THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 ^ 
 
 I / 
 
 r- [•
 
 T\yO DECADES 
 
 AND 
 
 A LUSTRUM.
 
 TWO DECADES 
 
 AND 
 
 A LUSTKUM. 
 
 By C. G. wade. 
 
 SUNSET OF TEE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 By "JINGLING JOHNNIE." 
 
 4 
 
 (JUNIUS JUNIOR.) 
 
 fe<^_^P>«S 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 MDCCCLXXVII.
 
 5105 
 
 Dedicated 
 
 TO 
 
 Her Imperial Majesty 
 The Empress of Austria axd Queex of Hungary. 
 
 It R-as said by the old monkish ^joct — 
 
 " Bella gerant alii, tu Felix Austria mibes." 
 
 It was well said, " Many and powerful have been the marriages 
 contracted by the great Kaisers of the House of Hapsburg, but 
 none have been so auspicious and happy as that of the present 
 noble minded representative of the House of Hapsburg. A 
 marriage of pure, simple love and affection. It brought no 
 accrete or addition of wealth or power, but it brought the lofty, 
 refined spirit and bright intelligence that has, in concert with 
 her Kaiser, and the aid of faithful and devoted servants like 
 the Cou}it Von Beust and Andrassy, won the love and loyalty 
 of the high spirited but freedom loving Hungarian people, and 
 installed her as Empress indeed of all her people. 
 
 The march winds blew keen, when to visit our shore, 
 To share in our sport, a fair Empress came o'er; 
 How chilly and cheerless to her must have seemed 
 Our climate, but warm hearts its coldness redeemed. 
 
 Soon again may her presence our hearts make rejoice, 
 Soon again may we hear her sweet musical voice ; 
 In our sports and our pastimes we'll take a new pride, 
 When again such a guest shall deign with us ride. 
 
 824316
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 WAR IN HUNGARY ...... 1 
 
 CHARLES ALBERT ON THE MORROW OF NOVARA . 13 
 
 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850 ..... 21 
 
 KING WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA AND BENEDETTI . 31 
 
 BISMARCK : HIS CHARACTER .... 37 
 
 LOUIS napoleon's DEPARTURE FOR SEDAN . 51 
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS ..... 59 
 
 SUNSET OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY . . 81 
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNROBIN .... 91 
 
 THE GOOD SHIP " PROGRESS " ... 109 
 
 JOHN BRIGHT — -SALMON FISHING IN SUTHERLAND . 115 
 
 SCHWERT LIED "THE SONG OF THE SWORD " . 123 
 
 SOLDATEN-LIED *' MORGEN ROTH " . . . 129 
 
 ANGRY THOUGHTS . . . . . .135 
 
 CHARGE OF THE WHITE CUIRASSIERS AT GRAVELOTTE 141 
 IRISH SOLDIERS . . . . . .145 
 
 ON BARMAIDS . . . . . .149 
 
 IRISH PEOPLE . . . . . .153 
 
 THE POET ....... 157 
 
 BLOOMING GIRLHOOD AND SAD SPINSTERHOOD . 161 
 
 LINES ON A REFORMATORY . . .   . 169 
 
 TICHBORNE . , . . . . . 175 
 
 ON EARLY MARRIAGES . . . . .181 
 
 ON SCHEMING AND MEDDLING WOMEN . . 187 
 
 DREAM OF THE LATE SAMUEL WILBERFORCE . 193
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 All frequenters of our law courts, and those familiar 
 with the cost of criminal procedure and the practice 
 pursued, are well aware that the first step of the 
 prosecuting counsel is to prove motive, and that if 
 the prisoner pleads guilty, he may instruct counsel 
 to he heard in mitigation of sentence, and to plead 
 extenuating circumstances. " Qui s'excuse s'accuse," 
 and I fear I must plead guilty, and throw myself on 
 the mercy of the Court, when I stand at the bar of 
 Public Opinion, arraigned on the very grave and 
 serious charge of spoihng good paper with bad 
 verses, I will not presume to call it poetry. " The 
 Judges have met — a terrible show," and to save the 
 time of the Court and the prosecuting counsel, 
 Serjeants Critic and Cynic, Q.C., I will admit the
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 motive, the commission cf the felonious act, and 
 plead in mitigation of my sentence the honesty of 
 the pm'pose which led me to commit the offence. 
 
 The object for which I write these rude rhymes, 
 and the ends and aims which I have ke^Dt steadily in 
 view, and which alone nerved me to take the fatal 
 plunge of rushing into print, and, probably, making 
 myself a laughing-stock, was and is to try and strike 
 the key-note — like a rude and rough pioneer, to 
 prepare the way for the gradual instilling into the 
 minds of the leaders and guides of Public Opinion 
 the absolute paramount necessity of universal com- 
 pulsory military service. If the press will only take 
 up the question and not cease until it has by them 
 been borne into the minds of the whole nation, that 
 it is a question which cannot be shirked or put oif, 
 but that we must make up our minds one way or 
 other. One year's drill, not desultory and s]3asmodic, 
 but hard, unceasing schooling in the use of arms, 
 constant exercise in the field, and the daily being 
 called to assist in battalion and brigade manoeuvres, 
 is an education in itself. Habits of order and
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 metliocl, of politeness and punctuality, of absolute 
 unquestioning obedience to orders, of the stern 
 necessity for steadiness and sobriety, these are the 
 lessons taught by even one year of the iron discipline 
 of barrack life. It is the gretitest possible mistake 
 to suppose that a year's service prevents a youth 
 from getting on in life ; it is the finest rough and 
 ready education in the world. It gives a graceful 
 carriage ; an upright, easy walk — a great contrast to 
 the slouching and bent back, and stooping shoulders 
 and contracted chest of those who have never been 
 "set up." The moral and social benefits which 
 accrue from universal military service are the 
 mingling of classes otherwise far apart : they learn 
 to know each other : the men begin to find their 
 oflficers are not what the demagogues and radical 
 carpet-baggers and spouters would fain represent 
 them to be, but men like unto themselves, taking an 
 interest in their men, sharing their hopes and cares, 
 their joys and sorrows ; ever ready to help them out 
 of a difficulty, to make excuses for them when they 
 have got into a scrape, to warn and caution them,
 
 XU PEE FACE, 
 
 and use all their influence to keep them straight. 
 As for the officers themselves, universal military 
 service has raised the standard very high in 
 Germany. There, an officer only becomes one by 
 his own merit and attainments ; he has not only to 
 attain to and come up to, but he has to retain and 
 preserve intact the very high standard "which is the 
 measurement of a German officer. These men, 
 having gone through the stern ordeal of drill and 
 discipline in all its phases, from the goose-step to 
 the drilling of a brigade, become an institution ; the 
 officer is recognised wherever he goes as a man who 
 has realised the fact that he has duties and responsi- 
 bilities quite beyond and outside his own private self 
 and selfish interests ; duties which his conscience 
 will not permit him to shirk or evade. We English 
 have never sufficiently realised the fact that each of 
 us as a citizen and member of the great nation to 
 which he belongs, is bound to qualify himself in 
 every way, and render himself efficient and capable 
 to protect and defend and do good service for his 
 country, which has provided for him and enabled
 
 PREFACE. ^ Xm 
 
 him to earn an honest living, if poor, or protected 
 his property if rich. Prince Albert, that good, and 
 wise, and deeply loved and lamented Prince, saw 
 and suggested all this ; but he was so modest and 
 unassuming; so careful never to even seem to 
 dictate. That mild and gentle Prince was very slow 
 to tender his advice on any matter of state, and 
 most wisely held aloof from politics. Once and once 
 only he did travel out of his usual course, and 
 warned us we did uot know what we were about 
 when we quarrelled with our old and natural ally, 
 Eussia, and bade us think twice, and thrice, before 
 we joined an "imbroglio," the end and issue of 
 which he could not see. How impatiently we 
 listened, or rather refused to listen, is now a matter 
 of history. The soundness of his advice was proved 
 too late for us to profit by it. Let us take warning, 
 and while yet it is not too late let us lay to heart 
 and not let fall to the ground his advice as to 
 universal mihtary service. The passing through the 
 ranks and service under the colours would be a sort of 
 universal going to college and taking a degree. If a
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 youth serveJ his time with credit and reputation, the 
 stamp of good conduct woukT he set on him for his 
 future career. The physique of our rising generation 
 would undouhtedly he greatly improved. Eeguhir 
 hours, constant exercise, enforced hahits of sohriety, 
 and good reguh^r meals, must tell their tale, and 
 give vigour and strength at the most critical age, 
 when a growing lad most requires plenty of good 
 food, sleep, and exercise. If I can succeed in 
 merely arousing a faint quaver, and just touch the 
 key-note, the wakeful, sensitive ear of the press may 
 vibrate responsive to it. This key-note, struck ever 
 so lightly, is all we want ; the press will soon take it 
 up. That great guide and leader of Public Opinion 
 will gradually educate the people. As Disraeli 
 educated his party to household suffrage, so will the 
 press gradually enure and reconcile us to the idea of 
 ultimately recognizing the absolute necessity and 
 expediency of universal military service. Our press 
 is not venal, neither is it " inspired or officious." 
 No doubt various papers represent various sections 
 of parties and politics, and likewise the financial
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 interests of tlie proprietors have to be studied, they 
 must be made to pay ; nevertheless there is hardly a 
 single English newspaper that will not go out of its 
 way to expose rascality and corruption, and that will 
 not be prepared to pay for so exposing it, A 
 hundred instances can be shown of vast litigation, 
 involving almost ruinous costs, incurred by news- 
 papers who fearlessly exposed and held up to public 
 gaze acts of malversation, corruption or vice. It is 
 now for the press to direct the thoughts of the 
 English people to the fact that they have hitherto 
 shirked their duties as citizens, and by recognizing 
 that fact, and personally fulfilling them, millions 
 may be saved to the country. Taxation may be 
 reduced more than one-half, the tone and " morale " 
 of our whole population, high or low, socially and 
 physically, greatly improved, and raised to a much 
 higher standard. The "Battle of Dorking" was a 
 kind of prophetic warning. The late discussions in 
 both Houses have only shown the utter bewilderment 
 of luckless ministers whenever they had to take up 
 the question of "how to provide a proi^er supply of
 
 XVI PREFACE . 
 
 soldiers." CaxDtaiu Hine's pamphlet " Universal 
 Conscription : the only Answer to the Eecruiting 
 Question," completes the effect of the "Battle of 
 Dorking," and, combined with the fruitless scheming 
 of two successive ministers of war, Lord Cardwell 
 and Mr, Gathorne Hardy, both equally zealous in 
 the cause, have left in the minds of men a kind of 
 preparation to entertain the idea of universal 
 military service. 
 
 My object is to render popular, and to convey in a 
 popular form, the seemingly dry, but, in reality, 
 highly interesting succession of facts and factors of 
 motives and movers of causes and effects, of failures 
 and successes which, " tottled " up together make 
 the sum of the history of the last twenty-five years. 
 In all our surprising efforts and persistent attempts 
 " not to do it," nothing is so astounding as our 
 l^raisewortliy, but mistaken struggles in the 
 direction of that department of social economy called 
 education. Any boy or girl of ordinary capacity 
 can, before the age of sixteen, by the exercise of their 
 faculties and attention to their studies, easily
 
 PEEFACE. XVll 
 
 become a fairly elegant scholar, familiar, if a boy, 
 witli the beauties of Sophocles, Homer, and 
 Euripides ; if a girl, with the classic poetry of 
 Tasso, Daute, Beranger, Schiller, and Gcethe. The 
 want or deficiency in their studies is at once appa- 
 rent, and becomes lamentably and ridiculously con- 
 spicuous in their utter ignorance of more recent and 
 contemporary modern history to receive and retain 
 a lasting impression of historical events when con- 
 veyed in the more pleasing form of poetry : the 
 Siege of Troy would never have become famous save 
 for the muse of Homer. The founders of Eome 
 would have been unknown save for Virgil. Her 
 luxiiry and civilization in the plenitude of her 
 power are revealed alone by Horace, Juvenal, and 
 Martial. Macaulay's " Lays of Ancient Eome " 
 have made many a boy and girl turn again with 
 interest and an eager spirit of inquiry to Gibbon 
 or Niebuhr, whose pages seemed so dull and weari- 
 some before ; the jingle of the verse has touched 
 the keynote, and the mind is attuned for the diligent 
 perusal of history. Sir Walter Scott's " Lay of the
 
 XYlll PSEFACE, 
 
 Last Minstrel" lias suddenly inspired liis young 
 worshipper with the desire to know the circum- 
 stances which made the Douglas aai exile > and to 
 learn which among Scotland's kings was " the 
 Knight of Snowdoun ; " the "Tales of my Grand- 
 father," are taken down, and its pages no longer 
 skimmed over desultorily, but pored over with 
 absorbing interest. Thus is the poet a pioneer to 
 his more grave and sedate brother the historian. 
 Old Herodotus did quite right in making the muses a 
 group of insei^arables. The poet, the historian, the 
 travelled geographist, the logarithm-weaving calcu- 
 lating problem- solving astronomer, the dramatist and 
 play writer, and finally the aetor, all are soldiers 
 fighting in the same cause, of education, enlighten- 
 ment, and elevation of the mind. Poets, musicians, 
 actors, and, I fear, authors, are looked upon in this 
 material, utilitarian age, as not " jiractical." To use 
 the words of the hard men of business, "It does not 
 pay." I believe this is utterly untrue, and is only 
 the view of men, whose vision is hmited to the one 
 object ever before their eyes — money-making. They
 
 SEEPAGE. XIS 
 
 4.0 not see tliat many of their fellows are able to 
 take far clearer and keener views of things than 
 ■themselves, simply because their minds have been 
 raised and refined, and their thoughts elevated by 
 more intellectual aspirations, albeit, '" disgracious 
 in the City's eyes." The spirit of Shakespeare, 
 will sometimes visit the murkiest of mammon- 
 worshipping counting-houses. 
 
 " It is the precious province ef true tliougkt 
 Of the divine creations of the mind, 
 
 To live unwearied in a heart o'er wrought 
 By busy intercourse with town mankind." 
 
 To return, therefore, to my original theme, tha"!; 
 
 poetry, however rude, is the best vehicle in which 
 
 history can take a lift when she is foot- sore and 
 
 leg-weary. Let that grave and plodding pedestrian 
 
 not despise the most jolting of tumbrils, the most 
 
 creaking of carts ; the waggoner, though a boor in a 
 
 smock frock, may cheer his team by chaunting some 
 
 old song, which, when enquired into, turns out 
 
 to be a fragment of a coxTntry-side legend or tradition, 
 
 •which supplies a missing link in a nation's annals. 
 
 Such for instance, was the old Cornish popular song of
 
 XX PEEFACE. 
 
 '* Tre and Pol and Pen." It recorded and rescued 
 
 from oblivion a chapter in history. In Wales, it is 
 
 in the writer's recollection, only four years ago, no 
 
 inn or hotel of any repute was without its harper, 
 
 who sat in the entrance hall and played the national 
 
 instrument, the harp. The bards were not bards 
 
 only in name, they were real children of song and 
 
 poetry, full of ancient lore and traditions of the 
 
 wild Welch of other days. The " March of the 
 
 men of Harlech," " The curse of the Bard on King 
 
 Edward the First," conveyed in that most beautiful 
 
 of old melodies 
 
 " Kuin seize thee, ruthless king, 
 Confusion on thy banners wait," 
 
 heard for the first time in a Welch inn, haunted 
 the memory of many a youth and maiden, until 
 they were led to pull down the long neglected 
 " Mrs. Markham," and a spirit of enquiry once 
 awakened, the muse of history holds the reader in 
 her thrall. This is the raison (Tctre, and thus 
 originated those " Eisteclffods,'" or musical festivals, 
 which have become so popular and successful
 
 PREFACE^ XXI 
 
 throiigliont the principality. Thus the *' refrain" 
 of an old Welch air has vibrated unresponded to 
 for centuries, until at last it has woke up an echo 
 that has been caught up and repeated, until a 
 responsive chorus of congenial spirits have preserved 
 and perpetuated it as one of the national melodies 
 of Wales, which first led her children to appreciate 
 their country's literature, and rescue from oblivion 
 and neglect her history, her language, and her 
 customs. So is it in nearly all countries : the 
 national airs and national songs are all an accurate 
 index to the national mind, they are all worthy of 
 investigation and enquiry. Out of the tens of 
 thousands of the thousands who have enriched their 
 minds and gladdened their eyes with the lovely 
 landscapes and delicious scenery of Loch Katrine and 
 Vennachar, the Trossachs, and Loch Lomond, what 
 single one would have ventured so far afield, save for 
 the wand of the wizard of the north that beckoned 
 him on. Scotland had by no means given a 
 favorable impression to her earher visitors, and few 
 
 had penetrated into her little known regions, save 
 
 a2
 
 XXU PREFACE, 
 
 commercial travellers, bagmen, and the pioneers of 
 commerce. Even these hardy adventurers, driven 
 b}' the trade winds, by no means gave Caledonia a 
 good character, their southern stomachs missed the 
 strong ale and juicy joints thej^ had been accustomed 
 to south of the border, and grumbling, crusty, cross 
 old Dr. Samuel Johnson, shook the dust off his feet 
 as he came Loudonwards, and when he found him- 
 self safely ensconced in the " Cheshire Cheese," 
 after a walk down Fleet Street, and through Temple 
 Bar, he gave the rough side of his tongue and his 
 heartiest malediction on Scotland ; and the Scotch 
 Lowlanders and Highlanders all alike came under 
 his categorical curse — " Marry good air beggars 
 all " ! "A change came o'er the s^^irit of this 
 dream," and Caledonia, stern and wild, suddenly 
 found herself invaded by an army of Southrons, not 
 as formerly, with spear and sword, and brown bill, 
 but a fair company of courteous lords and ladies, 
 scholars and grave professors, antiquaries and 
 archoeologists, all with money in their purse and 
 the will to spend it freely. We may date the
 
 PREFACE. XXUl 
 
 prosperity of Scotland from the time when Sir 
 Walter Scott's poetry and romances first became 
 really appreciated, and for tlie first time it davrned 
 upon tlie mind of the general public and people of 
 Great Britain that a heaven-born genius had been 
 sojourning unknown and unrecognized in the far 
 north, and Scotland had been " entertaining an 
 angel unawares." The broad rich Doric, spoken 
 not only by the peasantry and lower classes, but by 
 the lairds and gentry, had been sneered at previously, 
 and Eobert Burns' beautiful homely songs had 
 remained a sealed book to all, save those who could 
 appreciate the merits of " braid Scots." The 
 cipher only wanted the key, and the hitherto jmzzled 
 and benighted Southron had in despair thrown on 
 one side, " We're nae that fou, but just a drappie 
 m our e'e," exclaiming, more in sorrow than in 
 anger, " these people sing and speak in vowels and 
 monosyllables ! " The thrilling narratives of " The 
 Antiquary," "The Heart of Mid Lothian," and 
 " Guy Mannering," soon brought " braid Scots," into 
 the list of civilized languages, and recognized as a
 
 XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 peculiarly graphic, descriptive, terse meaning-con- 
 veying, expressive dialect, chiefly derived from our 
 Swedish and Scandinavian ancestors. I may here 
 remark, that any sportsman or tourist who seeks 
 " fresh fields and pastures new," amid the fields and 
 fiords of Norway or Sweden, has only to take 
 up his ahode at Buckie (short for Buckhaven), or 
 Peterhaven, or in the parts about Aberdeen, and do a 
 little sketching among the fishing folk and " caller 
 herring," and rizzard or smoked haddock dealers and 
 ciirers, to become a fair Scandinavian scholar, when 
 he lands at Christiana, or Bergen, he would be able 
 to talk to the " bonder " in their own vernacular. 
 
