June 17.-My dearest wife wishes me to stop the whole thing, and close payment: but I will not! I will finish my six pictures, by the blessing of God!" "June 18.-This morning, fearing I should be involved, I returned to a young bookseller some books for which I had not paid him. No reply from -! , or And this Peel is the man who has no heart!" "June 21.-Slept horribly, prayed in sorrow, and got up in agitation." The next was the last entry made, immediately before the world closed upon the unhappy man— "June 22.-God forgive me: Amen. "Finis. B. R. HAYDON. "Stretch me no longer on this rough world.' Lear. spirit with which he preached the faith in them, were revelations of genius. His long blind struggle, in which he too often mistook waywardness for independence and strange blindness to the defects of his own works, was nevertheless characterized by unflagging energy, and illumined by coruscations of intellect and imagination. There is poetry in his life; he lays hold on our sympathies. His death is felt to be an event even at the crisis of a nation's history; and the active sympathy for him evinced by Sir Robert Peel, while engrossed by fierce personal attacks and the direction of great political combinations, is the most pleasing episode in the minister's existence. Haydon's life was one of unrelaxing industry. He might not be averse to luxuries-no artist or poet can be, from the temperament which is necessary to the development of his tastes and powers; "The end of the twenty-sixth volume.” but his tastes were simple and his indulgence not In summing up, Mr. Wakley said in leaving the immoderate. Even his fierce controversial spirit case in the hands of the jury, he could not fail to when roused cannot be regarded as the source of remark on the munificent act of Sir Robert Peel his misfortunes. It is against men of taste and towards the unfortunate deceased. He thought it intellect, conscious of similar if less glaring weakmust speak to the heart of a great many thousand nesses in their own minds, and irretentive of mere persons, that whilst others were, so to speak, at-personal dislikes, that such escapades precipitate a tempting to destroy his own mind, amidst a pressure of public business almost unparalleled, Sir Robert Peel had not forgotten the sufferings of others. man. In time they are sure to be forgotten and forgiven. It is among the mere drudges of life, absorbed in daily household trifles, that undying enmities are to be sought. The poverty and emThe Reverend Mr. Hyman here begged permis- barrassments of men like Haydon are caused partsion to state, that he had not yet said all that he ly by themselves, it is true, but partly also by incould in reference to the generosity of the right complete social arrangements. They who think honorable baronet. Subsequently to the deceased's the rugged incompliance of Haydon's nature suffideath, Sir Robert, addressing one of the executors, cient to account for his misfortunes, must be puzhad enclosed a check for £200 from the royal zled to account for those of Laman Blanchard, in bounty fund, in order, as he stated in his letter, whom unwearying industry and regular habits, that the family might not be molested before a pub-combined with unoffending, attractive, unvarying lic appeal could be made in their behalf: Sir Robert added, that when that was done, of course he should be most ready to come forward so far as his private purse and personal influence were concerned. The coroner, after having again remarked on the munificence of the premier, inquired whether the jury were unanimous in their verdict? WHAT CAN BE DONE FOR LITERARY MEN AND gentleness, were proved equally incompetent to the task of providing for a family. Sir Walter Scott had his full share of the national taste for acquisition; yet, wanting the talent, his " fairy gold" turned into withered leaves long before his death. The The Titian Haydon and his gentler fellows in misfortune were caught in the same toils. The foreman replied in the affirmative. It was artist and the thinker are not money-making or this-"We find that the deceased, Benjamin Rob-money-keeping animals. It is not the luxurious ert Haydon, died from the effect of wounds inflicted alone who are spendthrifts: easy natures-and by himself; and that the said Benjamin Robert such the whole artistical tribe are-can waste Haydon was in an unsound state of mind when he money without any apparent means or result. It committed the act." is in vain that we seek to bend the laws of nature to our will: we must seek to adapt ourselves to these laws. It is of the utmost consequence to society that the race of thinkers and imaginative constructors be kept alive and vigorous. Pensions The