profound. My faFor my part, left much to myself, ther's book was the “History of Huespecially in the mornings, I began to man Error.” It was, therefore, the muse restlessly over the future. Un- moral history of mankind, told with grateful that I was, the happiness of truth and earnestness, yet with an home ceased to content me. I heard arch unmalignant smile. Sometimes, afar the roar of the great world, and indeed, the smile drew tears. But in roved impatient by the shore.

all true humour lies its germ, pathos. At length, one evening, my father, Oh! by the goddess Moria or Folly, with some modest hums and ha's, and but he was at home in his theme ! an unaffected blush on his fair fore. He viewed man first in the savage head, gratified a prayer frequently state, preferring in this the positive urged on him, and read me some por- accounts of voyagers and travellers, tions of “ the great Work.”. I cannot to the vague myths of antiquity, and express the feelings this lecture the dreams of speculators on created—they were something akin pristine state. From Australia and to awe. For the design of this book Abyssinia, he drew pictures of morwas so immense—and towards its tality unadorned, as lively as if he execution, a learning so vast and had lived amongst Bushmen and various had administered—that it savages all his life. Then he crossed seemed to me

as if a spirit had over the Atlantic, and brought before opened to me a new world, which had you the American Indian, with his always been before my feet, but which noble nature, struggling into the my own human blindness had hither. dawn of civilization, when friend to concealed from me. The un- Penn cheated him out of his birthspeakable patience with which all right, and the Anglo-Saxon drove these materials had been collected him back into darkness. He showed year after year—the case with which both analogy and contrast between


this specimen of our kind and others and purity of breed, with the Celt equally apart from the extremes of whose blood, mixed by a thousand the savage state and the cultured. channels, dictates from Paris the manThe Arab in his tent, the Teuton in ners and revolutions of the world. He his forests, the Greenlander in his compared the Norman in his ancient boat, the Fin in his rein-deer car. Scandinavian home, with that wonder Up sprang the rude gods of the north, of intelligence and chivalry which he and the resuscitated Druidism, pass- became, fused imperceptibly with the ing from its earliest templeless belief Frank, the Goth, and the Anglointo the latter corruption of crommell Saxon. He compared the Saxon, staand idol. Up sprang, by their side, tionary in the land of Horsa, with the the Saturn of the Phænicians, the colonist and civilizer of the globe, as he mystic Budh of India, the elemen- becomes, when he knows not through tary deities of the Pelasgian, the what channels, French, Flemish, Naith and Serapis of Egypt, the Danish, Welsh, Scotch, and Irish-he Ormuzd of Persia, the Bel of Babylon, draws his sanguine blood. And out the winged genii of the graceful from all these speculations, to which I Etruria. How nature and life shaped do such hurried and scanty justice, he the religion; how the religion shaped drew the blessed truth, that carries the manners; how, and by what in- hope to the land of the Caffre, the hut fluences, some tribes were formed for of the Bushman—that there is nothing progress; how others were destined in the flattened skull and the ebon asto remain stationary, or be swallowed pect that rejects God's law, improveup in war and slavery by their breth- ment; that by the same principle which ren, was told with a precision clear raises the dog, the lowest of the aniand strong as the voice of Fate. · mals in its savage state, to the highest Not only an antiquarian and philolo. after man,-viz. admixture of racegist, but an anatomist and philosopher you can elevate into nations of majes--my father brought to bear on all ty and power the outcasts of humanithese grave points, the various specu- ty, now your compassion or your lations involved in the distinctions of scorn. But when my father got into race. He showed how race in perfec- the marrow of his theme—when, quittion is produced, up to a certain point, ting these preliminary discussions, he by admixture: how all mixed races fell pounce amongst the would-be wishave been the most intelligent-how, dom of the wise ; when he dealt with in proportion as local circumstance civilization itself, its schools, and porand religious faith permitted the early ticoes, and academies; when he bared fusion of differing tribes, races im- the absurdities couched beneath the colproved and quickened into the refine- leges of the Egyptians, and the Symments of civilization. He tracked the posia of the Greeks;—when he showed progress and dispersion of the Hel- that even in their own favourite purlenes, from their mythical cradle in suit of metaphysics, the Greeks were Thessaly; and showed how those who children; and in their own more pracsettled near the sea-shores, and were tical region of politics, the Romans compelled into commerce and inter- were visionaries and bunglers;-when, course with strangers, gave to Greece following the stream of error through her marvellous accomplishments in arts the middle ages, he quoted the pueriland letters—the flowers of the ancient ities of Agrippa, the crudities of Carworld. How others, like the Spartans, dan; and passed, with his calm smile, dwelling evermore in a camp, on guard into the salons of the chattering wits against their neighbours, and rigidly of Paris in the eighteenth century, oh, preserving their Dorian purity of ex- then his irony was that of Lucian, traction, contributed neither artists, nor sweetened by the gentle spirit of Eraspoets, nor philosophers, to the golden mus. For not even here was my fatreasure-house of mind. He took the ther's satire of the cheerless and Meold race of the Celts, Cimry, or Cim- phistophelian school. From this record merians. He compared the Celt who, of error he drew forth the grand eras as in Wales, the Scottish Highlands, of truth. He showed how earnest men in Bretagne, and in uncomprehended never thinkin vain, though their Ireland, retains his old characteristics thoughts may be errors. He proved

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