 From the "Poet's Corner," therefore, we may 
 safely conclude, first emanated the spirit of enquiry 
 and research, and the desire of information as to 
 the history, customs, and language of Scotland. We 
 have heard of Wales. Both countries and both 
 peoples have been won over from the instinctive 
 hostility of races, language and creed, to a perfect 
 imion and insej)arable amalgamation. We await 
 the coming man, the Heaven-born poet of the
 
 PREFACE. XXV 
 
 futiire, who shall teach us English, Welch, and 
 Scotch, to learn to take an interest in the language, 
 history, and traditions of our Irish neighbours, we 
 shall then find in them the same interest, beauties of 
 imagery and ideal thought, as seen by Nature to 
 have been implanted in the breast of Nature's 
 children everywhere.
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 " Let Clitic harsh and sage severe reprove 
 Our humble efforts to please ; do you remove 
 Our fears of faltering feet, and halting rhyme. 
 gentle reader, smile, and take it all in time."
 
 WAR IN HUNGARY.
 
 WAE IN HUNGAEY. 
 
 The Emperor Francis Joseph, on the 1st May, 1849, 
 headed in person the forlorn hope at the storming of 
 Eaab, in Hungary. Five-and-twenty years after- 
 wards, on the anniversary of that day, he was 
 invested by the Empei-or of Eussia with the order 
 of the Knights of St. George, Eussian Legion of 
 Honour decoration. This celebration of that anni- 
 versary was rendered more remarkable by the fact 
 that those five-and-twenty years had been sj^ent by 
 the Kaiser Francis Joseph m patiently winning over 
 to him his various subjects, who had only been 
 estranged from him by the insiduous wiles and 
 schemes of cosmopolitan adventurers and dema- 
 gogues, whose business as professional agitators, V~^.   ^ 
 
 W'as to throw down the apple of discord between a " . ^ 
 
 generous prince and a loyal people. Nothing ought -" 
 to be more painful to Englishmen who think and see 
 for themselves, and are not carried away by igno- 
 rant prejudices and crude opinions formed in the 
 absence of rehable data, than ou.r conduct at the 
 time of the War in Hungary. Austria had been an
 
 4 WAR IN HiTNGAKY. 
 
 old and faithful ally. The Austrian anny was 
 largely officered by Englishmen, Hungary was » 
 terra incocinita to most of us. We however accepted, 
 as we are so unfortunately wont to do, the mere 
 ipse dixit of au unknown adventurer, Kossuth, 
 merely because he made bold and sweeping asser- 
 tions, entirely unsupported by evidence. A brave 
 old soldier, Ha3aiau, came over to visit England, 
 and, while out of curiosity visiting one of our great 
 brewing establishments, he was set upon by a troop 
 of giant draymen and mobbed. Nothing could be 
 more disgraceful, nothing more cowardly. Our big, 
 burly brewers' men are too manly to have done suck 
 a thing of their own heads, and of course were put 
 ^^p to it by some contemptible radical clerk, who 
 was ass enough to believe that all must be gospel 
 that was in print. Any one who knew anything of 
 the subject was quite aware that all the absurd 
 canards about " Tiger " Haynau were impudent 
 inventions, without the slightest shadow of founda- 
 tion. The lamentable civil war in Hungary, which 
 turned a smiling garden flowing with milk and 
 honey into a wilderness, was a great event in his- 
 tory. It was kindled, no doubt, into actual fire, by 
 the sparks emanating from the great revolutionary 
 explosion in France, which fired the train already 
 laid by ambitious demagogues to every capital and 
 city in Europe. As far as I could make out on the 
 spot, Hungary had no real grievance to complain of,
 
 WAK IN HDNGAEY. 
 
 110 oppressive acts at the liands of their Government ; 
 lier people were exceptionally prosperous, but 
 Protestant, and followers of Huss, who suffered 
 martyrdom in 1415; they had their own parish 
 priest, and their whole system of internal economy 
 resembled our own England nearer than any other 
 country. The Concordat at that time had not been 
 granted, the magnates and noblemen of Hungary 
 were smitten with quite an Anglo-mania, and every- 
 thing English was the fashion of the day. How a 
 needy adventurer hke Kossuth could possibly spoil 
 all this, and throw down all the long-accumulated 
 pile of prosperity, is one of those questions that can 
 only be solved by the answer, "that nothing goes 
 down with the general mass so well as to be told 
 they have a grievance." I had the honour and 
 pleasure of the personal acquaintance of some of the 
 leading spirits of the Insurrection ; they, however, 
 were no adventurers, they had larg€ possessions and 
 held a great stak-e in the country : like Stonewall 
 Jackson and General Eobert Lee in the great civil 
 war in America, between the North and South, it 
 cost them a sore struggle and a wrestling and agony 
 of the spirit before they could make up their minds 
 with which party it was their duty to throw in their 
 lot. That decision once taken they faltered not, they 
 cast the hazard on th-e die and stood to it. The 
 Emperor of Austria and his Government have, in a 
 rare and large-hearted spirit of conciliation and for-
 
 6 WAR IN HUNaARY. 
 
 giveness, recognized all this ; Deak,* Andrassy, and 
 all the great leaders of the Insurrection of '48, are 
 now ministers. Kossuth, simply, was a very clever, 
 plausible adventurer, with a marvellous gift of the 
 gab. He had gauged off the enthusiastic patriotism 
 of all the people from the highest to the lowest. 
 An enthusiasm that, if it had been evoked m a 
 better cause, would be entitled to the warmest admi- 
 ration. The brave, enthusiastic ' character of the 
 people of Hungary and Poland, very like oui- Irish 
 in their temperament, renders them peculiarly 
 impressionable and open to the machinations of 
 designing demagogues, who know how to effect their 
 purpose by instilluig vague, "wild notions of wrong 
 and oppression, and turn the glowing patriotism of 
 the brave people to then* own selfish purposes, and 
 to advance their own private interests. Like 
 the Irish people and Dan O'Connell, "Ivossuth 
 said so, and what Kossuth said must be true." 
 Hardly any of the insurgents knew what they were 
 lighting for ; the Honveds and Hussars who did the 
 actual fighting, when reproached for being in arms 
 against their Emperor, all gave the same reply, 
 evidently an honest one, — " We are fightmg for our 
 Kaiser, but the German Generals want to give' our 
 lands to the Croats! " Some of the Chiefs who com- 
 manded in the army of the Insurgents were men of 
 great capacity. As is always the case in civil war, 
 
 * Since dead.
 
 WAR IN HUNGARY. / 
 
 tlie military leaders, who ought to be absolute 
 dictators, were interfered with by Kossuth, the 
 civilian; and instead of the campaign being con- 
 ducted by one head, and all the rest being parts of 
 one harmonious whole, the plans of Gorgey, Bern, 
 and Dembinski, were frustrated and defeated by 
 Kossuth's interference. There is a very beautiful 
 picture, the subject of which is, " Last Thoughts of 
 Hungary." The study of the noble features of these 
 great and gifted leaders, Bern and Dembinski, tho^e 
 two " death-defying Poles," Klapka (in after time, 
 in common with General Williams, one of the 
 defenders of Kars), Guyon, an Englishman, and 
 Gorgey, a man of astonishing strategical powers, 
 makes one sigh over the sad fate that impelled these 
 men to turn their swords against their Emperor and 
 their Government, and die exiles in a foreign 
 laftid, instead of living to had on their gallant 
 soldiers against a foreign foe and invader. Had 
 8uch men as Bern and Dembinski commanded, 
 Solferino might have been a Novara. We may 
 indeed say with Sir Walter Scott, who sighed to 
 think that Flodden might have been a Bannockburn 
 if the Scottish forces had been led as they were ou 
 that glorious day : 
 
 " Gorgey, for thy leader's staff. 
 Fierce Guyon for thy speed ; 
 for one hour of Klapka's wight, 
 Or well-skilled Bern to rule the fight,
 
 8 WAR IN HUNGARY. 
 
 And cry, " Oiu- Kaiser and our right ! " 
 Another sight had seen that morn, 
 From Fate's dark book a leaf been torn. 
 And Austria crowned with victory ! " 
 
 Danube, Danube, once so bhie, 
 Wherefore hast thou changed thy hue ? 
 When in thee my hands I'd lave, 
 Shrink I back from gory wave ? 
 
 Oh ! rejoice, thou dark Euxine, 
 Darker are my waves than thine ; 
 Black Sea wast thou called before. 
 Blacker shalt thou be wuth gore. 
 
 Once my river's stagnant flow 
 Ghded past with current slow, 
 Sleepy hamlets, prosperous town^ 
 Drowsy cots my banks did crown. 
 Village bells my murmurs drown. 
 
 Now the tocsin sounds from far, 
 " Havoc ! " cries the Dog of War ; 
 Flaming village, smoking town, 
 Now my banks all gleaming crown.
 
 WAR IN HUNGARY. 
 
 Sclave and deatli-defying Pole 
 Corpses down my current roll ; 
 Fierce Magyar and swarthy Hun 
 Darker still my current dun. 
 
 Bohmisch giants > curassiers ; 
 Lancers with tough ashen spears ; 
 All in one red carnage blent, 
 Corpses now, their life is spent. 
 
 By Danube, when the sun was low, 
 White the sands as driven snow, 
 When the drums beat at dead of night, 
 Then Danube saw another sight.''' 
 
 Priests and Demagogues united 
 Have done their work, and wide 
 
 Is the breach 'tween Prince and People, 
 That from each their hearts divide. 
 
 And the chivalrous young monarch, 
 
 So kind, and ever fain 
 To hear his meanest subject's prayer, 
 
 Who never prayed in vain ; 
 
 * See " Battle of Hohenlinden."
 
 10 WAE IN HUNGARY. 
 
 He would not to the vulgar crowd 
 Yield what tliey craved witli clamour loud. 
 Foul wrong lie's liad from sland'rous tongue, 
 Foul wrong from priest, from rebels wrong. 
 
 'Twas for thee, sage Saxon statesman, 
 'Twas for thee the glorious role, 
 
 To weld these warring elements 
 Into one homogenous whole ; 
 
 'Tween the Kaiser and his Paladins, 
 
 So loyal and so brave, 
 All the differences of race and creed 
 
 To bury in one grave. 
 
 All memories of quarrels past 
 Are quenched in love so true, — 
 
 " Pro liege nostro moriamnr,'' — 
 We'll hve and die for you.* 
 
 My fierce heart beat so wildly ! 
 
 E'en now it angers me 
 That to crafty plotting schemers 
 
 Thou hast bent thy gallant knee ! 
 
 *The cr}- of the Magyar nobles when they rallied round 
 Maria Theresa.
 
 WAR IN HUNGAKY. H 
 
 Thy blooming youth all bhghted. 
 
 And thy nature fresh and free, 
 With Concordat, Comminations, 
 
 And tricks of grammarye. 
 
 Now the mists\re fast dissolving 
 That obscured thine honest eyes, 
 
 And with clear and undimmed vision 
 Thou gazest on the skies. 
 
 No more clouds shall come between us ; 
 
 Lean on thy people's breast ; 
 Trust in Providence serenely, 
 
 And calmly take thy rest. 
 Thy loving people bless thee, 
 
 And thou shalt e'en be blest ! 
 
 Wlieu the Kaiser Francis Joseph was crowued King of 
 Hungary in 18fi7, when Andrassy and Francis Deak (aided by 
 Pulsky) brought about the great reconciliation between the 
 Kaiser of Austria and his long-estranged people, he refused 
 to accept the usual tribute paid on the accession of a new 
 king to the throne of Hungary ; and v.-hen it was forced on 
 him as the customary tribute of Hungarian people to the king 
 of Hungary, he only accepted it on condiiion that it should bo 
 handed over to the wounded and invalided " Hdnveds " who 
 had suffered in the war when they took up arms against theii- 
 Kaiser. A " Chelsea Hospital," or " Hotel des Invalides," 
 was founded with this money. Could forgiveness and con- 
 ciliation go further ?
 
 CHARLES ALBERT ON THE 
 MORROAY OE NOVARA.
 
 CHARLES ALBERT ON THE MORROW 
 OF NO VARA. 
 
 Italy lay bound and heli^less after Novara, 
 
 " In mute despair, 
 Tearing with gj've-woru hand her blood-bedraggled hair," 
 
 clutching a dagger in her feeble, fevered grasp, hence- 
 forward to brood helplessly over her wrongs un- 
 avenged, and her efforts baffled and paralysed ; no 
 practical or probable hope of revenge save in the 
 stiletto of the assassin. Suddenly from her dark 
 broodings she is roused by the sound of heavy foot- 
 steps — -a long determined stride : they echo through 
 the corridors of the lonely prison-house ; nearer and 
 yet more near they come ; the door is opened, and 
 the Deliverer appears ! His mask is down, and Jn 
 the darkness the brain-sick captive can only see a 
 shadowy, indistinct form ; but that form leans over 
 her, and whispers comfort. The captive thinks that 
 in her dhre extremity there has indeed at last de- 
 scended some heaven-sent spirit of grace and mercy. 
 But suddenly a bright and almost blinding radiant
 
 16 CHARLES ALBEKT OX 
 
 beam of siinsliiiie pioi'ces tlirougl] tlie barred and 
 stancliion-bouud casement, and its golden effulgence 
 reveals the face of her deliverer. No delicate, white- 
 winged messenger this from other far-off worlds ; 
 but a very real, substantial, humui form of flesh 
 and blood. The ruddy genial cheeks and bright eyes 
 of Cavour beam all benignantly on the pale and 
 trembling captive ; he bids her arise and stand up : 
 like the angel to St. Peter he saith, " Arise up 
 quickly." She did arise, and she now walks alone 
 and unsupported ; but her deliverer has gone up 
 aloft, to join the shining throng of patriot spirits. 
 '■'■ Italia fara da sc." 
 
 MouRx, mourn, ye Patriots, mourn, 
 For comrades overborne ! 
 For gyves and chains still worn ; 
 Poor fettered freedom, mourn ! 
 
 Kadetsky's serried ranks, 
 Sclavonians, Teutons, Franks ; 
 Oh ! who has e'er withstood 
 Such vast o'erwhelming flood 
 Of Vandal, Goth, and Hun ? 
 
 It boots not now to say 
 
 ' ' We should have altered our array,
 
 THE MORKOW OF NOVARA. 17 
 
 And changed our front ! " Too late, 
 We saw our ranks give way 
 On that dread and fatal day, 
 When to veteran war-worn foes 
 We'd the folly to oppose 
 Those levies, raw and green. 
 
 When the tug of war was seen, 
 And Greek met Greek, I ween 
 Full soon their martial ire, 
 Like hay or straw on fire, 
 Was quenched in flight's desire, 
 Wild and disorderly ; 
 Little qualified to meet 
 Those foeman, stern and wild ! 
 
 " Break, break, my bursting heart ! 
 These o'erstrained cords now part. 
 Too solid flesh, dissolve ! 
 Thaw and resolve thyseK. 
 
 For how can monarch ride 
 His gallant chiefs beside ? 
 My lofty hopes are hushed, 
 My battered helm is crushed,
 
 18 CHARLES ALBEKT ON 
 
 My broken sword is rust, 
 My honour's in the dust. 
 
 My soul will to the saints, I trust. 
 Nor more for hfe I lust, 
 Leave now tliis world I must ; 
 My country to my God I trust, 
 Italia, now, good night I " 
 
 < The dying Monarch smiled ; 
 Whispered an angel mild, 
 So sweetly and so low. 
 Hark ! to the unearthly strain, 
 Like softly dropping rain 
 It trills upon his ear. 
 
 He sees yon wliite-robed messenger, 
 Beckoning with accents mild, 
 " Well done, thou faithful child ! • 
 Soldier, rest thee ! rest, rest thee ! 
 Here no bugle sounds reveillee ; 
 Sleep the sleep that knows no waking, 
 Here's no di'um thy slumbers breaking. 
 
 Not in vain thy sacrifice, 
 Whom affliction did baptize ;
 
 THE MORROW OF NOVAKA, IP 
 
 Pleased the Almighty to chastise, 
 
 Sanctified and purified 
 
 In dark sorrow's burning tide. 
 
 Rise, thou good and faithful King, 
 In thy need I comfort Ijrnig," 
 
 See a gallant Son arise, 
 AVell I mark his father's eyes ; 
 Thou shalt be this hero's shield, 
 He'll his father's falchion wield 
 O'er full many a well-fought field. 
 
 Thou, unseen, invisible, 
 Spirit pure and essence thin. 
 Thou shalt soar o'er battle din, 
 His guardian angel thou. 
 
 o^ 
 
 Thou shalt turn the bursting shell. 
 Thou shalt guard his sword-arm Avell, 
 As of old the heroes twain, 
 Castor and Pollux, twins germane. 
 On Lake Regillus' shore 
 The barbarous hosts o'erbore, 
 And sudden panic struck ;
 
 -0 CHARLES ALBERT ON THE MORROW OF NOVARA, 
 
 So. too, shalt tliou, in spirit be, 
 Tiea<lin;<? the flower of chivalry 
 At SoltVa-ino's field. 
 
 BehiuJ, a brighter hour impends ; 
 Italia's star full blaze ascends ; 
 Free-thought old Superstition rends, 
 The Bourbon quakes, poor Bomba bends, 
 A sujipliaut for his throne. 
 Fultilled at last, Cavour, thy boast, 
 Italia's free from coast to coast ; 
 From Alpine height to Apenuiue, 
 All, all is free — all, all is thine. 
 Fara da se, Italia !
 
 COUNT CAYOUR IN 1850,
 
 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 
 
 We are told in a beautiful hymn that 
 
 " God works in a mysterious way, 
 His wonders to perform ; " 
 
 and from time to time Providence raises up great 
 instruments to do His work. These great men only 
 make their appearance at dates few and far between, 
 when the life and welfare of a particular people or 
 nation would seem to depend on some such provi- 
 dential interposition. Such' Heaven-sent patriot 
 was our own Cromwell ; such was Washington for- 
 America ; such was Cavour for Italy. Dark and 
 dismal, indeed, were the days of Italy when Cavour's 
 brain began to work. He had hitherto been only a 
 genial, ruddy-faced, pleasant man of the world, 
 using his keen wits in now and then making a hit on 
 the Bourse : always a welcome guest everywhere. 
 Suddenly the celestial fire descended and touched 
 him ; he awoke to see his country as she was, 
 stricken down after the fatal day of Novara, with 
 her noble Avarrior-king, Charles Albert, dead. If
 
 24 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 
 
 ever man died of a broken heart, then Charles 
 Albert (a giant in stature, strength, and courage) 
 did, an exile at Lisbon. Austria, slowly recovering 
 from the terrible wounds she had received in the 
 great internecine struggle with Hunga)-y, had 
 tightened her hold on Italy's neck, and had held 
 every town and district with troops that could not 
 but recall with bitterness how they had been jeered 
 and insulted in the days of Austria's reverses by the 
 half " Moblet " volunteers and mobs with musfeets 
 in their hands. Kossuth and the demagogues had 
 done their work, and had estranged a loyal, con- 
 tented people from a true, chivalrous and hberal- 
 hearted monarch. No light anywhere for Italy : no 
 sympathy. The Milan free corps and swaggering 
 cafe loungers, who turned tail at Novara, and ren- 
 dered vain the valour of Charles Albert and his 
 gallant Piedmontese, had disgusted the world with 
 Italy. Liberator Cavour was just beginning to gain 
 the confidence of his king, the gallant son of a 
 gallant father, Victor Emanuel, "1/ Re Galantuomo,'" 
 when the war between Eussia and Turkey began. 
 As soon as France and England intervened, and 
 took the part of the " Sick Man," his clear, pre- 
 scient, far-seeing mind, at once detected that it was 
 a logical sequence, that if a Christian power inter- 
 vened to come to the assistance of an infidel and 
 alien race, then a Christian power might intervene 
 and come to the assistance of a fellow- Christian and
 
 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 25 
 
 cognate race ; and that France and England, who 
 Lad hstened and paid attention to the cries for help 
 of a Moslem, and half-Asiatic, and autocratic 
 dynasty, could not turn a deaf ear to the tears and 
 entreaties of a free, constitutional, enlightened 
 people, nearly akin in race, blood, and language. 
 Cavour strengthened his position by requesting per- 
 mission to send an Italian contingent to the allied 
 armies banded together to resist the aggressive 
 designs of Kussia. His request was granted, and 
 a most carefully selected and very perfectly equipped 
 contingent left Spezzia for the shores of the Crimea. 
 These men were the flower of the army of the 
 united kingdom of Piedmont and Sardinia, then a 
 small and miniature state. Cavour knew that this 
 entitled him to have a seat and a voice at the 
 board of the council of Europe whenever the war 
 came to an end, and when the time arrived for 
 making final arrangements for keeping the peace on 
 the Continent. All he expected came to pass 
 exactly as he had foreseen. The gallantry and 
 devotion of the Sards and Piedmontese at Traktir 
 earned for them a high reputation and military 
 prestige. Every one of his prognostications was 
 verified, and from that hour the northern little 
 mountain state of Piedmont, known as the Idngdom 
 of the Two Sardinias, became a factor among the 
 great figures that make up the sum of Euroj)e ; no 
 longer a cipher, but an admitted and acknowledged 
 active element and institution.
 