tragic close of Haydon's career is of a na- for poor poets and philosphers do more harm than ture to command attention even amidst the intense good. They must be given according to the judg contemporaneous public excitement. The long ment of those intrusted with their distribution for and terrible struggle of an individual mind that the time being, and that is as likely to be wrong has terminated so shockingly, domineers over the as right. To award literary pensions to every litimagination almost with more power than the gre-térateur or artist in bad circumstances through no garious enthusiasm evolved in the suicidal death- fault of his own, were to bring around the bestowstruggle of shattered factions. In May, 1804, er a crowd of idle sturdy beggars: literature as Haydon came to London for the first time, a san- well as religion will be overstocked by false guine, aspiring boy, bent upon reaching the lofti- monks. Find work for them that they can do, and est height of art. In May, 1846, he closed his Men of business are averse to employ last losing exhibition, visited by a few cold specta- men of a literary turn; as many a one, who in detors, while eager crowds were squeezing into the spair has sought to escape from the muse's bowers same building to wonder at a dwarf. The convic- to the working-day world, has experienced. tion was irresistible that his career as an artist had There is something of prejudice in this, but at the been a failure. Though wanting the faculty of same time an instinctively correct sense. It is the creative artist, his intuitive recognition of the partly felt that the man of intellectual tastes might value of the Elgin marbles, and the missionary be more usefully employed some other way, partly wages. that these applicants are interlopers who would take bread out of the mouths of regularly-trained devotees of unimaginative toil. Every country in Europe has found useful, remunerative, and congenial employment for the literary and artistical class, except our own. It is in the organization and direction of national record-offices, public libraries, museums, and galleries of art-in professorships of art, science, and literature-in the construction and ornament of buildings for such institutions, and other public purposes-in effecting voyages of discovery, conducting scientific experiments on a scale too great for private finances, and preparing their results for publication-that men who have cultivated in preference the faculties of reason and imagination are to find the means of earning a not precarious subsistence by really serving society. With a timid, hesitating hand-desultorily and at intervals-experiments in this way have been made of late years. To be successful, the work should be undertaken at once, on a comprehensive scale, by the annually renewed vote of a liberal sum to supply the intellectual wants of society, placed at the disposal of a responsible minister for education, and the promotion of art, science, and literature. This is the expiation our legislature owes for leaving so much of English intellect and imagination to perish miserably in past years. From the Spectator. A CORN-LAW BALLAD: ADDRESSED TO SIR ROBERT PEEL, BY AN ADMIRER. "He that withholdeth corn, the people shall curse him; but blessing shall be upon the head of him that selleth it."-Prov. xi. 26. THE bigoted aristocrat, The puppy, and the fool, Who maunder o'er the crude conceits May taunt thee with apostasy, But like the bark of poodle dog Their slanders pass thee by; For e'en amid the thoughtlessness, Which dog the pale mechanic And the tiller of the soil, A father's arm is strengthened, And a mother dries her tear, When they think that in the time to come Bread will not be so dear. And so at morn and eventide, And every scanty meal, They pray that God may bless the heart And nerve the hand of Peel. But not to minds gigantic, CXVII. To men who comprehend The wants of empires, and who look Can the herd of common intellects, No, He the Hero of an age, Then in the after ages, When Albion is no more, Long as the kindly accents Of the English tongue are known, Or in the torrid zone, The carnage-loving Dane, And thus by statesmen and by bards "He braved the mighty and the rich, King's College, Cambridge. E. "LORD BROUGHAM," by Mr. A. E. Chalon, R.A. We have never seen a more successful attempt at representing the face of this extraordinary man:the restlessness, the sleeplessness, the aggressiveness, and the conscience of power, are all depicted, without derogation from that peculiarity of eye which makes the original appear at once the most inquisitive and the most apathetic of men. RELICS FOR THE SHAKSPERIAN LIBRARY. 1. Two of Caliban's sticks. 