« VorigeDoorgaan »
PREPARING FOR PUBLICATION AT THIS OFFICE: HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE REIGN OF GEORGE II. These very interesting and
valuable sketches of Queen Caroline, Sir Robert Walpole, Lord Chesterfield, Lady Mary Wortley Montague, Pope, and other celebrated characters of the time of George II., several of which have already appeared in the LIVING AGE, reprinted from Blackwood's Magazine,
will be issued from this office, in book form, as soon as completed.
PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY
LIT TELL & GAY, BOSTON.
TERMS OF SUBSCRIPTION. FOR Eight DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. But we do not prepay postage on less than a year, nor where we have to pay commission for forwarding the money.
Price of the First Series, in Cloth, 36 volumes, 90 dollars.
80 The Complete Work,
240 Any Volume Bound, 3 dollars ; Unbound, 2 dollars. The sets, or volumes, will be sent at the expense of the publishers.
PREMIUMS FOR CLUBS. For 5 new subscribers ($40.), a sixth copy; or a set of HORNE'S INTRODUCTION TO THE BIBLE, unabridged, in 4 large volumes, cloth, price sio ; or any õ of the back volumes of the LIVING AGE, in nombers, price $10.
From Saint Paul's. And past things change to painted show; A SONG OF ANGIOLA IN HEAVEN.
The sweet, clear quiring of the birds outbroke ;
The lit leaves laughed, — sky shook, and lo, FLOWERS, - that have died upon my Sweet,
I swooned, — and woke.
And now, 0 Flowers,
- Ye that indeed are dead, As never, through thick buds of spring,
Now for all waiting hours, Betwixt the daylight and the dew,
Well am I comforted;
That, without dim distress
Of tears, or weariness,
My Lady, verily, awaiteth me; For lo, - a garden-place I found,
So that until with Her I be, Well filled of leaves, and stilled of sound,
For my dear Lady's sake Well flowered, with red fruit marvellous ;
I am right fain to make And twixt the shining trunks would fit
Out from my pain a pillow, and to take Tall knights and silken maids, or sit
Grief for a golden garment unto me; With faces bent and amorous ;
Knowing that I, at last, shall stand There, in the heart thereof, and crowned
In that green garden-land, With woodbine and amaracus,
And, to the holding of my dear Love's hand,
Forget the grieving and the misery.
M. MAGNE, French Minister of Finance, reThe name, that like a pleasant thing
ports to the Emperor that the subscriptions to Men's lips remember, — murmuring, - the loan of 18,000,0001. amounted to 600,000,At once across the sward she came,
0001., or 34 times as much. No less than 781,292 Full fain she seemed, my own dear maid, persons sent in applications, and the cash deposAnd askéd ever as she came,
it amounted to 26,000,0001., being an average of Where hast thou stayed?” 331. for each applicant. M. Magne draws from
these facts the conclusion that the confidence of “Where hast thou stayed ?”—she asked as tho' the public in the credit of the State does not find The long years were an hour ago ;
its true and definitive expression in the price of But I spake not, nor answered,
the Funds, a remark intended to soothe a wellFor, looking in her eyes, I saw
known sore in his Majesty's mind that he cannot A light not lit of mortal law ; And in her clear cheek's changeless red,
get Rente up to its level under Louis Philippe,
far less up to its English level. Great efforts are And sweet, unshaken speaking found
made to reduce the importance of M. Magne's That in this place the Hours were dead, And Time was bound.
figures, but after all reductions the fact remains
that France has much money very widely diffused. “ This is well done,”- she said, “in thee,
Are there 800,000 persons in England who could O Love, that thou art come to me,
either be taught how to apply for a loan or find To this green garden glorious ;
a deposit of 301. apiece? Spectator, 22 Aug. Now truly shall our life be sped In joyance and all goodlihead, For here all things are fair to us,
AMONG the Reports on the Paris Exhibition is And none with burden is opprest,
a chapter on a new system of shoeing horses. And none is poor or piteous,
Its inventor, M. Charlier, contends that the presFor here is rest.
ent shoe destroys the horse's foot, and substitutes “ No formless Future blurs the sky ;
for it an iron band, let into a rectangular groove Men mourn not here, with dull dead eye,
scooped from the outer circle of the horse's foot. By shrouded shapes of Yesterday ;
This band is fastened with seven rectangular Betwixt the Coming and the Past
nails, driven into oval holes. The sole of the foot The flawless life hangs fixen fast
and the frog are thus allowed to touch the ground, In one unwearying To-Day,
the horse never slips, and never gets diseases of That darkens not ; for Sin is shriven,
the foot. The new shoe has been tried by M. And Death from out the doors is cast,
Lauguet, a large jobmaster in Paris, and has reAnd here is Heaven.”
duced lameness in his stables by two-thirds.