 26 COUNT CAA'OUR IN 1850. 
 
 Our own statesman, Mr. Gladstone, helped on 
 the great work, for he visited and exposed in 
 burning words, and in stirring and indignant 
 eloquence, all his own, the horrors of Neapolitan 
 prisons, the shocking cruelties perpetrated, and the 
 miseries undergone by the state political prisoners 
 in the dungeons of Naples. 
 
 All this paved the way for a gradual approach and 
 appeal to Napoleon II. and his Idces NapoJeonnincx 
 of nationalities, which that monarch, finding that 
 all was rij)e, and that Italy was under the guidance 
 of a great statesman, who could safely be trusted at 
 the helm, accepted and undertook. Then came the 
 celebrated New-year's reception of the diplomatic 
 body, and Napoleon's stern accosting of the Austrian 
 Ambassador, who made his bow and retired. After 
 this followed Magenta, Montabella, and Solferino. 
 The temporary peace patched up at Villa Franca 
 over a cutlet and a cigar, was merely arranged from 
 Napoleon's horror at the bloody sights he had seen 
 at Solferino, and the natural desire of both monarchs 
 to stop the further terrible slaughter. 
 
 Cavour held his tongue and showed an admirable 
 patience, although probably hill of bitter disappoint- 
 ment at seeing the work unfinished. He bided his 
 time, as he alwaj^s had done. Soon, however, the 
 hour came, and the man Garibaldi and his red- 
 shirts sent Bomba to the right-about. Meanwhile 
 Cavour went on quietly preparing his country for
 
 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 27 
 
 the great effort whicli he saw must be made while 
 Napoleon still ruled France. Cavour saw that 
 France had only whetted her appetite for military 
 glory ; that she had insufficient laurels in her 
 contest with Eussia, when in good sooth the 
 Muscovite had stoutly held his own. He saw that 
 she would throw down the gauntlet to Prussia, and 
 then the hour would come for Italy to strike again 
 for Venice and Kome. 
 
 'Twas in his lonely chamber that Cavour, deep in 
 
 thought, 
 Sadly pondered o'er the future — little light the 
 
 prospect brought, 
 And the shadows dark and gloomy that the gloaming 
 
 cast athwart 
 The dim and latticed window, chilled the noble 
 
 patriot's heart. 
 
 " If I westward cast my eyes, what meets my vision 
 
 there ? 
 A dotard frail and feeble sits in the papal chair,
 
 28 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 
 
 And Kome throned on her seven hills, where Em- 
 perors erst did rule, 
 
 Sees a shaveling, false and feeble, ensconced upon 
 his stool, 
 
 Mumble forth his pater noster, his ' Xon possumus — 
 We can't ; ' 
 
 Soon in a voice of thunder we'll answer, ' No, you 
 shan't ! ' 
 
 If my gaze I then tm-n eastward, what meets my 
 
 vision there ? 
 See Lombardy's fair plains, a prospect rich and 
 
 rare. 
 See Milan's stately towers and her vast catherdral 
 
 dome. 
 Only barracks for Tedeschi, and for barbarous 
 
 Croats a home." 
 
 Thus meditating sadly, his eye fell on the wine, 
 Eichly mantling in his goblet, fresh from its home 
 
 grown vine. 
 " I pledge thee, my country, thou sunny land of 
 
 mine ! " 
 He raised the goblet to his lips to (juaff the generous 
 
 wine.
 
 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850.. 29 
 
 He raised the goblet to his lips, when hark ! the 
 
 loi;d tattoo, 
 And the di-ummers came all drumming, and fifes, a 
 
 noisy crew ; 
 Each lady with averted gaze, and down-drawn veil 
 
 will meet 
 Men and officers white-coated as they swagger down 
 
 the street. 
 
 He paled ! 'twas but a moment, for soon his patriot 
 
 pride 
 Kushed crimson to his forehead in a darkly flushing 
 
 tide — 
 Flushed crimson to his temples ; all chances he 
 
 defied. 
 " My country ! my country ; thou art a name 
 
 alone, 
 What art thou, my country ! what art thou now 
 
 but stone ? " 
 
 He cast the cup, untasted, and broken at his feet ; 
 " Thy juices for the foreigner, for me it is not meet 
 To di'ink and to be merry, while those sounds are in 
 the street.
 
 30 COUNT CAVOUR IN 1850. 
 
 Oh ! Marino Faliero, and ye Doges, who of old, 
 Eowed forth in stately galleys and dropped your 
 
 rings of gold ! 
 Ye mighty dead arise, in spirit be with me, 
 And, with God and king assisting, Italia shall b@ 
 
 free. 
 
 Oh ! Venetia, fair and beautiful, the ocean's wedded 
 
 bride. 
 How fallen are thy fortunes, how broken is thy pride ! 
 No longer merchant navies deeply laden on thy tide 
 Cast their treasures on thy jetties, and at their 
 
 anchors ride." 
 He ceased, and rose triumphant, triumphant o'er his 
 
 gloom, 
 And looked like some grim warrior just risen from 
 
 the tomb.
 
 KING WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA AND 
 BENEDETTL
 
 KING WILLIAM OF PEUSSIA AND 
 BENEDETTL 
 
 In the very crisis and pinch of the Franco -German 
 war, when our rehxtious with Germany were tres ac- 
 centnees, a one-sided meeting was called by certain 
 foohsh, impulsive individuals, who demanded, and 
 made a great disturbance at not obtaining, the use 
 of the Mansion House — a meeting to express 
 sympathy with France, and their, forsooth, dis- 
 approval of the conduct of Germany ! The then 
 Lord Mayor and Corporation, with their usual 
 common sense, and then- still stronger sense of 
 justice, refused the use of premises belonging to the 
 public for the purposes of a few individuals who 
 wanted to bring themselves into notoriety at the 
 expense of the nation. The' writer had organized a 
 meetuig, to be presided over by the highest in the 
 land, to assure the Germans of the absolute neu- 
 trality of England, and of then- admiration of the 
 character of the Germans. It is fondly hoped any 
 soreness may be removed that may have possibly 
 
 D
 
 34 KING WILLIAM OF PKU3SIA 
 
 been occasioned by the wild and random speeches of 
 ignorant and unreasoning men, who have not taken 
 the trouble of mastermg facts and learning the truth 
 for themselves. The Germans have not answered 
 calumny with calumny, or misrepresentation with 
 misrepresentation ; they have patiently and gently 
 submitted to be defamed ; to time and to Providence 
 they have trusted to vmdicate the slanders on their 
 names ; but their English cousins must not be silent 
 aiiy longer, but must boldly stand forth and hail the 
 duwn of peace, and greet miited Germany. 
 
 " Germania needs no bulwarks, uo towers along the steep : 
 Her fortress is her children's love, so i)ure, so grand, so 
 deep 1 " 
 
 'Twas to Ems' life-giving waters, where Dame 
 
 Nature, kindty nurse ! 
 Laughs at learned chemists' potions, and doctors' 
 
 fee-filled purse, 
 And from her own prescription mixes med'cines 
 
 strong and rare. 
 Crying, ' ' Come ye all and drink me ; drink deep and 
 
 do not spare." 
 
 'Twas thither that the brave old King, to rest each 
 war-worn hmb,
 
 AND BENEDETTI. 35 
 
 Betook him, little tliiuking of war and warfare grim ; 
 Full of peace and peaceful visions of bis cliildreu, 
 
 brave and fair, 
 Of bis honoured, love-crowned home, and the SAveet 
 
 affections there. 
 
 And he walked forth in the morning, and it made 
 bis heart rejoice 
 
 To see the gay crowd cluster, and to bear their light- 
 some voice. 
 
 Lo ! a courtier smart approaches, a Plenipo' so 
 
 bland. 
 From Paris is his mission, and he comes to make 
 
 demand : 
 " France shall dictate to the nations, and who dare 
 
 say her nay ? " 
 " Well, Germany is peaceful, if at peace remain she 
 
 may ! " 
 
 He turned him on bis heel, and bis proud bead 
 
 bowed be low. 
 As be gave bis scornful conr/e to the lacquey of bis 
 
 foe. 
 
 And the loiterers who lingered to gaze upon the 
 scene
 
 36 KING WILLIAM OF PRUSSIA, 
 
 Thought how loj'ally he bore himself with majesty 
 serene. 
 
 Aud Germania heard with wonder,* not unmixed 
 
 witli secret awe, 
 How well her ruler ruled himself, and still obeyed 
 
 the law. 
 
 Well I ween had Eoyal William been but a peasant 
 
 clown, 
 The insult he'd have hurled back, and struck the 
 
 braiTi^art down. 
 
 Germania heard the insult ; she bared her strong 
 
 right arm, 
 She bid the beacon blaze abroad and sound the 
 
 war's alarm. 
 
 Eight well her children answered— hark to the 
 gathering cry ! 
 
 " Wave Ehineland ! all thy banners wave ! " West- 
 phalia makes reply. 
 
 "Up, Hesse and Nassau! up! arise! the clarion's 
 note is high ; 
 
 Bayern and Pommern wake ! arise ! " Black Bruns- 
 wick makes reply.
 
 BISMARCK: HIS CHAEACTEE.
 
 BISMAECK: HIS CHAEACTEE. 
 
 In 1803, wiio so popular a tli3me of unpopularity, 
 so heartily and universally abused, as Bismarck ? 
 Alone, unknown, unrecognised, save as a Country 
 Squire, and as holding a subordinate administrative 
 appointment, he had the courage to bell the cat and 
 take the bull by the horns. Having all his plans 
 cut and dried, and being prepared to stand the 
 racquet and brave all, he knew that he must be the 
 scapegoat, the " Sunden Bock," and be willing to be 
 considered for a long time the mere mouthpiece and 
 tool of the Eoyal and military party, the mere 
 puppet put forward by the ultra-Conservative and 
 old " Kreutz Zeituug " party. No one misconstrues 
 or misinterprets him now ! His ends, his aims, his 
 objects, are all understood and appreciated now. 
 His countrymen know that they are all one with 
 him, that he certainly entertains no arriere peimees, 
 that he has no private ambitions, no private and
 
 40 BISMAECK : HIS CHAEACTER. 
 
 personal aspirations, no self-seeking, nor nilgar, 
 mean, low liankerings, common to many great and 
 mighty men of statecraft ; but that lie is indeed the 
 spirit of great Germany, that great Fatherland so long 
 undefined, the genius of " Doutschland," embodied, 
 incarnate, and personified. Strong, bluff, bold; free- 
 hearted and healthy in physique, and genial and jocund 
 of temper ; a slow, deep thinker ; a calm reasoner. 
 The nearest approximation to him in history is 
 Cromwell, but a Cromwell all " guiltless of his 
 country's blood," purer and more unselfish in his 
 aims, but of the same strong, hard type, a type bes-t 
 described as of ''blood and iron," Washington is, 
 perhaps, a nearer approximation, but Washington 
 was of a milder, gentler stamp, Avhose rule was 
 played on the boards of a very small stage, so to 
 speak ; America, or rather Virgmia, Pennsylyania, 
 and New England, were mere young colonies, to 
 whom the foolish old country had proved a harsh 
 stei^-mother, and which had been alteiiiately neg- 
 lected and bullied by the wrong-headed, short- 
 sighted clique, who held with so shaky a hand the 
 reins of government. Washington merely had to 
 take the command of liai'dy emigrants and bacli- 
 woodsmen, whose rifle was never out of their hands, 
 pioneers of the wilderness, inured to hardships and 
 endurance. With such men and such metal at 
 his back, and with such tools to work with, was it 
 anything very wonderful that he was able to success-
 
 BISMARCK : HIS CHARACTER. 41 
 
 fully cope with, and ultimately overcome, mere 
 levies of foreign mercenary bands, mere paid " con- 
 dottieri," with no interest or soul in the struggle, or 
 care for ought save then- pay ? Nevertheless, the 
 purity of their characters and disinterested devotion 
 to their country make these tv\'0 patriots resemble 
 each other, and render them in their nature akin. 
 Like Cincinnatus, who after freeing Eome went 
 back to walk between the stilts of his plough, where 
 they first found him, so Washington retired again 
 to private life and the pursuit of agriculture vvheu 
 his work was done and the Constitution proclaimed. 
 So Bismarck is never so happy as when marking 
 trees in the woods at Varsin. In our own tune, and 
 in the epoch of nearly contemporary history, his 
 nearest type is Sir Eobert Peel, that great states- 
 man having for some thirty years been the idol and 
 mouthpiece and doughty champion of the old Tory 
 and ultra-Conservative party, not as a paid gladiator 
 or delegate, but from a pure and deeply-seated con- 
 viction that in serving that party he was best serving 
 the interests of his country. He advocated their 
 cause and fought their battles with the most devoted 
 self-sacrifice and courage, and with the most un- 
 flinching zeal. When his calm, far-seeing gaze and 
 penetratmg vision had detected with a prophetic dis- 
 cernment that the time had at length arrived, and the 
 crisis come, for his party to make a great concession, 
 he at once made up his mind, and boldly threw over
 
 42 BISMARCK : HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 and cast to the winds all doubts, and fears, and 
 liesitatious. He saw that Free Trade was no 
 political question, or a casn>^ belli on which Conser- 
 vatives and Liberals should take their stand and 
 join issue, but that it was a mere commercial 
 expeiiment that the exigencies of the times required 
 should be tried ; a riddle that could only be read, 
 an enigma that could only be solved by events, and 
 results and circumstances attending the experiment. 
 Our vast and teeming population cried aloud with 
 an imperious voice for that experiment to be tried. 
 The Corn Laws had done their work, and had done 
 good and yeomanly service. Protection had raised 
 up a hardy, contented rural population, a " bold 
 peasantry, their country's pride ! " had raised a 
 race of loyal, comfortable, thriving Bonifaces, 
 farmers, and yeomen, the very backbone of a king- 
 dom, the thews and sinews of a nation. Heaths 
 and moors, commons and waste lands, had been 
 enclosed ; swamps and fens and marshes had been 
 drained ; foreshores and sandy dunes reclaimed ; 
 peats and mosses warped and pared and burned, 
 and a system of scientific agriculture and high 
 farming introduced, all under the fostering influence 
 of Protection, and the prospect of large gains which 
 will alone ever have charms to attract capital and 
 create surprise. So far, so good ! Protection like 
 the monks of old, had done its work and done it 
 well, but like them, their work being done, their day
 
 BISMAECK : HIS CHARACTER. 43 
 
 had come ; with both it was a case of " Fuit Ihon ; " 
 both had to make a bow and retire from the stage. 
 As the population increased and moutlis multiplied, 
 so it stood to reason and became a logical sequence 
 and capable of mathematical demonstration, that if 
 40 acres could supply sufficient bread for 400 
 mouths, as those mouths multiplied to 4000 so 40 
 acres would be insufficient, and it was not likely 
 that the hungry millions would hear tell of vast 
 plains in Eussia and Poland, in Wallachia and 
 Moldavia, of rolling prairies in Illinois and Wiscon- 
 sin, and all the Far West, where the soil, two feet 
 thick of rich black loam, would laugh with corn 
 when tickled with the plough, where wheat was 
 produced in such vast abundance that granaries and 
 warehouses could not be built fast enough to store 
 it, — was it likely they would shut their ears to such 
 stories of abundance ? They did listen, they opened 
 wide their ears, quickened to a keen sense of hearing 
 by the pangs of hunger and an unfilled stomach ; 
 they opened wide their famine -hollowed eyes at the 
 recountal of these strange tales of fabulous and over- 
 flowing abundance and unheard-of plenty. They 
 listened and they learned, and they cried aloud with 
 a voice so loud and shrill that, like the " Ancient 
 Mariner " to the " Wedding Guest," he could not 
 choose but hear. Sir R. Peel did hear ; he saw the 
 time had indeed arrived, he saw that the great party 
 he had so long served and led, did not appreciate the
 
 44 BISMABCK : HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 situation ; lie chose Lis part, he accepted his mission, 
 he did not flincli or shrink from the pains and 
 agonies of the wrenching asunder of the ties by 
 which his very heart-strings had been so long 
 lovingly intertwined with his party : that party did 
 not, alas ! sufficiently recognise the glorious self- 
 abnegation and self-sacrifice of the man. More 
 happy Bismarck ! He too saw the time had come 
 for his party — the old " Ivi-eutz Zeitung," ultra- 
 Conservative, Junker party — to make a great con- 
 cession, to surrender all their most cherished and 
 valued rights and privileges and powers. The 
 master he served, the grand old King, knew the 
 honesty and loyalty and pride of his faithful servant, 
 and backed him Avith all his personal weight and 
 influence. All honour to the German, and especially 
 to the Prussian nobility and upper classes, who 
 recognised the situation and trusted implicitly to 
 the wisdom and prudence of their faithful champion, 
 and did not cover him with abuse as a traitor to his 
 party, or tax him with selling his friends, but 
 graciously and without reserve made the concessions 
 he advised, and yielded them not grudgingly, but 
 freely and cheerfully. 
 
 Our people have been too long accustomed to 
 the license and liberty of an utterly uncontrolled 
 self-will, to recognise, at the moment, the gross 
 neglect of a citizen towards his fellows and the State 
 of which he is a member, in not voluntarily coming
 
 BISMAECK : HIS CHARACTER. 45 
 
 forward to learn the use of arms, so that he may be 
 quahfied to lend his aid in defending his country in 
 her hour of need. Universal education will teach 
 this, and universal compulsory military service is 
 only the logical sequence and complement of uni- 
 versal compulsory education. The one shows the 
 citizen whom it has taught that he is not doing his 
 duty to the State which has given him that priceless 
 benefit of education, unless he shows his gratitude 
 by qualifying himself to defend the giver ; that the 
 chivalrous and noble nature of man, which has long 
 been undeveloped and lain hidden as it VN^ere under 
 a bushel, when lit up by education and intelligence, 
 purified by a free religion, and disciiilined by habits 
 of order and method, attams a far higher standard 
 of excellence than has yet been reached. Germany 
 has learnt by the hard lessons of adversity, taught 
 by the First Napoleon, that man must stoop to 
 conquer, and that the meanest individual in a State 
 has not only his own selfish interests to attend to, 
 but has to give them up cheerfully and willingly for 
 the good of the State and body pohtic of which he 
 is a member. The ancient legend so well known 
 throughout Germany, of the Emperor Barbarossa 
 sunk down in an enchanted sleep, surrounded by 
 warriors, has an exact resemblance to the tradition 
 current on the Tweed, and made the subject of a 
 most beautiful poem by Sir Walter Scott — "The 
 Shepherd's Tale."
 
 46 
 
 BISMARCK : HIS CHAEACTER. 
 
 I marked a stalwart figure that long had pondering 
 
 stood, 
 Sober and stern he seemed of cheer, immutable of 
 
 mood, 
 And he gazed upon a picture, a picture strange and 
 
 rare, — 
 The Kaiser Barbarossa and his mailed hosts were 
 
 there. 
 
 As he gazed upon the picture, he deep witLin him 
 
 thought, 
 " What means this ancient legend ? " and all around 
 
 him sought 
 For some way to read the riddle, but his brain no 
 
 answer brought, 
 Till at length he rose inspired, dilated his huge size, 
 The sense of power grandly beaming in quiet from 
 
 his eyes : 
 
 " Ho ! 'tis clear to me as noonday, — how could I e"er 
 
 have sought 
 So widely for its meaning, when so close at hand 'tis 
 
 brought ? 
 The parable is plain, the metaphor not deep, 
 Ignorance and Superstition cast down in death-like 
 
 sleex?
 
 BISMARCK : HIS CHASACTEK. 47 
 
 The might of mighty nations, and o'er their senses 
 
 creep 
 A dull and torpid lethargy, and their souls in slumber 
 
 Education is the watchword that shall rouse the 
 
 sleeping host, 
 Drill and discipline the ordeal that shall quell the 
 
 foeman's boast. 
 The chivalry of old shall wed with free, untrammeled 
 
 thought, 
 Intelligence and discipline shall to the work be 
 
 brought. 
 Patience and abnegation of self, and devotion to 
 
 others, 
 These, Holy Fatherland, shall make thee a nation 
 
 of brothers. 
 
 From the dawning of creation and its ages past, I 
 
 ween, 
 No people so united and so strong has e'er been seen. 
 Dost think that when unto the plough this hand is 
 
 put, I'll turn 
 To the follies of this foohsh world ? All pleasures 
 
 light I spurn.
 
 48 BISMARCK : HIS CHARACTER. 
 
 With these mighty ends before me, these objects 
 
 great iu view, 
 I'll scorn all else beside, to one steady purpose true. 
 
 Deutschlaud, Deutschland, Uberalles ! my waking 
 
 thoughts at night ; 
 Deutschland, Deutschland, Uberalles ! my thoughts 
 
 at morning bright." 
 As the meaning dawned upon him of the legend old 
 
 and wild, 
 His heart svre;led high within him, and he wept like 
 
 anv child. 
 
 " 'Tis mine to speak the watchword, 'tis for me to 
 
 dare and do ; 
 'Tis for me the mighty task to bring the legend true ! 
 Soon the day shall dawn for Europe, and our Kaiser 
 
 King shall ride 
 "With Deutschland's flag united, his gallant chiefs 
 
 beside. 
 
 Yes, our gallant Kaiser Wilhelm shall from the 
 
 mountain's side 
 Issue forth with steel-clad squadrons, and through 
 
 the nations ride.
 
 BISMARCK : HIS CHARACTER. 49 
 
 He shall ride forth with his freeborn knights through 
 
 all the fettered lands ; 
 And at his voice so loud and free shall burst the 
 
 Papal bands. 
 
 The mill grinds very slowly, but it grinds exceeding 
 
 small, 
 Prince and peasant, high and lowly, skilled warriors 
 
 one and all. 
 When schoolmaster and drill-serjeaut have done 
 
 their work in full, 
 And the bands of iron discipline hold all in iron 
 
 rule ; 
 When level for the charge Germauia's arms are laid, 
 Where lives the desperate foe that e'er such onset 
 
 stayed ? "
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON'S DEPARTURE 
 FOR SEDAN.
 
 LOUIS NAPOLEON'S DEPARTURE FOR 
 SEDAN. 
 
 In Louis Napoleon England liad a true friend, both 
 in peace and war, and no relations ever existed 
 between two nations, as far as he was concerned, 
 so loyal and true. After tlie Crimean War, where 
 the French had seen our weakness, just as the 
 Prussians did that of the Austriajas during the 
 Danish campaign, our demagogues took the oppor- 
 tunity of doing everything they could to insult and 
 outrage the Emperor, and through him the French 
 nation and army. One of our most vulgar and 
 blatant, noisj^ brazen Buzfuzes, made an absurd, 
 catch -penny, pot-house speech in defence of 
 Dr. Bei'nhard and the Orsini, who had openly 
 counselled and publicly advised through their organs 
 the assassination of Louis Napoleon. This con- 
 temptible snob had a sort of penny, tawdry ovation 
 among the refugees and scum of Leicester Square. 
 His clap-trap, balderdash speech, was translated 
 and fully reported in all the continental journals. 
 The French were justly, and with ample reason,
 
 54 LOUIS napoleon's 
 
 hixrt and offended, and nothing but the admirable 
 tact and discretion of Lord Palmerston, and the 
 firm loyalty to us of Louis Napoleon, prevented pur 
 being attacked ; and thus this great country, its 
 peace, its prosperity, and all its future, were put in 
 jeopardy and deadly peril by the wretched balder- 
 dash and windy rubbish of an ass like this, who put 
 himself forward, forsooth, as the mouthpiece of 
 England and Magna Charta ! England apparently 
 likes being humbugged, or, rather, John Bull is so 
 honest that he believes all his children are so. 
 
 Twenty years of piping, prosperous peace ! full 
 
 twenty years had flown, 
 And Napoleon the silent sat watching on his throne. 
 When Anarchy awoke, all reeking from her lair. 
 She blinked and curst God's sunshine ; she curst 
 
 God's balmy air ; 
 
 She scowled at steady stripling; she scowled at 
 
 modest maid ; 
 She joined each ribald witling to sneer at matron 
 
 staid. 
 She scowled at laughing children, they shuddered 
 
 and grew cold ;
 
 DEPARTURE FOR SEDAN. 55 
 
 She scowled at merry maidens ; she scowled at 
 
 young and old ; 
 She scowled at honest workmen, home trudging 
 
 from their toil, 
 And to see their honest faces it made her black 
 
 blood boil. 
 
 She scowled till she grew frantic, for in her heart 
 
 was gloom ; 
 She looked not 'cross the Atlantic, where for all 
 
 there's ample room. 
 " We've had enough of labour, and enough of toil 
 
 have we, 
 Henceforth to knife and sabre give all till we be free. 
 
 Our rulers and employers against us are arrayed ; 
 Statesmen, priests, and crafty lawyers, slaves of us 
 
 all have made ; 
 Our Emperor's grown a coward, our country's in 
 
 the dust ; 
 Napoleon dare not draw the sword, it's covered all 
 
 with rust." , 
 
 Napoleon sat him silent, despairingly he smiled. 
 " I'll win them yet, I'll win them, those spirits 
 fierce and wild !
 
 56 LOUIS napoleon's 
 
 Let's try the spell of kindness — the si:)ell of measures 
 
 mild, 
 I'll he patient and forhearing, and meek as little child. 
 I'll give them all they crave for, I'll make one more 
 
 concess, 
 I'll give the boon long asked for — full liberty of press. 
 Like England let them bask in the sunshine of the 
 
 press." 
 
 He gave — how did they use it ? — the boon so wise 
 
 withheld, 
 He knew they would abuse it ; "No thanks ! " they 
 
 loudly yelled. 
 All that's good and noble in the land it draggled in 
 
 the mire, 
 And scorching words of hatred are writ in lines of 
 
 fire. 
 Orleanists and angry Bourbons all filled with greed 
 
 of power — 
 Even Thiers himself, that statesman old, in France's 
 
 fatal hour. 
 " Nous sommes trahis ! nous sommes trahis ! " was 
 
 the maddening mob's wild cry. 
 " Nous sommes trahis! nous sommes trahis!" the 
 
 gamins make reply.
 
 DEPARTURE FOR SEDAN. 57 
 
 Tlius hoimiled ou and overwhelmed, an earthquake 
 in his rear, 
 
 The tortured monarch sheds one bitter, sad, salt 
 tear. 
 
 " Oh, Paris ! giddy Paris ! how fickle is thy smile ! 
 Thou hast lured thy children onwards with Plea- 
 sure's fatal wile." 
 
 A lady lone sat waiting — she mourned her absent 
 
 lord, 
 With courage unabating he'd drawn his rusting 
 
 sword. 
 His pain-worn limbs were braced, his courage rose 
 
 anew. 
 In Pleasure's hour imlaced, his harness on he drew. 
 
 Oh, many were the tears those beauteous eyes had 
 
 shed, 
 As she worked the bright word " Glory ! " in the 
 
 gay and glancing thread. 
 " It shall flutter, noble lady, where France's bravest 
 
 •ride. 
 And my steel-clad files of Cuirassiers shall greet thy 
 
 gift with pride,
 
 58 LOUIS napoleon's departure for sedan. 
 
 When they see the silken banner flaunt bravely on 
 
 their wing, 
 And echoing shouts of ' Vive la France ! ' shall 
 
 make the welkin ring. 
 And if the worst betide me, why better gyve and 
 
 rope. 
 Than life with Raspail for a King, Pere Duchesne 
 
 for a Pope. 
 Whatsoever fate befall me, I'll never lose my hope, 
 That brighter days will dawn for France, and 
 
 France her eyes will ope. 
 And cheerfully I'll march to death, with bold un- 
 swerving stride. 
 And Paris, blinded Paris, shall think of me with 
 
 pride." 
 
 He turned his charger as he spake, " Farewell for 
 
 evermore ! " 
 He gave his bridle reins a shake, "Adieu! adieu! 
 
 once more." 
 He spurred his horse and rode away, though racked 
 
 with ache and pain ; 
 He left the walls of Paris gay, ne'er to visit them 
 
 again.
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS.
 
 THE CZAK NICHOLAS, 
 
 EussiA teems with tlie materials out of which great 
 minds are formed. Her vast Empire had long 
 remained in the honds of ignorance and barbarism : 
 
 " Kussia, and Bussia's strength, lay long in darkest night ; 
 God said, ' Let Peter be,' and straightway there was light." 
 
 Russia has indeed been lucky alike in her rulers 
 and the ruled. When we looli back at what was 
 accomplished by Peter the Great, Catherine, 
 Nicholas, and last, but greatest of ail, in his 
 beneficent eflbrts for the happiness of his people, 
 Alexander II., the present Emperor, we may indeed 
 say, " There were giants in those days ! " Every 
 eye, bright with patriotism and enthusiasm, is now 
 turned with admira.tion on the present Czar Alex- 
 ander the Gentle. It was said of Coeur de Lion, 
 and also of the great Earl of Warwick, the king- 
 maker, " In him was valour and benevolence com- 
 bined." So as Russia in her annals in former 
 years had Peter the Great and Ivan the Terrible, 
 so now, just as Italia in Victor Emmanuel has the
 
 02 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 liappiness of liaving her " Ee Gtilantuorao," so 
 Eussia will record in her future roll call of glorious 
 Czars, " Alexander the Gentle." He accomplished 
 the greatest work of all — the Emancipation of the 
 Serfs. 
 
 When we look at the awful cruelties and suffer- 
 ings, the ferocious hatreds and deadly hostility 
 which distinguished the sad internecine stru2;a:le 
 between the free Northern and the Southern slave- 
 holding states of the Great Eepublic, we are lost in 
 wonder that in an Empire so vast, a change so 
 sweeping, so grand, so utterly unexpected and 
 unhoped for by its millions, could possibly be 
 brought about with a perfect, utter, entire, complete 
 success, that we can only say, " the blessing of 
 God was on the work!" Under him we must 
 ascribe it to the unequalled and perfect docility of 
 the Eussian people, their childlike love for the 
 Czar, their tacit obedience and respect for their 
 Government, their deep, all-pervadii-ig sense of 
 religion and fear of God. 
 
 The personal interest of the ruling and landown- 
 ing classes work clearly in direct antagonism to any 
 surrender of a single jot or iota of their privileges, 
 but they yielded them up to the amelioration of the 
 many. 
 
 While, however, we give to the lords of the soil 
 the full credit to which they are entitled for their 
 generosity and self-abnegation, we must give no
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 63 
 
 less credit to the masses. These Litter found, tliem- 
 sclves suddenly, without preparation and without 
 being educated up to it, in a new-born state of 
 unfettered freedom. Very few nations would have 
 stood the test, but this northern nation, sunk as 
 they had been in the darkness of universal igno- 
 rance, suddenly emerged to occupy a situation equal 
 in its freedom to that of the most independent 
 Briton or American. In a calm and i)atient spirit 
 of the most perfect obedience to, and reliance 
 on, their Government and rulers, this immense 
 empu'e has been led onward through the various 
 grades of improvement up to a rational and per- 
 manent liberty. 
 
 Translations from the Eussian Poets. 
 
 To the student of history who observes and 
 closely analyses the rise and fall of nations and 
 peoples, nothing can be more interesting and de- 
 lightful than to mark the early dawn of literature 
 and intellect. Now that Eussia has emerged from 
 her primeval stflte of chaos and barbarism into the 
 fierce light of progress and civilisation, it will be 
 a deeply interesting task to contrast the present 
 modern rich feasts of Slavonic literature, romance, 
 and poetry, with the earlier gems that appeared, few 
 and far between, lilve angel's visits, in her remoter 
 and darker ages. Eussia now stands forth the 
 observed of all observers, with the eyes of the whole
 
 64 THE CZAK NICHOLAS. 
 
 civilized world upon her, as an object of the greatest 
 admiration and wonder. She is an instance of what 
 can be effected by what is described in our English 
 idiom, "along pull, a strong pull, and a pull all 
 together." She has had the benefit of a few master 
 minds who have been filled with the sjjirit of devo- 
 tion to their country, but the efforts of these master 
 minds would have been powerless if they had not been 
 seconded by the wonderful docility, and the loyal, 
 tractable spirit of the masses of the people. It is 
 difficult to realize how it was possible for the present 
 Czar to have effected such a wide, sweeping, and 
 entire reform as the emancipation of the serfs. We 
 must, however, give equal credit to the nobility, 
 gentry, and landowners, who cheerfully, graciously, 
 and ungrudgingly surrendered and gave up what 
 was to them almost life or death, tie power of 
 owning souls. This was a privilege and institution 
 handed down to them and inherited from their 
 forefathers. All honour, therefore, be to them who 
 gave up such a privilege ! 
 
 The war against Russia, commonly called the 
 Crimean War, was a war into which, as a statesman 
 truly said, " we drifted ; " the result, almost always, 
 of a feeble line of policy. The Manchester School, 
 as a body comprising many men of vast and compre- 
 hensive vision, having many ideas in themselves 
 sound, were hurried by the Extreme Left of the 
 party, and allowed some of the more zealous and
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 65 
 
 enthusiastic of their leaders to be their uncontrolled 
 mouthpiece. Thus Cobden, great as he was in 
 matters of commerce, which he understood, was 
 quite at sea when he ventured into the unknown 
 ocean of continental questions. On one occasion, 
 in a violent speech in favour of Kossuth, whom he 
 knew nothing about, he dared Russia to interfere in 
 the civil war then raging between Austria and Hun- 
 gary — a war, it may be added, wliieh was solely one 
 of nationalities and races. His words were, " We 
 will crumple up Eussia as I crumple up this bit of 
 j)aper." If Cobden, always ready to admit he was 
 wrong, were alive now, he would be the first to 
 admit how much at random and off book he spake. 
 Eussia has shown herself not so easy to crumple up. 
 When attacked by the united forces of Christendom 
 and Mahommedanism she stood bravely at bay, and 
 strong in the devoted attachment of the people to 
 their Czar, then' deep sense of religion, and patient, 
 confiding submission to their Government, thay 
 showed a quiet, enduring power of resistance, and 
 slow, plodding, dogged determination that could not 
 fail to inspire their enemies with respect. Eussia's 
 rulers always select and endow with tha highest 
 rew^,rds men who show capacity, and Todleben, of 
 German extraction, well repaid such selection. 
 Mouravieff, in spite of the tremendous call upon 
 Russia's forces in the Crimea, was able to neutralize 
 the glorious defence of Kars ; and as the incom- '
 
 GO THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 peteiicy ami Avant of foresight of the ahied Generals 
 neglected to march the Turkish contingent, lying 
 idle and unemployed at Kertch and elsewhere, to its 
 relief, it capitulated, and three of our best officers, 
 Fen-vvick AVilliams, Lake, and Teesdale, were taken 
 prisoners. Our generals could not see, that if they 
 had only joined the army of Omar Pasha in relieving 
 Kars they might then have easily obtained posses- 
 sion of TiHis and. Georgia, roused the whole of 
 Circassia, and struck a mortal blow at Russia in her 
 most vital paii. But as the Russian officers said, 
 "Your eyes were smitten with blindness." Simi- 
 larly after Alma, if the fleet had lauded a few hun- 
 dred blue-jackets and marines at the Bolbek, between 
 Sebastopol and the heights of Alma, when the 
 Russians fled into the town, a sudden attack inter- 
 cepting them might have driven Menschikoff's army 
 into the interior at once, and the allies might have 
 entered the town thus open and unguarded from the 
 land side. Todleben's genius at once saw how 
 little we knew what we were about, and when it 
 once came to a game of longbowls it simply became 
 a question of which could pound longest and hardest. 
 The attack at Inkcrman was well planned, and 
 ought to have succeeded. It failed in its details. 
 The Russian army ought to have advanced much 
 farther ere it deployed ; had they swept on in column 
 right away to near Veruoutka, and made a feigned 
 attack only at Inkerman, all the allied forces would
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 67 
 
 have massed and concentrated at Inkerman, and the 
 left wijag of the Eussians might have come down 
 above Balaclava and shelled the shipping. Where 
 should we have been then ? 
 
 Deep sleeping lay the Monarch, 
 Deep sleeping lay the Czar ; 
 
 He dreamt of Holy Eussia, 
 He dreamt of glorious war. 
 
 Strength and valour lay reposing, 
 In slumber deep unfeigned ; 
 
 On that stern and haughty forehead 
 A calm profoundly reigned. 
 
 Yet on that calm unruffled brow, 
 
 Indignant valour shone, 
 As he thought of foul profaneness 
 
 In holy places done. 
 
 He raised him from his iron couch, 
 He stretched his mightv arms, — 
 
 " Not for me the wine-cup sparkhng, 
 Not for me shine beauty's charms.
 
 68 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 My daily task must onward, 
 
 The task stern duty taught ; 
 Each morning sees some task begun, 
 
 Each evening sees it wrought. 
 
 Shall Clmstian nations stand aloof, 
 
 And stand in mute amaze, 
 As on Jerusalem's fair towers 
 
 And ruined shrines they gaze ? 
 
 Shall Turk and Moslem dare pollute 
 
 The sacred House of God ? 
 Shall turbaned Infidel dare tread 
 
 Where holy footsteps trod ? 
 
 "We've had enough of jargon ; 
 
 Enough of chatter we ; 
 Diplomatists have done their work, 
 
 The end we'll quickly see." 
 
 Through the gates the white Czar wandered, 
 Thus he mused, and sadly pondered, 
 Musing on his destinv : — 
 
 " To put down mob and faction 
 With stern and ready action ; 
 To punish law's infraction ; 
 This is my destiny.
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 69 
 
 Eepublican or Cossack, 
 
 Europe must take her choice ; 
 Order must he established, 
 
 And stilled Eebellion's voice." 
 
 Then, like a wizard 
 
 In his dark retreat. 
 He calls his spirits round him. 
 
 Here 'twere meet 
 Eecord each hero skilled in warfare's game, 
 
 Each wielding leader's staff: 
 But 'twere too long to name. 
 
 Myriads of warriors, armed, 
 
 Around like statues stand. 
 And stand in silence, mute, 
 
 To wait his high command. 
 
 He scans with practised eye 
 
 Their serried, stern array, 
 Like eagle soaring high 
 
 That marks his distant prey. 
 
 Cossacks of Don and Ukraine, 
 
 He rides their rank along ; 
 " Zdrastriute, Batchiouka ! " 
 
 They raise the Euss war-song.
 
 70 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 Go proncUy, horse, go proudly ! 
 
 Thou bearest Csesaj-'s weight ; 
 Thou carriest Hero Kuss, 
 
 Our Czar so stern and great. 
 
 His piercing eye beams proudly, 
 He wears no waving plume, 
 
 His deep voice thunders loudly. 
 Let none a word presume. 
 
 Army on army, in their proud array, 
 Cover the snow-clad plains ; 
 
 Loud booms the cannon's roar. 
 And hoarse artillery's strains. 
 