The Omnibus Company, moreover, have shod At “ Heaver " she ceased, -- and lifted up 1,200 horses, and speak of the improvement in Her fair head like a flower cup,
high terms. Has anybody ever clearly explained With rounded mouth, and eyes aglow ; why a horse can travel without shoes all his life Then set I lips to hers, and felt,
on a stony desert as hard as iron, and cannot Ah, God, -- the hard pain fade and melt, travel on an English road? Spectator, 22 Aug.
NO. VI.-THE YOUNG CHEVALIER.
HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE REIGN disappointed, injured, high-spirited wife, OF GEORGE II.
sometimes in open, sometime in tacit rebellion, and an unfaithful, exacting hus
band, weak, but tyrannical, wicked, yet, THERE are some landscapes in the world, religious as princes sometimes are permitted in which foreign memories, alien to the to be. Strangely enough, though Queen place, and in some cases less touching and Clementina, as she was called, would seem momentous than the natural local associa- to have been of a higher and stronger chartions, thrust themselves in, and obscure to acter than her husband, there is no referthe spectator at once the nationality and ence to her in any of her son's letters, and individual character of the spot. The Eng- little in the contemporary records. James, lish traveller, when he climbs the height of whatever his sins were, and they were many, Tusculum, has a scene before him full of seems to have kept, at least, the affection the grandest memories of a past which is of his children. But it is impossible to imthe common inheritance of the whole civil-agine a worse atmosphere for the growth ised world. His boyish lessons, his youth of young lives. The melancholy disposful studies, if they have done anything for sessed Family was surrounded by a little him, have qualified him to identify every coterie of a court ~ a community which, hillock, and hear a far-off voice out of every under the best of circumstances, has much tomb. Or if it is not old but modern Rome of the pettiness, personal squabbles, ruthat charms him, there are a hundred lights mours, and gossip of a village, embittered on that Campagna, a thousand influences of and set on edge in this case by the fact sound and sense about, enough to move the that its members were discontented and least imaginative soul; Rome lying distant broken men, whose hopes and hearts were on the great plain ; and the dome that elsewhere, and to whom intrigue and conBuonarotti hung between earth and heaven spiracy were daily bread. Plots and counstanding out the one thing visible, full of ter-plots of all kinds went on in the unquiet suggestions of the treasures lying under household. Every day a gloomy train atand about it, are sufficient to overbrim tended the mimic king across the Piazza to the eager brain. How is it that, as we the Church of the Holy Apostles, where he stand upon the wistful plateau with that went to pay his devotions. Meddlers of great scene before us, Rome and her mem- all kinds, ruined soldiers, broken-down ories fade from our eyes ? Shrivelling statesmen, shifty priests, surrounded the like a parched scroll,” the plain rolls up boys thus growing up to an inheritance of and passes away. The Highland hills all false hopes and idle greatness. The bells black with storms, the lonely, desolate, of the Santi Apostoli, and many a church northern seas, the wild moors and moun- beside, kept ringing in their young ears tain-passes, rise up a sad phantasmagoria with unbroken monotony; the fat ceremoover the grey olives and clustering vines. nials of the priestly court, of which they It is the wild pibroch that rings in our were half-dependents, mocked the exiles. cars, it is the heather that rustles below Now and then they gave a concert at their our feet, and the chill of the north that palace, to which the wandering English breathes into our faces. Why? Because cubs, with their “governors,” of whom yonder in the Duomo a line of inscription Lord Chesterfield and Lady Mary Wortley has caught the traveller's eye, obliterating give so uncomfortable a description, came Frascati and Rome, and all Italian thoughts : in crowds to stare at the handsome gallant “ Karolus Odoardus, Filius Jacobi.” These lad, condescending to play for their amuseare the words, and there lies the high ment, who was, so far as blood and herediheart mouldered into dust, which once beat tary right went, the undoubted heir of Engagainst the breast of the Young Chevalier! land; sometimes they rushed forth across