 " Look forth into the darkness, 
 
 My Lagienka old ; 
 Look forth into the darkness. 
 
 Some tidings must be told. 
 
 An end to dark forebodings. 
 Forebodings dim and sad ; 
 
 Some tidings I must gather — 
 Some tidings, good or bad."
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 71 
 
 " I go, my liege — I hasten ; 
 
 I'll spare nor whip nor spur ! 
 Yet, hold ! I see a herald, 
 
 Bnt age my eyeballs blur. 
 
 I see a grev-hairod veteran, 
 
 He hither wends his way ; 
 He surely brings unto my liege 
 
 Some tidings of the day." 
 
 The soldier stood erect and stiff. 
 
 Saluting soldier-wise, 
 But ne'er a word escaped his lip, 
 
 Salt tears stood in his eyes. 
 
 " What, ho ! wdiat news, my Hetman old? 
 
 With ye how sped the day ? 
 Has fortune smiled upon our arms ? 
 
 The news, come, quickly say. 
 
 Art dumb as well as deaf ? " 
 
 I know thee, warrior true ; 
 Why standest thou then so silent ? 
 
 And why so pale of hue ? 
 
 * General Sase, a veuerable commander, had greatly dis- 
 tinguished himself in the mountain warfare against tlie 
 Circassians. He was a great favourite with Paskiewitch, and 
 was called " the Deaf General."
 
 72 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 Come, tell thy tale full quickly, 
 
 And mind thou tell it true. 
 How fared the battle with thee ? 
 
 Which conquered, they or you ? 
 
 How fought these English mastiffs, 
 These hull -dogs fierce and rude ? 
 
 Have they my legions routed ? 
 Have they my arms withstood ?" 
 
 He raised unto his head his hand ; 
 
 His hand embrowned with toil. 
 His uniform was white with dust, 
 
 His boots all mud and soil. 
 
 " Come, quaff the ' Chaszta Zalatoi,' 
 
 Collect thy wits astray ; 
 Come sit thee down and slow recount 
 
 The tidings of the day.'' 
 
 He tasted not the proffered cup, 
 
 He panted for a word ; 
 Deep sighs from broad breast struggled up ; 
 
 He touched his broken sword.
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 Impatiently the Eomanoff 
 His servant watcliecl awhile ; 
 
 He frowned and said, " Velikii Sass, 
 To see thee makes me smile. 
 
 Dost think thy monarch cannot face 
 
 Misfortune when it comes ? 
 Nay, comrade, take now heart of grace, 
 
 And think thou hear'st the drums." 
 
 He boldly faced his master, 
 
 He stared him in the face : 
 " I come to tell disaster. 
 
 No messenger of grace." 
 
 His tongue was loosed free, 
 His words flow quick apace : 
 
 " Let fools and cowards flatter thee. 
 The mightiest of thv race. 
 
 I'll tell the truth, though scorching 
 
 The bitter truth may be, 
 Our days of camps and marching 
 
 Our nights of agony. 
 
 73
 
 74 THE CZAK NICPIOLAS. 
 
 I've come, my Czar, great Nicholas, 
 I've come from rudest fray ; 
 
 Though bred to arms from childhood u]) 
 I've ne'er seen such day. 
 
 I've quelled the proud Circassian 
 
 As hunters quell the deer, 
 Eeveuge and hate's fierce passion 
 
 Had banished ought like fear. 
 
 I've quelled the sons of Poland, 
 
 The death-defying Hun, 
 But when we've beat these English 
 
 The day's work's just begun. 
 
 They blench not, Sire, they blench not. 
 These beef-devouriug knaves ! 
 
 Their courage cool odds quench not 
 When battle fierce it raves. 
 
 Thev love the roar of battle. 
 These stout ale-swilling churls ! 
 
 They laugh at shell's shrill rattle 
 As death around she hurls.
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 75 
 
 My liege, it boots not weary 
 
 With details long thine ear, 
 As my sad tale unfolds it, 
 
 The truth will soon appear. 
 
 Thine orders were obeyed, 
 No brigade was delayed ; 
 Your children were all ready, 
 No squadron was unsteady. 
 
 Before the holy altars 
 
 Devoted all we bowed ; 
 Not one was coward, traitor, 
 
 Among that countless crowd. 
 
 ^o 
 
 The Papes were at the altars. 
 Confession all was told ; 
 
 They gave us absolution, 
 
 We went forth free and bold. 
 
 They gave us of their cheer, 
 Eye-bread and barley-beer ; 
 
 They gave us such strong ' Vodki/ 
 It brought a scalding tear.
 
 76 THE CZAE NICHOLAS. 
 
 Sliss, Eudiger, Liprandi, 
 Marshalled tliat vast array ; 
 
 Of beef and strong corn-brandy, 
 They stinted not that day. 
 
 We grasped our rifles firmly, 
 We issued from the gate ; 
 
 The chalk cliffs looked down on us, 
 For dawn we would not wait. 
 
 We cannot tell the reason 
 That day it cost us dear, 
 
 But all we know is, beaten — 
 Beaten we were, 'tis clear." 
 
 " Velikee Polko Vodets, 
 
 Well hast thou earned thy due ; 
 
 Eight well thy master values 
 Servant so rough and true. 
 
 Nay ! never pipe thine eye, man, 
 Thy shaggy eyelash wipe ; 
 
 Twist not thy mouth awry, man. 
 Go home and smoke a pipe.
 
 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 77 
 
 I love these deeds of daring, 
 
 I love to hear you tell 
 How well my children bore themselves, 
 
 My sturdy foes, how well. 
 
 Were all my orders carried out ? 
 
 Was each man at his i^ost '? 
 Were all my Hetmaus ready 
 
 To marshal forth my host? 
 
 Was any one there backward ? 
 
 Did any stand aloof '? 
 Was any one a dastard. 
 
 In coward's life behoof ? " 
 
 " Not one there shirked his duty, 
 
 Not one was coward slave ; 
 Thy children were all worthy 
 
 Of thee and comrades brave." 
 
 " I would," quoih grim old Nicholas, 
 
 " That England's trusty sword 
 This day were doing battle 
 
 For the saints and for the Lord.
 
 78 THE CZAR NICHOLAS. 
 
 What brings these sturdy Saxous, 
 What brings our old alhes, 
 
 To herd with bragging Gascons, 
 And join their dark emprize ? 
 
 Shall eagles mate with buzzards ? 
 
 Shall bisons fill a stall ? 
 To France's false usurper 
 
 Shall England grovelhng fall ? " 
 
 Stretched on his bed of iron 
 The djdng monarch lay, 
 
 His thoughts still of his people 
 Though fading fast away, 
 
 " God knows I love my subjects, 
 Though oft I them oppress ; 
 
 I oft mistake and injure 
 
 When I full fain would bless. 
 
 My courtiers all delude me. 
 The truth I cannot find ; 
 
 Oh ! who would be a monarch, 
 And lose his peace of mind ?
 
 THE CZAK NICHOLAS. 79 
 
 I fdiu would live in concord 
 
 AVitli nations near and far, 
 For State-craft and for safety 
 
 Perforce compelled to war." 
 
 In that hour of deep contrition, 
 Clearer lights stole o'er his vision, 
 And his last thought, manumission, 
 Unto serf and thrall to hear. 
 
 A legacy he left his heirs, 
 Bequeathed to him hy his forhears. 
 To free each serf and honded thrall, 
 And make them freemen one and ail. 
 
 A legacy to loose, unbind. 
 Freedom of thought, and will, and mind; 
 Each loosfd, free, unfettered thrall, 
 Shall blessings on his monarch call ; 
 And freeborn sons their Czar shall hail, 
 "Who listened kind to serfdom's wail. 
 This done, his spirit soar'd away — 
 That giant form now senseless clay.
 
 SUNSET OF THE NINETEENTH 
 CENTUEY.
 
 SUNSET OP THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 The Eastern Question ; 
 Meeting of the Three Gkeat Monarchs. 
 
 A state of great uncertainty and ' clisquietude has 
 now existed for nearly two years, misgivings, vagne, 
 mystic, unaccountable, haunt the minds of all. 
 Trade and commerce have been and still remain 
 hampered and paralysed; doubt and suspicion reign 
 universally on the Continent— the tide of emigration 
 sweeping off the flower of the manhood and bone 
 and sinew of the Continent ; strikes and union, dis- 
 union among all the worhmen in all " branches of 
 industries ; labour raising its suicidal and fratricidal 
 hand against capital ; glutted markets, occasioned 
 by excess of production; "men's hearts failing 
 them for very fear." It was while the thoughts of 
 all Europe were disquieted, and the Statesmen and 
 ruling authorities of the Great Powers looked 
 strangely on each other, that the Three Great 
 Potentates, who, for the time, were most concerned, 
 resolved to meet together and see if they could not 
 put an end to this state of doubt and uncertainty ,» of 
 suspicion and mistrust. Those who can read between 
 the lines know that the Three Emperors had no
 
 84 SUNSET OF THE 
 
 avriere pensccs, no selfish or unworthy motives. 
 Peace to ah three was and is a vital necessity, but, 
 as to the best means o± promoting that object there 
 could not but be varied and divers views and 
 opinions. The trials of the reckless adventurers 
 who had destroyed all that twenty years of peace 
 and prosperity had raised up in Paris, and the open 
 and boastful admissions of the Delegates and Chiefs 
 of the Commune had revealed the fact of a vast 
 organization of revolutionists and socialists, who 
 merged all patriotism and indeed any other sentiment 
 common to mankind in the one enterprize to which 
 they had sworn to devote themselves, body aud soul, 
 heart aud hand, viz. : the destruction and uprooting 
 of all society. The Czar of Kussia was only too 
 well aware that his vast Empii-e was honeycombed 
 with secret societies : he knew the terrible danger 
 that lay behind if a popular and taking cry was once 
 raised by the Sociahsts which would chime in with 
 the ultra-patriotic and Chauvinist and Pan-Sclavistic 
 ideas of the old Eussian or national party, 
 combined with the Omladines. All countries of 
 course have or ought to have enthusiastic ideas of 
 patriotism, and an ardent desire to see their country 
 increase in j)Ower and greatness ; but the danger 
 always lies in the impatience of the people to bide 
 their time, and their too willing attention to the 
 voices of wild and impulsive enthusiasts. The Czar 
 foresaw that if he did not get his brother Emperors
 
 NINETEENTH CENTURY. 85 
 
 to stand on the engine of State witli liim, to help 
 him to apply the brake, the passengers themselves 
 would force the Stoker to ]}ile on the fuel and sit on 
 the safety valve until a rate of speed was attained 
 that must end in some tremendous catastrophe. 
 The meeting was a wise and prudent step, conceived 
 in the best interests of all their people, as long as 
 Austrian Hungary, through Andrassy, would rely on 
 Bismark and Germany, and take no action without 
 their consent and approval, any attempt at aggressive 
 policy forced on the Czar by the old Eussian party, 
 insidiously led on by the secret societies who had 
 raised the cry of Pan- Slavism, would be neutralized 
 ])y the calm but determined attitude of that Power 
 which held the key of the Balkans. 
 
 Say where shall peace affrighted 
 
 A safe asylum find ? 
 Our souls with fears are blighted, 
 
 The nations all are blind ! 
 
 Uprose the genius of the Ehine* 
 
 Majestic from her throne, 
 " Why trouble ye my waters ? 
 
 My fountains leave alone. 
 
 * There has always been a tradition that a Spirit of the 
 House, the " White Lady of Potsdam," is always seen before 
 any great event.
 
 86 SUNSET OF THE 
 
 Eumouvs of wars are vexing 
 The spirit of my flood, 
 
 TLe calmness of my current 
 Is chafed like rushing blood. 
 
 Germania mourns her commerce, 
 
 Her pining Industry, 
 Untilled her fields, her hardy sous 
 
 Across th' Atlantic flee. 
 
 I'll get me to the Kaiser 
 I'll seek him in his halls, 
 
 I'll pray him rise and stretch forth 
 His hand to stop these brawls ; 
 
 These brawls and broils, unworthy 
 Of Christian nations free. 
 
 Got up by scheming placemen 
 And trickster's gramarye ! " 
 
 The Kaiser sat all lonely, 
 Untasted stood the wine, 
 
 " I feel me old and weary, 
 For peace and rest I pine."
 
 ni:nEteenth century. 87 
 
 The spirit of the waters 
 
 Stood, lo ! within the hall. 
 " Kaiser! in thought thou'st summoned me 
 
 I answer to thy call. 
 
 " Why call'st thou me ! why leaving 
 
 My cool sequestered cave, 
 Am I borne upward headlong 
 
 To breast the boisterous wave ? 
 
 " The sound of many waters, 
 
 Is thundering in mine ear. 
 Woe's me ! the sound of cannon 
 
 And tumbril's roll I hear." 
 
 " Sweet spirit ! give me comfort, 
 
 "WTiite lady tell me how 
 To still these jarring tumults, 
 
 Our heads they earthward bow." 
 
 " Pour oil upon my waters 
 
 Go seek thy brothers true, 
 No more of Avars and slaughters. 
 
 The skies shall soon be blue !
 
 88 SUNSET OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 " Spirit of strength, I'll go forth, 
 Thou beckonest with thy hand 
 
 I'll seek my brother Kaiser, 
 Far ill the cold North Land. 
 
 " He's lonely in his greatness, 
 He yearns for love and truth. 
 
 As age draws on, he misses 
 The friends of early youth. 
 
 " I'll seek my brother Kaiser, 
 
 By Danube's water blue, 
 I'll seek my younger brother, 
 
 The brave, the bold, the true. 
 
 " Sweet peace, we three will guard thee, 
 
 Unto each other true. 
 And he that dare offend thee, 
 
 Shall it right deeply rue."
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNEOBIN.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNEOBIN. 
 
 Dunrobin's halls are crowded, 
 With lairds and ladies gay, 
 
 Diplomatists and statesmen 
 A varied, mixed array. 
 
 Professors scientific, 
 
 And all who worship art ; 
 
 Writers, of brain prolific, 
 Each acts his varied part. 
 
 Why stands yon man so lonely, 
 His thoutrhts are far awav 
 
 Unmindful he of music's strains, 
 Southward they wandering stray. 
 
 With lofty brow, and massive jaw, 
 Clasped as with iron band. 
 
 Distinguished by his noble port 
 His looks of stern command.
 
 92 GLADSTONE AT DUNKOBIN. 
 
 He stands apart secluded, 
 And lonely from the rest, 
 
 Vast schemes of Eeformatiou, 
 Swell high within his breast, 
 
 His heart is in the Senate, 
 His heart it is not here, 
 
 He cares not for the Highlands, 
 He cares not for the deer. 
 
 He cares not for the dun deer, 
 He cares not for the roe, 
 
 His heart is in the Senate, 
 Wherever he may go ! 
 
 The salmon leaps unheeded. 
 Unheeded leaps the roe. 
 
 The State his service needed, 
 And southwards he must go. 
 
 On that pale brow is lowering, 
 A dark and heavy frown, 
 
 Genius has on him set her seal, 
 And marked him for her own.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNBOBIN. 93 
 
 Those earnest eyes are flashing, 
 
 From them his soul looks out, 
 Fierce indignation lashes, 
 
 AJi-foes he'll put to rout. 
 
 Foul jobs and foul abuses, 
 
 Old wrongs long unredressed, 
 Reforms long meditated, 
 
 Classes and trades oppressed. 
 
 " How long shall foul and noxious weeds 
 
 England's fair garden fiU. ? 
 How rank they grow, and choke the ground 
 
 That honest men should till ! 
 
 " The prunuing knife is wanted sore, 
 
 These rotten twigs to shear, 
 When axe and bill have done their work, 
 
 The sun shall enter here. 
 
 " Old England's oak shall bloom again, 
 Her boughs shall heavenwards soar. 
 
 Fresh light into her shades I'U let 
 Her wasted strength restore.
 
 94 GtAr)s•^o^fE at duMeobin. 
 
 " Lopx^ecl of lier useless branches, 
 From foul excrescence free, 
 
 Green with new sap and vigorous 
 Shall tower that stately tree ! " 
 
 Two years of headlong progress, 
 Two stirring years have flown, 
 
 And Samson Agonistes 
 
 Still sternly holds his own ! 
 
 He, sick at heart, and ill at ease, 
 
 A smile must ever wear ; 
 Each backer shy must try to please ; 
 
 Such smiling costs him dear. 
 
 His spirit high, and nature proud, 
 He now must rein and school, 
 
 And honied words the scorn enshroud 
 He feels for noisy fool. 
 
 A bold, unflinching front present 
 
 To friends and foes alike ; 
 With soothing syrup rows i^revent, 
 
 Yet still prepared to strike.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNROBIN. 95 
 
 One uight tlie world seemed hateful : 
 
 All hopeless seemed the strife ; 
 Fawcett and James, ungratefal, 
 
 A burdeu made his life. 
 
 " lutransigeutes," White-boys, 
 Home Kulers, Beds and Boughs, 
 
 They wrangled, with no slight noise, 
 They dealt each other cuffs. 
 
 He heard them, hut he heeded not, 
 
 He cared not for then* howls : 
 Then- sympathy he needed not, 
 
 He valued less their growls. 
 
 The tailors ten of Tooley Street, 
 
 And all that rabble rout, 
 With muttered curses loud and deep, 
 
 Demand why they're left out. 
 
 Full fain they'd gain an entrance ; 
 
 Full fain they'd ope the door, 
 But Bright 's broad back is guarding it, 
 
 And none shall tread that floor.
 
 96 GLADSTONE AT DUNROBIN. 
 
 Witli burly back against the door, 
 
 He kept intruders out, 
 He guarded well that sacred floor. 
 
 From vile and rabble rout ! 
 
 All honor to thee, glorious John ! 
 
 Thon'st served thy country well ! 
 What various ills thou'st saved her from ? 
 
 What evils, who can tell ? 
 
 He sought his study, weary, 
 Where classic tomes invite ; 
 
 The coal fire burned so cheery, 
 He sought a short respite. 
 
 From days of toil expended. 
 And nights ol little ease, 
 
 With every nerve distended. 
 The madding mob to please. 
 
 He sought his study, weary, 
 That study seemed a bore, 
 
 And yet how bright and cheery 
 That study seemed of yore.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNEOBIN. 97 
 
 " Shall scholar wise and sage severe 
 
 With swiiie and snobs consort ? 
 Who none my lettered lore revere, 
 
 Of base and sordid heart ? " 
 
 He flung him in his arm-chair, 
 
 Disgusted, sick at heart. 
 " Some comfort here, none over there, 
 
 I'll play no more the part." 
 
 He nodded at old Homer, 
 
 Whose bust on bracket stood : 
 " Methinks to read a chapter 
 
 Perchance would do me good." 
 
 o^ 
 
 He reached him down an IHad, 
 
 To pass away the time, 
 It soothed him like an opiad. 
 
 The slow and measured rhyme. 
 
 He slept, and in his slumber 
 He heard a heavenly strain ; 
 
 The Muses, nine in number. 
 Seek their lost child again. 
 
 H
 
 98 GLADSTONE AT DTJNROBIN. 
 
 " renegade ! return ; 
 
 We mourn thy absence long ; 
 Why thus thme early playmates spurn, 
 
 Thou child of classic song ? " 
 
 The shade of Homer rises ! 
 
 An old man crowned with bay, 
 His sightless eyes reproachful, 
 
 A mute rebuke convey. 
 
 " Thou'st served thy country long enough, 
 
 Deservest well repose ; 
 England has need of coarser stuft", 
 
 To meet her coming woes. 
 
 " Thine earnest mood is chaffd sore 
 
 At aught like jest or jeer, 
 'Tis fitted not for faction's roar, 
 
 Or party's selfish sneer ! " 
 
 He slept, but soon a change came o'er 
 
 The spirit of his dreams ; 
 With axe in hand he stood, and now 
 
 A woodman strong he seems.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNEOBIN. 99 
 
 'Tis merry, 'tis merry, in good greenwood, 
 
 The birds are gaily singing ; 
 On the beech's pride and the brown oak's side 
 
 Sir Wilham's axe is ringing. 
 
 No more the Pines, the grand old Pines, 
 
 The tall, the stately Pine, 
 Whose giant girths the Ivy bines 
 
 With loving clasp entwine. 
 
 Their prostrate trunks all shivered, 
 
 Torn down then- leafy screen ; 
 How sweet the sun once glimmered 
 
 Soft through their foliage green. 
 
 These were thy charms, sweet woodland, 
 
 But all thy charms have fled, 
 Thy pleasant glades have vanished, 
 
 And all thy charms are dead. 
 
 The Dryads shriek, "Whose ruthless hand 
 Hath wrought this cruel wrong ? 
 
 At whose audacious rash command 
 Fall down these giants strong ? "
 
 100 GLADSTONE AT DUNKOBIN. 
 
 " How dear these woodlands once to me, 
 The ring-dove coo'd and murmured there, 
 
 The squirrel leai^ed from tree to tree, 
 And all was peace and liberty. 
 
 No more shall squirrel shell his nuts, 
 
 And gambol full of glee ; 
 Woodpeckers green no more shall tap 
 
 At hollow beechen tree. 
 
 No more shall glossy creepers 
 
 And tender ivy -bine 
 Their rugged sides encircle, 
 
 Their gnarled girth entwine. 
 
 The oak that in summer was pleasant to hear. 
 And rustled its leaves at the fall of the year, 
 Is gone ! In its place no sapling is grown. 
 
 Pipmg breeze no more shall greet it. 
 
 Bowing branch no more shall meet it ; 
 
 'Tis gone ! and its site all unmarked and unknown.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNKOBIN. 101 
 
 Uprose the demon of tlie wilcl, 
 
 The genius of the hill ; 
 It was the faii-y elfin king, 
 
 His voice was weird and shrill. 
 
 " "Why sounds yon stroke on beech and oak, 
 
 Frighting my foliage green ? 
 And who goes there that doth so dare 
 
 Molest my leafy screen ? 
 
 " Euin seize thee, ruthl-ess wretch ! 
 
 Confusion on thv councils wait ! 
 May traitor turn each former friend, 
 
 Like thee, O base ingrate ! 
 
 •*' Kehama's curse, may 't cling to thee — 
 
 The curse of sleepless eyes ; 
 The curse that haunts the traitor's breast, 
 
 The worm that never dies." 
 
 He woke ! a chilly shiver 
 
 Came o'er him as he lay ; 
 His blood ran cold, like river, 
 
 All icy bound, or clay.
 
 102 GLADSTONE AT DUNKOBIN. 
 
 " Have I done wrong 7" he muttered ; 
 
 " Is it too late to mend ? " 
 An anguished prayer he uttered, 
 
 That all might be at end. 
 
 He woke, and turned uneasily, 
 The scene it sliifts once more ; 
 
 Th' Atlantic's freshening breezily 
 On emerald Erin's shore. 
 
 A bow-shot off a ruin stands, 
 
 An ivy-mantled porch ; 
 Belfry lies low among the sands, 
 
 Like quench'd funereal torch. 
 
 Who comes, with calm, sad, kindly face, 
 
 Eeproachful in his look ; 
 " This is thy work, this is no place, 
 
 Thou who thy vengeance took." 
 
 " Go home, go home," the pale man said, 
 
 " This is no place for thee ; 
 Art come to triumph o'er the dead, 
 
 Thy wicked work to see."
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNEOBIN. 103 
 
 " Tliou'st quencb'd five liuucTredliouseholJ fires, 
 See that tliiue own burn bright ; 
 
 Cold are the hearths of hundred homes, 
 Kobbed of their warmth and light." 
 
 Abashed he stood, when lo ! a priest, 
 
 In i^riestly cassock clad ; 
 " 'Twas done for thee, and thou at least 
 
 Say, if my work be bad ? " 
 
 "It was not done for us," he cried, 
 
 " But for thine own sweet will ; 
 It ministered unto thy pride, 
 
 And thou art Jesuit still." 
 
 " I love my brother, here's his home, 
 " "With me a warm welcome ; 
 Like brothers we'U together roam. 
 And muse o'er classic tome." 
 
 " In friendly true fidelity 
 
 We will our notes compare : 
 For he was raised at Trinity, 
 
 And I at Samt Omcr."* 
 
 * St. Omer used to be the great Classical College for 
 Catholic Priests.
 
 104 GLADSTONE AT DUNROBIN. 
 
 Ketm-n, then, son of Isis, 
 'Erst "Alma Mater's " pride, 
 
 Shake off thy only vices. 
 The sins of wounded pride. 
 
 " Then, woodman, spare this tree, 
 Touch not a single bough ; 
 
 In youth it sheltered me, 
 And I'll protect it now ! " 
 
 The church still left, woodman, 
 Relentless, pause awhile ; 
 
 Touch not her branches, rude man, 
 Heed not the tempter vile. 
 
 He woke, a prayer he uttered, 
 Straight vanished all his pride ; 
 
 " Perhaps I'm wrong," he muttered, 
 " The country shall decide." 
 
 Despair then on his soul took place. 
 
 When, lo ! a vision, fair ; 
 His Catherine's sweetly smiling face 
 I Shows radiant by his chair !
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUNROBIN. 105 
 
 " Be of good clieer, my lord," she said, 
 
 " For all regrets are vain ; 
 May blessings shower upon thy head, 
 
 And make thee young again ! " 
 
 " Thou'st need of rest, and change of scene, 
 
 A well-earned, long repose ; 
 Thou soon will wear a front serene, 
 
 Forgiving all thy foes." 
 
 " Sweet Catherine, we will take the train, 
 
 And put our heads for Maid ; 
 How Gladstone is ' himself again,' 
 
 The tale shall soon be told. 
 
 " And while the muses I invite, 
 < * O'er Schlieman's triumphs pore, 
 To poor and needy thou'lt attend, 
 I to my classic lore." 
 
 " Wliile thou, my love, art at my side, 
 
 My children at my knee. 
 How gladly will our galley glide 
 
 On Clwydd's* glassy sea." 
 
 ' The Clwydd and the Elwy form au Estuary near the 
 ancient City of Ehuddllau.
 
 lOG GLADSTONE AT DUNKOBIN. 
 
 " How fair thou art to-day," lie prest 
 Her Laud, "though always fan-, 
 
 HI dreams no more disturb my rest, 
 H thou art only there." 
 
 A knock ! and lo ! there enters there 
 A well-known, friendly face ; 
 
 He takes the proffered easy chair, 
 As 'twere his 'customed place. 
 
 "Envy not me," the statesman cried, 
 
 " For unto thee is left, 
 That which of all in life I prized. 
 
 Of that now I'm bereft. 
 
 " The blessed partner of my life, 
 
 With many virtues rife. 
 The healing balm of party strife, 
 
 A fond and faithful wife." 
 
 Then held he out a friendly hand. 
 
 Though tears streamed down his face ; 
 
 Behold, in great forgiveness grand. 
 These rivals twain embrace.
 
 GLADSTONE AT DUXEOBIN. 107 
 
 Then, arm-in-arm, adown tlie street, 
 
 Adown Pall Mall they strode ; 
 They held both, as 'twas only meet, 
 
 Sweet converse by the road. 
 
 Amazed, the House beheld that sight, 
 And wondering, rubbed their eyes ; 
 
 Their eyes could not believe aright, 
 'Twas far too great surprise. 
 
 How smiled the angels down from heaven, 
 
 To see the work was done ; 
 Pride thus perished, love thus conquered, 
 
 And avenged God's murdered son.
 
 THE GOOD SHIP '-' PROGRESS."
 
 THE GOOD SHIP "PROGEESS." 
 
 Two years of progress rapid, 
 Two years bad quickly flown ; 
 
 How flat, and stale, and vapid, 
 His triumphs now have grown. 
 
 A greedy, grasping crowd, 
 
 His ante-chamber fill ; 
 Demand, with clamour loud, 
 
 A share of treasury till. 
 
 Time-serving trimmers, all 
 Base worthippers of pelf ; 
 
 For place and power they brawl. 
 Their thoughts still all for self. 
 
 (PASSEXGEKS BEGIN TO GET SEA-SICK.) 
 
 Gladstone, prithee, pause awhile, 
 
 do but give us rest ; 
 For change, reform and progress, 
 
 We all have lost our zest.
 
 112 THE GOOD SHIP " PKOGEESS." 
 
 We've liad enotigli of action, 
 And enough of motion we ; 
 
 Kolled to starboard, rolled to larboard, 
 While the waves are surging free. 
 
 We are all very giddy, 
 
 Our legs and knees they shake. 
 
 Our hearts thej^ fail within us, 
 Our inmost souls do quake. 
 
 O save us father Dizzy, 
 
 And only take us home ; 
 On " terra firma " place us. 
 
 We will no longer roam. 
 
 Go call brave Ben, the bo'siin. 
 
 It is our only chance ; 
 If aught remain to save us. 
 
 He'll see it at a glance. 
 
 Then run and wake up Dizzy, 
 He must be tired of bed ; 
 
 He's never drunk or fizzy ; 
 Shout tiU you wake the dead.
 
 THE GOOD SHIP "PROGRESS." 113 
 
 Ben rubbed his eyes, and grumbled, 
 
 " What's up now," thereupon 
 Straight out of bed he tumbled, 
 
 And put his breeches on. 
 
 " Bout ship, lets beat to windward, 
 
 And weather, if we can ; 
 Lee shore and breakers roaring. 
 
 She ne'er such danger ran." 
 
 " Steady, steer small, and mind your helm, 
 
 My hearties, cheerily . 
 We'll right the vessel of the realm, 
 
 Though lab'ring wearily." 
 
 How jocund sounds his whistle shrill, 
 
 The silver bo'sun's call; 
 With cheerful face, so calm and still. 
 
 He cheers them one and all. 
 
 Start tacks and sheets, the halyards free. 
 
 The bellying mainsail stay, 
 Haul aft and home, the helm's a-lee, 
 
 Belay ! my boys, belay !
 
 114 THE GOOD SHIP *' PROGRESS." 
 
 She forges on, gains steerage way, 
 
 Her sails they gaily till ; 
 "D — — d near in irons," the ho'sun said, 
 
 " Not into port, though, still." 
 
 Sweethearts and wives we soon will toast. 
 
 Our grog we soon will sip ; 
 The Eads no more shall rule the roast, 
 
 Keep a stiff upper lip. 
 
 Our ancient institutions, 
 
 And our grand old British laws. 
 
 Our altar, throne, our hearth and home, 
 In such a righteous cause. 
 
 his must he a coward heart 
 
 That would not lift a hand. 
 For children, wives, for free born lives, 
 
 And such a native land.
 
 JOHN BRIGHT— SALMON FISHING 
 IN SUTHEELAND,
 
 JOHN BEIGHT— SALMON FISHING IN 
 SUTHERLAND. 
 
 Nothing can be a greater proof of the rapid strides 
 of civilization tlian the wonderful change which has 
 come over the more remote Highlands of Scotland. 
 Five-and-twenty years ago, as a boy at College, I 
 used to go up (by coach the whole way) to shoot 
 grouse and deer in Sutherlandshire. At that time 
 sheep farming had only just begun. The whole 
 country had been entirely in the hands of a few 
 poverty-stricken Celtic populations, who never did 
 a day's work from one year's end to the other, and 
 passed their time entirely in spearing " black " 
 salmon out of season, and full of spawn, thus 
 destroying millions of fish, while the fish so captured 
 was unwholesome, if not pernicious. When they 
 could not do this, they killed the poor hinds big 
 with young, because at that time they could be 
 easily approached, while the stags were sucking and 
 their flesh rank and nauseous. The then Duchess 
 of Sutherland tried all she could to induce these 
 people to emigrate. She offered them free passes
 
 118 JOHN BRIGHT 
 
 to grants of land in Canada. Having tried per- 
 suasion in vain, she was at length induced bj^ her 
 factors (or agents) to take stronger measures, and 
 evict them. They were most amply and generously 
 provided for, and now form a happy and contented 
 population in Canada, occupying several townships. 
 Their place was taken by shrewd, canny, Lowland 
 shepherds, who walked up from the Lammermuirs, 
 and were backed by the Scottish Joint Stock Banks. 
 These new tenants introduced the system of 
 " smearing," or, in other words, waterproofing 
 the Lowland whitefaced, Cheviot sheep. This pro- 
 cess enables the sheep to withstand the rigours of 
 that hyperborean climate. With the Lowlanders 
 and their sheep, came also canny Lowland habits 
 of industry and thrift ; and fi-om a howling wilder- 
 ness, where only the crow of the grouse and the 
 bellowing of the stag were heard, there soon re- 
 sounded the whiz of the threshing machine and the 
 hum of the steam engine. Listead of the eggs of 
 the grouse being trod on, the kipper and milter 
 being killed out of season, and the hind big with 
 young murdered, there is a smiling population of 
 shepherds and sheep -farmers, while the county 
 yields a fine rent-roll to its owner, and everybody 
 is benefited. Nevertheless, the Duchess, the late 
 Duke, and all his factors and agents, were met with 
 the most bitter hostility and violent abuse. The 
 l)oachers and illicit whiskey, or " sma' still"
 
 SALMON FISHING IN SUTHERLAND. 119 
 
 smugglers, met with champions in all the pro- 
 fessional agitators and demagogues of the day. 
 The Times itself sent a commissioner to inquire into 
 the alleged wrongs of the evicted tenants and 
 so-called martyrs. We believe the commissioner 
 went back satisfied that a great good had been 
 brought about ; but the early impressions of the 
 Times, no doubt, had been warped, by the reckless 
 assertions and bare allegations, unsupported by 
 proof, of professional agitators, and the hotheaded 
 zealots who are their tools. It was while occupying 
 one of these farms that the writer had frequent 
 opportunities of seeing Mr. Bright pursuing his 
 s^jort by pool or stream, and also noticed Mr. Glad- 
 stone rambling among the wild and romantic scenery 
 of the beautiful County of Sutherland. The Dowager 
 Duchess, as gifted in mind as she was charming in 
 face and feature, delighted to collect together at 
 Dunrobin Castle, all who were distinguished by 
 intellect and attainments, whether in politics, war, 
 science, art, or music. There might be seen Sir 
 Edwin Landseer, Sir Eoderick Murchison, Mrs. 
 Beecher Stowe, ("Uncle Tom's Cabin"); and others, 
 rubbing shoulders with Lord Lansdowne, Lord 
 Aberdeen, Mr. Sydney Herbert, and all the great 
 politicians and diplomatists of the age. WitLin 
 that charmed circle of born and hereditary aristo- 
 cracy were welcomed all comers who bore the 
 stamp of the aristocracy of genius and intellect.
 
 120 JOHN BRIGHT 
 
 No other card of admission was required. At 
 Dunrobin tlie great rising statesman, Gladstone, 
 first met John Bright, " the great tribune," and 
 representative of the " Manchester School." There 
 was formed the great coalition, which certainly 
 brought great changes. The future will reveal their 
 results. 
 
 Brightly, briskly flows the Brora,* 
 From her home mid mountain snows, 
 
 Past boulders huge and granite blocks. 
 That would her course oppose. 
 
 Shin and Oykel's* blended waters 
 
 Swift hurry to the sea. 
 Where " Suter's "t cliffs o'er arching. 
 
 Guard the shores of Cromarty. 
 
 Northwards all down the Naver,* 
 Where winds blow keen and hoar, 
 
 Where birch-trees gently waver, 
 Along the silver shore. 
 
 * Three of the most noted salmon streams in Sutherland. 
 Naver is Norwegian or Scandinavian for the Birch. These 
 coasts, as well as that of Caithness, were colonized by Scan- 
 dinavian Settlers. 
 
 t " Suters," and the Cobbler, two lofty cliffs at Bay of 
 Cromarty.
 
 SALMON FISHING IN SUTHERLAND. 121 
 
 A burly form in fisher's garb, 
 
 The gentle art pursues, 
 He trims his Kirby hooks * keen barb. 
 
 With gaudy pheasant's hues. 
 
 With hackle brown and peacock's harl 
 
 He decks the tinsel lure, 
 To tempt the monarch of the flood 
 
 From watery caves secure. 
 
 " Mag in her braws," the " butcher," f 
 
 A.11 clad in colours gay, 
 Of golden pheasant feathers, 
 
 Of partridge, grouse, and jay. 
 
 Glancing with fairy glamour, 
 
 They offer tempting lure. 
 Like maid whom gods enamour. 
 
 They'll tempt the prey, be sure. 
 
 He waves aloft a mighty wand. 
 While on the waters brown 
 His hne wide cii-cling round his head 
 He drops like thistle down ! 
 
 * The best form of Hook is " Kirby Bend." 
 t Two noted and deadly Salmon Flies.
 
 122 JOHN BRIGHT. 
 
 A tug — a pull — a gurgling swell, 
 
 Some monster from below, 
 He feels the cruel steel, he darts 
 
 Like arrow from the bow ! 
 
 Swift from the reel through rattling rings. 
 
 The line runs cheerily, 
 He feels the butt, his side upturns, 
 
 All spent and wearily. 
 
 Wind up thy line, unscrew thy rod, 
 Thy task is o'er, John Bright, 
 
 'Tis time for thee to homeward plod, 
 E'er fades the autumn light. 
 
 ^o^
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 SCHWERT-LIED— " THE SONG (3F 
 THE SWORD."
 
 SCHWEFiT-LIED— " THE SONG OF THE 
 S^YOED." 
 
 Translation from Kokneb. * 
 
 " Why gleams thy blade so blue '? " 
 " Dost ask, tliou warrior true, 
 Why gleams my blade so blue ? " 
 " I hear the battle from afar, 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 " I love to hear it swell — 
 I know the sound so well ! " 
 " Why rings thy blade within 
 Thy sheath with jar and din. 
 Thou fiercely clanging blade ? " 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 * Theoder Korner was a cavalry officer. He was the beau 
 ideal of a soldier-poet. He was the German Dibdin, aud our 
 sailors were not more familiar with their favourite " Tom 
 Bowling," and "Will Watch the Bold Smuggler," than is 
 every German soldier with " Morgen Koth " and " Mein
 
 126 SCHWERT-LIED 
 
 " Dost ask my sheath within 
 Why leap with such a din ? 
 I hear the cannon's voice — 
 This makes my heart rejoice. 
 War ! war ! my life's best choice — 
 This makes me leap within. 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 " No longer by my side, 
 Like coy and blushing bride, 
 Thy timid glances hide ; 
 Head pillowed on my breast. 
 Take now thy well-earned rest. 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 Scliwert." When German troops are on a long mareli and 
 begin to get leg-wearj', the colonel calls for the best singer 
 with the best voice, and he trolls forth one of their well-known 
 songs. As the men join in the chorus, fatigue, and hunger, 
 and hardship are all forgotten, and they sing their weariness 
 away. Nothing can be more solemn and impressive than to 
 hear a huge Cuirassier or stalwart Fusilier send forth from his 
 deep, broad chest, the guttural notes and swelling words of 
 one of those German war-hymns of Korners. As the whole 
 troop join in the chorus their thoughts are elevated, and the 
 beautiful words of the song go home to them, and all home 
 feelings and love of Fatherland swell within their breasts. 
 Then, all of a sudden, the note is changed, and another voice 
 joins in with some lilting love-song to a lively air ; then they
 
 "the song of the sword." 127 
 
 " My bride ! my iron bride ! 
 I hear the squadrons dash, 
 I hear the mitraille crash, 
 I see the sabres flash. 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 " I hear the bursting shells. 
 Eing out, ye marriage bells ! 
 Hark ! to the sound that tells 
 Of dying warriors' knells. 
 That gruesome revelry." 
 
 Hurrah ! 
 
 break into a quick step, or shake tlieir jaded horses iuto a 
 trot, and they realise the old English melody : — 
 
 " Jog on, jog on, the foot-path wny, 
 
 So merrily mount the stile a ' ; 
 Your merry heart goes a' the day. 
 
 Your sad one tires in a mile a'." 
 