It was in Rome that the life of Charles the Campagna to cheat their inactivity with Stuart began, as it ended, in exile, in an the commotion of a hunting-party - poor unhappy distracted household, torn asunder copy of the stir of life. And this while out by, domestic dissensions, divided between a in the world cannons were roaring, battles
fighting. Young William of Cumberland, | futile old Pretender - and yet with a heart as yet unmarked by his terrible nickname, to be wrung for his boy, like other men. was getting himself glory at Dettingen at It was on a night in January 1744 - the the head of those English who were not his 9th — that the young Chevalier set forth on countrymen, that he should have the credit one of the most extraordinary, splendid, of them. It requires little imagination to and hopeless expeditions ever recorded in conceive how this contrast must have rank- history. A little after midnight," a heavy led in the high, courageous, adventurous coach, followed by a groom leading another soul of the young Stuart, rightful leader of horse, rattled through the stony Roman these Englishmen, who, but for the folly of streets to the Lateran Gate. The keys had his fathers, might have been at their head been left over night with the captain of the instead of the Hanoverian. He was five- guard, that no hindrance might be given to and-twenty, and had been, no doubt, for the Prince's hunting-party, on which his years consuming his heart in the tedious eagerness carried him forth so early. Genbustle of the ecclesiastical capital. All his tle Prince Henry, he who was afterwards biographers echo the general note of won- Cardinal York, was left behind asleep, and, der how a prince, trained under the soft knowing nothing, set out leisurely in the Italian skies, amid the supposed effemimacy morning to meet the fiery young Nimrod of Italian customs, could have been fit for who had preceded him, little thinking on the hardships of his after-life. But Charles, what wild chase it was that his elder brother it is evident, had been trained, by such ex- had gone forth. The chaise and the faithperience as that climate and those customs ful groom behind went on, across the wintry give, to bear heat and cold, the two great Campagna in the deep darkness, till they extremes, and had taken pains to inure came to the stony causeway, everlasting like himself to long walks and scant fare, as a all old Roman work, which ascends the AB hunter
among the hills would naturally do: ban hill. There, under some pretext, the At last, in the depths of winter in the year young Adventurer left bis companion in the 1744, the long-expected call came to the coach and mounted his horse. The story eager young man. France, with plans of goes on to tell how he stood still “at the her own in her mind, had suddenly be- turning,” alone with his faithful Norman thought herself of the Stuarts, by way, not groom, until the heavy coach, with Dunbar necessarily of restoring them, but of occu- in it, who for his part pretended to know pying the attention of England with her nothing, lumbered on upon the resounding own affairs, and making her recall not the road towards the hunting-tryst. When troops only, but money, with which an ob- the carriage was gone, Charles Edward sequious Ministry enabled King George to turned his horse's head the other way, and, subsidise all the world. The summons was facing towards Frascati, towards Florence, secret and sudden, known only to the father and Paris and England, “ gave his bridleand son and their most intimate counsel- reins a shake,” and escaped into the world. lors. Out of the brief overwhelming ex- When this romantic incident occurred, citement of that moment a few words come the artificial world held on its babbling to us full of natural feeling. “I trust, by course at home as if there had been no such the aid of God,” said the youth, trembling startling primitive chances in existence. with hope and eagerness, as he set out on his The armies and commanders of England enterprise, to the old man who had gone were on the Continent fighting for other through that phase and left his hopes be- contested successions, and hiring German hind him ages ago in the cold blank of the troops to aid their arms. The Ministers past, “that I shall soon be able to lay three in London were busy making treaties and crowns at your Majesty's feet.” The father granting subsidies, struggling to please answers tenderly, out of his life-in-death, King George, whose heart was rather that “Be careful of yourself, my dear boy. I of an Elector of Hanover than of a King of would not lose you for all the crowns in England. The world of fashion fluttered the world,” he says, with, one can imagine, and amused itself as one reads in Horace what smile and what sigh! Weak, feeble, Walpole's letters, its Tories pretending to