 Korner's soldiers' songs, or rather battle-hymns, all breathe 
 forth a deep sense of religion. He possessed the true hero 
 soul of the old Berserker, inspired with love of war and song. 
 In his chivalrous and lofty spirit of devotion to his country he 
 resembled John Grahame of Claverhouse : the same chiselled 
 beauty of feature, such as ladies love to look upon ; their hopes 
 and aspirations were the same ; both expressed the dearest 
 wish of their hearts, " to die on some well-fought field, their 
 last word 'Forward!' their last breath a cheer." Their 
 wishes were granted ; both died shot through the heart in the 
 moment of victory !
 
 SOLDATEN-LIED—MOECtEN eoth. 
 
 K
 
 SOLDATEN-LIED— " MOEGEN EOTH.' 
 
 Translation from Koenee.* 
 
 Sunny Morn, with hues so red, 
 Soon I'll number 'mong the dead ; 
 When thy early beams arise, 
 I shall be beyond the skies. 
 
 Youth and Beauty, what are they ? 
 Creatures of a short-lived day ; 
 Cherry cheek and laughing eye, 
 Sweet they are — how soon they die. 
 
 What is Life ? 'tis but a span. 
 What is poor, vain, sinful man ? 
 Toil and trouble, trouble, toil, 
 Carking care, and sad turmoil. 
 
 * See note on p. 125.
 
 132 * SOLDATEX-LIED 
 
 Only yestern I was prancing 
 On my war-steed, pennons glancing; 
 Now shot through the heart, I die. 
 In the cool grave soon I lie. 
 
 Happen then whatever may, 
 
 Let it come in God's own way ; 
 
 I am ready, ready still, 
 
 Still prepared to do His will. 
 
 If I live, or if I die, 
 
 God is with me, ever nigh. 
 
 Scarcely tasted is life's cup, 
 'Ere we're called to give it up ; 
 Soon the round of pleasiu'e's game 
 Ends in sorrow, sin, and shame. 
 
 I shall need no pall or bier ; 
 O'er me, comrades, drop a tear ; 
 Give me, for a soldier meet, 
 Soldier's cloak for winding sheet. 
 
 ^o 
 
 To Him, if me God shall call, 
 Foremost fighting I will fall ; 
 With my face turned to the foe, 
 Upwards to the stars I'll go.
 
 " MOKGEN EOTH." 183 
 
 Carve no line and rear no stone, 
 
 Leave, oh ! leave me quite alone ; 
 
 Only say when I am gone, 
 
 Only to my parents tell, 
 
 " He hath clone his duty well : 
 
 True he was in heart and mind, 
 
 He leaves no bolder heart behind ; " 
 
 Earth ! how fade the hopes we borrow ! 
 E'en thy days are nought but sorrow ; 
 Fleeting is thy beauty's glow, 
 Vain deceit, and empty show.
 
 ANGPtY THOUGHTS.
 
 ANGRY THOUGHTS. 
 
 (translated FROJI the RUSSIAN OF LOMONOSOV.) 
 
 Angry tliouglits, when first they rise, 
 
 Flashing from the angry eyes, 
 Easy 'tis the hnk to sever, 
 
 Quick ! dissolve the chain for ever. 
 
 Angry words ! let them never 
 
 Take a form, assume a shape. 
 While 'tis time arise, e'er ever. 
 
 From thy lips a word escape ! 
 
 Angry looks ! a savage frown, 
 
 Scowling brow, and mouth drawn down, 
 Smiling cheek, and laughing eye 
 
 Vanish, friends affrighted fly ! 
 
 Angry looks ! what foul distortion, 
 Feature, form, and face disguise ! 
 
 Methinks this must he some abortion 
 Monstrous, foul inhumanize.
 
 138 ANGRY THOUGHTS. 
 
 Metliiuks some spirit from the sky 
 Has clone our fellow creature wrong, 
 
 Alike bis mien and bearing cbanged, 
 A prey to passions strong. 
 
 Angry deeds ! thus Cain 'gainst Abel, 
 Lifted once his impious hand, 
 
 And in fury, fratricidal, 
 
 Brother's blood bestrew the strand. 
 
 Angry thoughts ! 'ere once outspoken. 
 Into thin air soon dissolve. 
 
 Soon the thread of thought is broken, 
 Better feelings soon prevail. 
 
 Angry thoughts ! in fatal hour, 
 'Ere they take a spoken form, 
 
 Hence, thou dread and hideous power. 
 Tender Conscience take alarm ! 
 
 Angry thoughts ! 'tis time for Prayer, 
 To thy chamber quick repair ! 
 
 Haste thee ! quickly shut the door ! 
 Humbly kneel and press the floor !
 
 AXGEY THOUGHTS. 139 
 
 On thy knees in fear remain, 
 
 Rise not, faint not, struggle still, 
 
 Soon a gracious ear thou'lt gain, 
 Calmly wait awhile God's will ! 
 
 Hush ! for shadowy forms are near, 
 
 Soft they whisper in thine ear. 
 Blessings and rebukes bestow, 
 
 Spirit forms are here below. 
 
 See ! in streams of light descending, 
 
 Spirit forms are hovering near. 
 Ministering angels tending 
 
 All they loved and cared for here ! 
 
 Victory ! now the conflict's o'er 
 
 Quickly rise and ope the door, 
 Let thy thoughts now heavenward soar, 
 
 Tempter hence, and tempt no more !
 
 CHARGE OF THE 
 
 WHITE CUIRASSIERS AT 
 
 ORAVELOTTE.
 
 CHARGE OF THE WHITE CUIRASSIERS AT 
 GRAVELOTTE. 
 
 They called ns "Slow Teutons" they clubbed us 
 
 " Our Foes," 
 Professors and xjedants with spectacled nose, 
 To munch " sauer kraut," and to quaff sour wme. 
 And to smoke our big pipes on the banks of the 
 
 Rhine. 
 
 That slander lias melted like snow in the sun, 
 It dims not the tombs where our brothers repose ; 
 
 On many a mitrailleuse, mortar and gun. 
 Its denial is writ in the blood of our foes. 
 
 'Twas hopeless ! and yet in their soul's lofty daring, 
 As he waved his bright falchion aloft o'er his head, 
 
 Not one gave a thought that the mandate was bearing 
 Himself and his comrades to die midst the dead.
 
 144 CHARGE OF THE WHITE CUIKASSIEES. 
 
 'Twas desperate ! 'twas hopeless ! yet onwards they 
 bounded, 
 With the speed of the whirlwind, at word of com- 
 mand ; 
 With Kaiser's onlooldng, by legions sm-rounded, 
 They slacked not their onset, that Patriot Band ! 
 
 The meUc is over ! woe ! woe ! for the number 
 Of saddles all empty ! the muster-roll call ! 
 
 No " Bott sell " * shall rouse them again from their 
 slumber, 
 And nought is left for us save to weep at their fall ! 
 
 And the might of Napoleon down smote by the 
 
 sword, 
 Hath melted like snow at the glance of the Lord ; 
 Zouaves and Spahis, 'tis a race for dear life, 
 Which shall first quit the field and escape from the 
 
 strife. 
 
 The braggarts and bullies of Paris gay towai 
 Henceforward shall tremble and pale when we frown. 
 " Leave alone the stern Teuton — of him let's be shy ; 
 Let's mind our own business ! " henceforward the cry. 
 
 * " Bott Sell " is a bugle call, the same as our sounding 
 " Boot and Saddle."
 
 IRISH SOLDIERS.
 
 lEISH SOLDIEKS. 
 
 NoTHixG can ])e more ill advised than ever interfering 
 with the Irish when the whiskey is in them. They 
 make the best soldiers in the world, but the iron 
 band of discipline needs at certain times and seasons 
 the relaxation coveted by our human nature. 
 
 " Ne que semper arcun tendit Apollo." 
 At these times, when tbey are on the war path, 
 popularly known here as "on the spree," or, as they 
 call it in Austraha, " on the burst," the great thing 
 is for the sergeants and non-commissioned officers to 
 keep carefully away from them ; their own sweethearts 
 and lasses and people will manage them and soothe 
 them with a " Take it aisy now, Pat, good luck to you, 
 take it fair and aisy," and if their uproariousness 
 and violence passes all bounds, they will give them a 
 gentle but ceremonious hiding, and tumble them on 
 to a bed', where they will soon sleep off the liquor, 
 and, without any harm being done, they will return 
 to their colors and their duty better soldiers than 
 ever, and remain so until the time arrives in its 
 proper season when " a bust" is due. The fact is, 
 an Irishman is such a splendid specimen of 
 humanity that his high spirits and physical health 
 require a safety valve to let off the superfluous 
 steam. To use his own rich doric, he "gets blue
 
 148 lEISH SOLDIERS. 
 
 moulded for want of a bating." The rig] it hand of 
 
 my company in the S M was an Irish 
 
 navvy, Matthew Finnigan. He was a County 
 Tipperary man, and with his brother Jack had 
 passed a sort of college finishing as a navvy in the 
 black comitry. If managed, he was a sj^lendid 
 soldier, standing some six feet five inches. He was 
 always obedient and docile, till one unfortunate 
 
 Saturday (market day at S y) he brought a 
 
 candidate for the line into which I was then 
 enlisting recruits at the rate of £4 per man. I of 
 course ought to have invested it in the savings' 
 bank in his name, and I knew I was doing wrong at 
 tlie time, but I feared lest the man should think I 
 was committing a breach of faith and not keeping 
 my word, and as the money was his own to do what 
 he liked with, I politely handed it over. The result 
 may be guessed ; the dram shops soon made him 
 what I dare say he would call " quite comfortable," 
 liut it was very uncomfortable for everybody else, 
 as his notion of comfort was to clear the town, 
 which he speedily did ; aiad as the stupid sergeants 
 would not leave him alone, he finished by getting 
 a blow from the steel end of a pair of handcuffs, 
 which a plucky but too zealous sergeant gave him 
 on the forehead. He was carried ofi' to the infir- 
 mary, where, after two days and nights of insensi- 
 l)ility he woke up, stared round him, simply uttering 
 the words, " Thank God I am an Irishman."
 
 ON BAEMAIDS.
 
 ON BAEMAIDS. 
 
 No class is more misjudge;! and misinterpreted 
 than the "neat handed Phillis " who serves out 
 to her customers the good creatures of this Hfe. 
 Many misjudge her winning ways and captivating 
 charms. The poor lasses come up from the country 
 having heard from their friends and neighbours 
 how their schoolfellow, Polly Hopkins, had married 
 a gentleman, and how Susy Simpson had become 
 the wife of the landlord of the hotel where she was 
 the barmaid. All honour be to the landlord who 
 chose a wife from among those who had served him 
 well and faithfully — he chose wisely. Let every 
 one honour him and take their hats off to him, 
 and let no one dare to presume to say, "He 
 has lowered himself — he married his barmaid." He 
 has done nothing of the sort. In raising her to the 
 level of his own position, he has raised both ! He 
 has set a good example, and she is a shining beacon 
 to other girls of the same class, that though their 
 duties may be hard, and onerous, and monotonous, 
 with " long days of lengthening labour and nights
 
 152 ON BARMAIDS. 
 
 of little ease," strict attention to their duties, and 
 devotion to their emx^loyer's interests always meet 
 "with their deserved reward, and well ! perhaps, he 
 was a widower : and x^erhaps the wife he had lost 
 had been the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, while 
 living she had watched over the friendless, innocent 
 country girl — had seen that she never went out 
 alone, and taken care that she was never out of safe 
 hands ; in fact, had been a true and honest sheep- 
 dog, and kept the wolves off from the stray lamb. 
 The widower is doing right, and just what his lost 
 wife would have wished him to do in marrying the 
 girl she so carefully brought up. She will look 
 after his house and property when he ventures out 
 on a holiday.
 
 IRISH PEOPLE.
 
 IRISH PEOPLE. 
 
 To tlie poet's eye the faces of his fellow creatures 
 all bear the stamp and impress of that first beau- 
 tiful nature which the Great Being who created us 
 set upon his creatures ; on some, vice and crime and 
 evil habits have distorted the fair lineaments, but it 
 is only a temporary and chronic distortion — it will 
 fade away and leave them beautiful and calm in 
 death. All the anguish and the pain and sorrow is 
 smoothed away from the calm cold face when death 
 — not the terrible avenging angel — but the sweet 
 reliever, has ironed out the wrinkles. As Longfellow 
 
 smgs- 
 
 " Safe from temptation, safe from sins' pollution, 
 They live whom we call dead." 
 
 The jolly, laughing Irish flower girls who line the 
 railings of the Duke of Wellington's Statue may 
 seem to some a noisy, boisterous crew, throwing their 
 chaff about and exchanging rough jokes with the jolly 
 omnibus cads and cab drivers. In reality they are 
 full of their wild Irish fun, good and loving to each 
 other, perfectly happy and contented, knowing that
 
 156 IKISH PEOPLE. 
 
 if Rxiy of tliem are taken ill they will be nursed and 
 tended and carefully provided for. Tliey generally 
 ask fourpence or sixpence for a good flower for the 
 button-hole ; I always tender a penny, and accost 
 them in their native Irish, " Ma cuishla machree, 
 don't be too hard on a poor man." They always 
 pass the word " Give the poor Sassenach jintleman 
 a penny flower." So with the jolly omnibus drivers 
 and cads ; when a stoppage takes place, an outsider 
 would think they were all angry, and that the rough 
 language was the outburst of rage and ill humour ; 
 nothing of the sort, it is all done on purpose to rest 
 their horses and let them catch their wind. The 
 oaths mean nothing, as Uncle Toby said, " Our 
 army swore terribly in Flanders." When a cabby 
 is taken ill, a "benefit " is arranged at some special 
 house of call of the fraternity, and every one con- 
 tributes his quota in singing comic songs, or pro- 
 posmg some sentiment ; a hat is then handed round 
 and subscriptions pour in.
 
 THE POET.
 
 THE POET. 
 
 The poet Longfellow has beautifully said — 
 
 " what a glory dotli this world put on, 
 To such as go forth with a quiet mind, 
 And look on duties well performed, 
 And days well spent." 
 
 This is indeed true ; the heaven born Efflatus blows 
 not save on those who lead a pure and good life. 
 There must be no inner consciousness of guilt or 
 sinful thought, no dimming of the light that shines 
 upon the soul, no backsliding or hankering after the 
 follies and frivolities, ambitions and vain desires of 
 our fallen nature, no straying aside into the paths 
 of pleasure, none of the shades that overhang those 
 paths, no groping in the dismal darkness and rayless 
 night that soon descends on those murky caves to 
 which those paths lead. Art is a jealous mistress, 
 she soon deserts her worshipper if he does not 
 devote himself to her alone. The true artist finds 
 pleasure in the simplest detail, and even the merest 
 mechanical portion of his work, even the stretching 
 the canvas on the frame, and the stippling and 
 filling-in, are sweet and pleasant occupations. So
 
 160 THE POET. 
 
 with the poet, to him the mastering of the ditfereut 
 languages in which poets of other nations sing is a 
 pleasure and no lahor. His clear sense of hearing 
 soon detects the cousinly ring that can be traced 
 through all and every language. He will see at 
 once that the " leute " of the Teutons is the 
 " lioudi " of the Russians and Poles, that the braid 
 Scots' "fremmit folk" is only the "fremde folk " of 
 the Germans, that the " penge and siller"' of the 
 Norwegians and Swedes is the " siller and penny "' 
 of the Aberdonians, that the karohyi and kardyine 
 (king and queen) of the Hungarians is the Carolus 
 and Carolina of the Frankish Latins, and that the 
 German Karl is the same merging into Charles and 
 Siarl iu Celtic. Thus the poet finds pleasure in 
 everything. What to others seem vulgar and 
 commonplace, to him is full of beauty and goodness. 
 When he walks into the city and strays amid murky, 
 mammon-gathering slums, where greedy men most 
 love to congregate, where thieves do break in and 
 steal, he thinks of " The Merchant of A'enice," and 
 his argosies and carauls long due.
 
 BLOOMING GIRLHOOD AND SAD 
 SPINSTERHOOD. 
 
 M
 
 BLOOMING GIRLHOOD AND SAD 
 SPINSTERHOOD. 
 
 One of the saddest sights to me is the enormous 
 number of girls destined to old-maidship. It ought 
 not to be so, and a kind Providence never meant it 
 to be so, but our unnatural and artificial state of 
 existence has brought this highly undesirable result 
 about. While the prairies of the Mighty West, 
 interminable, illimitable, exhaustless, are beckoning 
 the down trodden millions of Europe across the 
 Atlantic ; while the uplands of South Africa, swarm- 
 ing with game, perfect in climate and temperature, 
 offer every possible inducement to the young to start 
 on the road of a self-reliant, hard working life, 
 trusting in Providence for their future, our timid 
 youths fear to take the first plunge, and stand 
 shivering on the brink. How sad it is to see the 
 countless, fine young fellows lounging away their 
 time and ruining their health at the bars of restau- 
 rants and wine shops, or consorting with blacklegs, 
 gamblers, touts, and ring-men of petty race courses, 
 where leather plating is carried on by the rogues
 
 164 BLOOMING GIRLHOOD 
 
 and money lenders, who own the weedy screws that 
 citu scarcely carry the feather weight that bestrides 
 for half-a-mile, and yet these young fellows see some 
 strange glamour-like charm in these unworthy and 
 degrading pursuits. You cannot touch pitch without 
 being defiled ! and too soon the company they keep 
 and the pursuits they follow tell their tale, confirm 
 them in evil habits, demoralize and corrupt their 
 whole nature, and instead of fulfilling their mission 
 here on earth and obeying God's command, "Go 
 forth and multiply! " they slowly descend into the 
 downward road until they reach the drunkard's 
 'grave. Alas ! how difi'erent had they been under a 
 a stern course of discipline from seventeen to 
 eighteen, imder the colors, where they would have 
 learnt habits of order, method, sobriety, and good 
 conduct ; another year in a merchant's counting 
 house, or a lawyer's desk, in a barrister's chambers, 
 or an engineer or manufacturing workroom, would 
 have taught them the dignity of labour and the 
 happiness that steady industry and useful occupation 
 ever bring. Thus qualified for this work-a-day 
 Avorld, they might marry the first sweet girl that 
 smiles upon them. Let them not wait for money, 
 position, family, or any other selfish consideration, 
 for " hope deferred maketh the heart sick," and long 
 engagements frequently sap the health and lay the 
 seeds of delicacy in fair and tender maiden. England 
 ought to be like Holland, where it is a rare and
 
 A\D SAD SPIXSTEKHOOD. 165 
 
 exceptional case to find a family of which at least one 
 of its members is not in far off Java, Sumatra, or 
 Celebes, or, as they are styled, the Dutch East Indies, 
 making or having made a comfortable independence. 
 But no ! nothing will stir these idlers and street 
 loungers, or wake up their energy ; and yet 'tis 
 pity, too. Most of the young men were originally 
 endowed with the choicest gifts of Providence : 
 health, strength, spirit, education, kind and loving 
 parents. 'Tis not getting into the right groove in 
 early life that does it. One year's idleness lays the 
 axe at the root of industrious habits, and these once 
 lost or unacquired, will not be recalled or obtained 
 easily. 
 
 " Where once such fairies dance, no grass will ever grow." 
 No less sad is it for the poor girls ; the blooming 
 lass, that laughed upon Tom with her bonnie black 
 eye, waits on, month after month and year after 
 year, dragging their slow length along. Soon she 
 loses her health and spirits, her first charming 
 freshness of color and brightness of eye. Tom gets 
 from bad to worse, and is finally forbid the house. 
 How different, had Tom gone into the ranks for a 
 year when he left school, made a friend and confidant 
 of his ofi&cer, who would have befriended and made 
 him marry the girl at once, if she was honest and 
 good, and seen him and her safe on board a clipper 
 for Quebec, or Melbourne, or Sydney, or Adehade, 
 pv Brisbane. Ah me ! what a different tale would
 
 166 BLOOMING GIKLHOOD 
 
 both then have had to tell — hard, uuceasmg work, 
 galloping stock horses across the bush, overlauding 
 a mob of cattle, clipping wool for dear life, or 
 holding the plough stilts and guiding the bullock 
 team between the stumps, and home to the rough 
 shanty or shingle-roofed hut, where the bonnie wife 
 and sweet bairns await him with looks and words 
 of love. Turn we to a still sadder scene. What 
 means those poor, painted, draggled creatures, that 
 throng our streets ? They have been betrayed, 
 deceived and abandoned; their bursting heart has 
 lost its faith in all that is good. Her lover has 
 deserted her ; " she gave him all she could," and 
 now — 
 
 " When lovely woman stoops to folly, 
 And finds, too late, men can betray, 
 No charm can soothe her melancholy, 
 No art can wash her guilt away. 
 
 The only art she can discover, 
 
 To hide her guilt from every eye, 
 To give repentance to her lover, 
 
 And wring his bosom — is to die ! 
 
 And yet these poor creatures are not altogether 
 evil. I have seen them in the police courts — when 
 " run in " for a general skirmish and scratching of 
 faces oi the sisterhood — when locked up for the 
 night, kissing each other, and promising to bring a 
 shawl and cloak and cup of tea in the morning. 
 These poor things should never be rudely or roughly 
 spoken to ; their lot is indeed sad ; short and wild
 
 AND SAD SPINSTERHOOD. 1G7 
 
 and reckless in their career, the demon drink, and 
 the sense of sliame ever returning to the most 
 hardened, soon bring them to the pauper's grave. 
 Better indeed had it been for the man who has 
 betrayed them, "that he had hanged a millstone 
 round about his neck."
 
 LINES ON A REFORMATORY.
 
 LINES ON A KEFORMATOEY. 
 
 Flaunting by the flaring gaslight, 
 Shrieking wildly words of sin ; 
 
 Eyes with scorn and phrenzy wild bright, 
 Lips all parched with fiery gin. 
 
 Wearied, worn, she sighs for slumber, 
 
 Sinks at last to fitful sleep, 
 Grieving o'er her care and lumber ; 
 
 Unseen angels watches keep. 
 
 Wasted soon with sore disease. 
 Lost her once alluring smile ; 
 
 Vain are now her arts to please. 
 Vain each often practised wile. 
 
 Stricken down with fever's stroke, 
 
 Soon her thoughts turn back to home, 
 
 Then within her conscience woke, 
 " Hence I must for aye to roam."
 
 172 LINES ON A EEFORMATORY. 
 
 In her dreams her mother si^oke, 
 " Daughter ! rise, and don thy cloak ; 
 ' Homeward wend thy weary way, 
 
 Tarry not, nor longer stay ! " 
 
 Yonder cottage, thatched in sight. 
 Through the window beams a light ; 
 Softly o'er the gravel treads, 
 'Mid the trim kept garden beds. 
 
 Through the lattice eager peeps, 
 There her mother vigils keeps ; 
 Mother — yes, unseen the while — 
 Yes, 'tis she, the old sweet smile. 
 
 And there she sees the old arm chair, 
 Her sorrowing mother still sits there ; 
 She smiled upon her children there, 
 And breathed forth many a heartfelt prayer. 
 
 Upon the old deal table, 
 
 A book before her lay ; 
 To read no more she's able. 
 
 But there the book must stay.
 
 LINES ON A REFORMATORY. 173 
 
 That book whose sacred page 
 
 Was once so careful conned ; 
 Her eyes now dim with age, 
 
 But of the book she's fond. 
 
 A mark one page doth note, 
 
 Let not the scoffer spmrn, 
 A simple tale there wrote, 
 
 " The Prodigal's Eeturn." 
 
 Long the weary wanderer stood, 
 Veiled her face in down drawn hood, 
 Lifts the latch and ope's the door, 
 Fainting sinks upon the floor. 
 
 " Mary ! is it you, dear ? 
 
 Safe, safe at home ! 
 Come to my arms, my daughter, 
 
 Thou wilt no longer roam." 
 
 ^o 
 
 " 0, mother ! 'tis not meet 
 For such as me to rise, 
 
 To foreign lands my feet 
 
 Must turn, and foreign skies."
 
 174; LINES ON A REFORMATORY. 
 
 " Eise, daughter, rise, in slumber 
 A sleep of death thou'st slej^t, 
 • But all the while a uuraber 
 Of angels round thee kept 
 
 " A wakeful ward and watching, 
 And while my daughter slept. 
 
 By them, with love unmatching, 
 Daughter ! thy place was kept. 
 
 " I only know my daughter's safe, 
 Keturned to me at last, 
 
 Her sins and sorrows over, 
 Her troubles all are past."
 
 TICHBOENE.
 
 TICHBOENE. 
 
 Among tlie "causes celebres " wliicli liave puzzled 
 the lawyers, nothing for many years has so exercised 
 the disputatious powers of the public mmd as the 
 Tichborue Trial. It has been not a nine days' 
 wonder, but a riddle to be read and an enigma to be 
 solved ever since it was first broached in 1870. No 
 one has ever yet known the real rights of the case, 
 while the true key to it all lay right under our 
 noses, so to speak. Many reputations have been 
 shattered, and an absurd amount of animus and 
 feeling thrown into it which was quite uncalled for. 
 Dr. Kenealy has had somewhat hard measure dealt 
 out to him, but he unquestionably labored under an 
 honest conceit that his client was the real man. So 
 did Mr. Whalley, also a thoroughly honest man ; so 
 did Guildford Onslow. Had the good Doctor been 
 as much among horses and horse dealers as the 
 writer, he would have held the key and read between 
 the lines, and all that seemed so puzzling would 
 have been clear as the day. If he wants to be 
 enlightened, let him read a report of the celebrated 
 
 N
 
 178 TICHBORNE. 
 
 horse case, tried at Shrewsbury, Lent Assizes, in 
 March, 18G8, the case of Cox v. Greenwood, tried 
 before the Lord Chief Baron Kelly and Mr. Justice 
 Willes. In that case, Cox, a horse dealer, sued an 
 iron master of Wolverhampton, named Greenwood, 
 for damages for false imprisonment. It appeared 
 Mr. Greenwood had lost a five year old mare out of 
 his field. The police arrested a man who was found 
 selling an animal so like the last animal in question, 
 that Greenwood and his grooms swore to it as being 
 the identical animal. At the trial some seventy 
 witnesses all swore stoutly that it was the mare, some 
 seventy on the opi^osite side also swore equally 
 stoutly that it was not. The trial lasted two days, 
 and every one, including judges, jury, and counsel, 
 were all persuaded that frightful perjury had been 
 committed ; on the contrary, in reality, every one 
 spoke the truth. The facts are very simple, and the 
 key to it was very simple. It is an old trick among 
 Irish horse dealers, and is also practised among the 
 Affghan and Persian dealers. A perfect brood mare, 
 like a perfect-bred short-horn cow, will throw to the 
 same horse, year after year, foals so exactly like to 
 and resembling each other, that none but a practised 
 eye can tell the difference. The dealer and breeder 
 who had sold the live year old mare to Greenwood 
 had railed over her own sister, a year younger, and 
 the mare found by the i^olice was a year younger ; 
 the real animal, the five year old, was smuggled
 
 TICHBOEXE. 179 
 
 back to Ireland ; thus every body was right, and 
 yet every body was wrong. So in the Tichborne 
 case. The sham, big fellow, the "distressed 
 nobleman " at Dartmoor, was a bye-blow of old 
 Tichborne, and h id got to know all the family 
 history. The good Doctor will see this when he 
 calmly runs this over and analyses all the facts of 
 the case. He will then, like the good fellow he is at 
 bottom, apologize to the Chief Justice, one of the 
 kindliest and most noble minded gentlemen that 
 ever adorned the bench, and that gentleman will 
 show the good Doctor that he had no option or 
 alternative save to rebuke him when he impugned 
 the integrity of the bench, and if the good Doctor 
 had been his own brotlier, no other course was open 
 to him. Tlie Doctor should have thrown up his 
 brief after the two first days of the defence, and 
 when Luie came over, with his sackful of lies, then 
 the Doctor might have retired gracefully, and with 
 credit to himself. There is, however, a piece of 
 evidence which was never brought forward, but 
 which is quite conclusive to my mind as to the gross 
 imposture practised. A friend of mine happened to 
 stroll into the hotel where the impostor was sitting 
 smoking ; my friend has a peculiar voice, which 
 subsides into a shrill treble, not to say a squeak, 
 when excited or laughing ; now he has or had a big 
 brother who had formerly been in the Carabineers, 
 but he has a big, strong voice, not at all peculiar.
 
 ISO TICHBORNE. 
 
 but after my friend left the room, the defendant 
 asked the waiter "If that gentleman who had just 
 
 gone out was not ?" adding, " I remember 
 
 him by his voice." Now it was quite evident he 
 
 had learnt by the army Hst that had been in 
 
 the Carabineers, but he mistook the one brother for 
 the other, and he thought it would be good evidence 
 to say he remembered him by his voice. Voila tout. 
 Thus we may say in the words of the poet — 
 
 " Who the dickens Tich could be 
 Half puzzled mauy a learned elf. 
 Till lo ! they learned — wondrous fact — 
 That Tich was second self! " 
 
 The judges are met — a terrible show, 
 The claimant and friends are all ranged in a roAv : 
 The big wigs are baffled, and fierce grows the fight, 
 But justice shall triumph, and wrong sha'nt be 
 right. 
 
 ■^o* 
 
 Sure purjury's rife, but murder will out, 
 
 Out of lies will come truth, though the swearing is 
 
 stout ; 
 And th' imposter is hurried straight off to Dartmoor, 
 Whence 'tis hoped he will i^uzzle the world never 
 
 more.
 
 ON EARLY MABRIAGES.
 
 ON EAELY MAEKIAGES. 
 
 " Non cuivis coutingit adire, 
 Viucula conjugii felicis." 
 
 To few indeed falls the liappy lot of being happily 
 united in early youth to their first love. To realise 
 such a blessing, when the affections are fresh and 
 free, and the milk of love and kindness unsoured 
 by the gall of bitterness and disappointment, is a 
 spectacle too joyous and full of beauty to be often seen 
 on this earthly stage. AVere it more common, as it 
 was no doubt meant to be, then indeed this world 
 would be a veritable Garden of Eden. Such 
 spectacles, hovs^ever, are now and then to be seen; 
 very beautiful indeed are they to the spectators 
 whose hearts are big enough to enjoy the sight of 
 human happiness. I have myself had the pleasure 
 and privilege of knowing some such. Several of 
 my college friends, noted for their feats of strength 
 and reckless daring, after taking their degree, were 
 not " rusticated," but voluntarily went to rusticate, 
 there they met that blooming country girl that poets 
 love to sing of, and whom artists love to limn. One
 
 lS-1 
 
 ON EAP.LY MAKRIAGES. 
 
 " kissed the gamekeei^er's daughter," another loved 
 "the miller's maid." In each case the voice of 
 nature cried aloud, and with a voice so shrill that 
 he could not choose hut hear. But in each case the bold 
 lover showed himself a gentleman and an honest 
 man ; he took the. wilding hedge rose to his bosom, 
 had it cared for, cultivated and tended, that is, he 
 educated and with culture and accomplishments 
 prepared his timid gentle wife for the position he 
 had raised her to. Verily, virtue hath its reward, 
 even in this life, though not always immediately or 
 directly. In each and every case lovely children, 
 running over with health and strength, blessed the 
 honest gentleman's home. With the " lowly lady " 
 hard work became a necessity, as the parents were 
 at first obliged to be kept in the dark, and they 
 naturally would only find the supplies for their son, 
 on the scanty scale of a bachelor's needs. Time is 
 the reconciler as well as the avenger. The old 
 people at lejigth bewailed their son's virginity, and 
 went so far as to tell him that sooner than die with- 
 out seeing him mated with someone, they would be 
 only too glad if he would marry some of the ripe- 
 lipped, black-eyed farmer's daughters. Then the 
 time had come — in one case an old college friend, 
 in anotber the publisher for whose magazine the 
 young benedict wrote, gently and judiciously broke 
 the news ; the beautiful, blooming children did the 
 rest ; and when the proud old parents and haughty
 
 ox EARLY MARRIAGES. 185 
 
 relatives saw tlie gentle, modest mother, a^id saw 
 that on her nature had set her seal — ladij, they also 
 took her to their arms, saying, " Thou art one of 
 us." Nevertheless, it is not always so. Fir st irn- 
 pressions and love at sight are but soft stuff and 
 sliding sand out of which to build the edifice of a 
 life of happiness. That house must have its 
 foundations laid on the primaeval rock of goodness 
 and purity, they will not deceive, and every maiden 
 gifted with these will wear a face that, though plain 
 and homely to the outer world in its expression, is 
 beautiful to those who are also pure and good. It 
 is best, perhaps, to keep away from the rustling 
 white muslin, and the bright eyes and laughing 
 looks, for they are apt to make wild work with the 
 plodding brain, and lead him sore astray. We can 
 but humbly pray with old Chaucer — 
 
 " Christ, keep these birdies bright from harm."
 
 ON SCHEMING AND MEDDLING 
 WOMEN.
 
 ox SCHEMING AND MEDDLING WOMEN. 
 
 It is au old sayiug aud trite truism, that women 
 are at the bottom of all mischief. This is, however, 
 not true of kind, good, gentle women. Nowhere 
 are the other sort more intensely mischievous than 
 in regard to appointments in the army and church - 
 militant. Nothing is more beautiful and adorning 
 to a kind and gentle Christian minister than the 
 crown of his household — a modest, matronly partner 
 in aU his cares aud toils. She only leaves her 
 nursery and household duties to tend the sick, visit 
 the poor, make broth for the weak and hungry, aud 
 cut out flannel petticoats for the old women. 
 Nothing on the other hand is more offensive, 
 irritating, or ridiculous than a she-parson, a she- 
 dean, or a she-archdeacon. Fortunately they are 
 " rara^ aves," but like pigs, when they try to fly, they 
 make very odd birds. Anthony Trollope, in one of 
 his inimitable novels, has depicted with great gusto 
 and graphic power a clerical , female of this genus. 
 They are generally vulgar and self-asserting in style 
 and manner, and if one took the trouble of tracing 
 back their antecedents, they would be found to have
 
 190 ON SCHEMING AND MEDDLING WOMEN. 
 
 been originally a person (not a young person) who 
 had, after much angling after piscatorial prey in the 
 cathedral cities, succeeded in landing some honest 
 but weak minded old college don, who was induced, 
 much against his will, to forswear celibacy. Alas 
 poor benedict ! His irrepressible partner is never at 
 rest until she has bothered the poor man into what 
 she calls "putting forward his claims." No back 
 stairs are too steep for her, no stone too heavy to 
 turn. Unfortunately ministers and dispensers of 
 patronage are courteous and good uatured. It is a 
 mistake. The nearest boot to throw at her head 
 would be much more germane to the matter. No one 
 save a badgered minister can realise the unblushing 
 effrontery and impudent persibtance of this sort of 
 cut and come again old campaigner. Like the 
 unjust judge, he at length gives in, because "she 
 importuneth me." The same specimen used to be 
 found haunting the Horse Guards. Sir Walter 
 Scott, in " Waverley," has hit off a sketch of the she- 
 dragoon. The blunt, brave old soldiers, who used to 
 sit at the Horse Guards, dreaded her as much as 
 poor Captain Cuttle did the awful Mrs. McStinger, 
 or Bob Sawyer did his fearful landlady, Mrs. Eaddles. 
 Almost all the bad appointments made have been 
 made under this pressure, sorely against the wills 
 and better judgment of the honest old generals, who 
 like to reward merit, and have always a soldier's eye 
 for the stuff that make good and brave soldiers.
 
 ox SCHEMING AND MEDDLING WOMEN. 191 
 
 Here again their courteous, chivalrous pohteness to 
 a woman is quite thrown away. When this sort of 
 fox has once taken to haunt their poultry yard, they 
 ought to loose some rough old mastiff, say a Scotch 
 drum major or piper, with orders to him to hegin to 
 skerl a pibroch directly the vixen begins to throw 
 her tongue. If he is not to the fore, let her mill- 
 clapper wag on, and let the prudent old soldier 
 observe a silver silence. As the cynical old trainer 
 said, " Women is rum stock, they can't bear a walk 
 over." I say " used to was," for the present com- 
 mander-in-chief, God bless him, is the soldier's 
 friend, and his selections are proofs of a diagnostic 
 and penetrating eye. Sir Colin Campbell, Lord 
 Napier of Magdala, and Sir Garnet Wolseley are 
 the sort of men he picks out, and they do him 
 credit. He knows that soldiers are like hounds, 
 they will follow the best huntsmen, and if they find 
 he does not know his business, they will soon drop 
 their tails and lose their dash.
 
 DREAM AND DEATH OE 
 
 THE LATE 
 
 SAMUEL WILBERFORCE, BISHOP 
 
 OF WINCHESTER.
 
 DEEAM AND DEATH OP 
 
 THE LATE 
 
 SAMUEL WILBERFOECE, BISHOP OF 
 
 WINCHESTEE 
 
 (translated from the see of oxon). 
 
 Rock-foimded fortress, rest tliou still, 
 Calm and serene upon thy hill. 
 In perfect trust await God's will, 
 Thy sons keep watch and ward ! 
 
 And shall they pull down Church and State ? 
 
 In vain, in vain they'll try ; 
 There's twice five hundred thousand men 
 
 Will know the reason why ! 
 
 Thou shalt enlarge thy borders, 
 
 Extend thy vast domain. 
 And divers holy orders, 
 
 Shall own thy holy reign.
 
 19G DKEA-M AND DEATH OF THE 
 
 Wide as the poles asunder, 
 Yet one in faith and truth ; 
 
 never ceasing wonder, 
 
 They join in peace and ruth. 
 
 Wesleyans, baptists, quakers, 
 Shall cast aside then- rage, 
 
 And wild unreasoning shakers 
 Their wrathful mood assuage. 
 
 John Knox is there, but gone 
 The rigours of his brow, 
 
 Of all his sternness none 
 Is left remaining now. 
 
 Wild zealots, fierce fanatics, 
 
 Old covenanter's grey. 
 Clasp hands with mitred abbots, 
 
 In mixed bat bright array. 
 
 Behold, in sweet communion, 
 The martyred dead are seen. 
 
 And Paris' murdered prelates. 
 Waving then- palm boughs green.
 
 LATE SAMUEL WILBERFOECE. 197 
 
 St. Peter bids tlie Peri 
 
 Of Paradise unlock 
 The gates, and make no query 
 
 What creed, what faith, Avhat flock ? 
 
 She ope's her portals wide, 
 And none she tlu-usts aside, 
 PkiOlls free salvation's tide. 
 For all the Saviour died ! 
 
 But softened are theii- features, 
 
 Yet all aflame their eyes ; 
 These were once fellow creatures. 
 
 They habit now the skies. 
 
 I see it, but not now. 
 Behold it, but not nigh, 
 
 How plain and clear, I trow. 
 To faith's keen piercing eye ! 
 
 The dewey eve was freshenmg. 
 The downs so dun and dry. 
 
 The dead man's placid face 
 Gazed upwards on the sky !
 
 198 THE LATE SAMUEL WILBEEFORCE. 
 
 The Cliurch had lost her leader, 
 She shed no tear of sorrow, 
 
 Solemn she said (God speed her), 
 " How brightly breaks his morrow." 
 
 " No carv'd stone we will rear, 
 We'll raise no sculptured urn ; 
 
 Let's place him on his bier, 
 And homewards sadly turn." 
 
 Thus passed away our hero, 
 In death's embraces cold ; 
 
 Our spirits were at zero, 
 Our thoughts to none we told ! 
 
 Let not the cynic sour, 
 
 Or Puritan reprove. 
 His love of courtly bower. 
 
 His humour's sportive grove. 
 
 To pure all things are pure. 
 
 Religion's full of cheer ; 
 Eelax thy front demure. 
 
 And shed a kindred tear! 
 
 FINIS.
 
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