2. The bare bodkin with which we might make our quietus. 3. All Macduff's little chickens and their dam (stuffed.) 4. The bladders with which Wolsey swam in a sea of glory. 5. Button from the leathern coat the Jaques' stag stretched almost to bursting. 6. Title page (very old) of one of the books found in the running brooks. 7. Sheath of the dagger which Macbeth thought he saw before him. 8. Hair from the tail of the ass that Dogberry wished himself to be written down.-Punch. AN EVIL OMEN.-It is stated to be a sign of the expected resignation of the present ministry, that Sir James Graham is about to be raised to the peerage, by the title of Lord Preston. We presume that the elevation of a cabinet minister is considered a sign of its being all up with the government. We know that throwing up an insignificant object will frequently show which way the wind blows. Punch. CHAPTER XXIX. dian stranger. She felt herself invincible until the very moment that Ralph gave smiling, courteous answer to her; and then, as at the look and voice of a charmer, the Amazonian breast-plate (forged over many teas) she had buckled on, melted like frost-work at the sun, and left her an unprotected, because believing woman. 66 This very Does it live in the memory of the reader that Snipeton, only a chapter since, spoke of a handmaid on her way from Kent to make acquaintance with his fire-side divinities? That human flower, with a freshness of soul like the dews of Paradise upon her is, reader, at this very moment in Fleet- Why, and what 's them?" cried the girl, sudstreet. Her face is beaming with happiness-her denly fixed before St. Dunstan's church. At the half-opened mouth is swallowing wonders-and moment the sun reached the meridian, and the two her eyes twinkle, as though the London pavement wooden giants, mechanically punctual, striking she at length treads upon was really and truly the their clubs upon the bell, gave warning note of very best of gold, and dazzled her with its glorify- noon Those giants have passed away; those ing brightness. She looks upon the beauty and two great ligneous heroes of the good old times wealth about her gaily, innocently, as a little child have been displaced and banished; and we have would look upon a state coffin; the velvet is so submitted to learn the hour from an ordinary dial. rich, and the plates and nails so glittering. She There was a grim dignity in their bearing—a might has not the wit to read the true meaning of the in their action-that enhanced the value of the splendor; cannot, for a moment, dream of what it time they noted: their clubs fell upon the senses covers. Indeed, she is so delighted, dazzled by of the parishioners and way-farers, with a power what she sees, that she scarcely hears the praises and impressiveness not compassable by a round, of the exceeding beauty of her features, the won- pale-faced clock. It was, we say, to give a worth drous symmetry of her form; praises vehemently, and solemnity to time, to have time counted by industriously uttered by a youthful swain who such grave tellers. If the parishioners of St. Dunwalks at her side, glancing at her fairness with stan and the frequent passengers of Fleet street the libertine's felonious look. He eyes her inno- have, of late years, contributed more than their cence, as any minor thief would eye a brooch or fair quota to the stock of national wickedness, may chain; or, to give the youth his due, he now and not the evil be philosophically traced to the depothen ventures a bolder stare; for he has the fine sition of their wooden monitors? intelligence to know that he may rob that country valuable surmise of ours ought to be quoted in wench of herself, and no Bridewell-no Newgate parliament-that is, if lawmakers properly prewill punish the larceny. Now, even the bow of pared themselves for their solemn tasks, by duly sixpenny riband on her bonnet is protected by a conning histories like the present-quoted in statute. Besides, Master Ralph Gum knows the opposition to the revolutionary movement of the privileges of certain people in a certain condition time. For we have little doubt that a motion for of life. Young gentlemen born and bred in Lon- the return of the number of felonies and misdedon, and serving the nobility, are born and edu-meanors-to say nothing of the social offences that cated the allowed protectors of rustic girls. The pretty country things-it was the bigoted belief of the young footman-might be worn, like bouquets on a birth-day. And the wench at his side is a nosegay expressly sent by fortune from the country for his passing felicity and adornment. True it is, that Master Ralph Gum is scarcely looming out of boyhood; but there is a sort of genius that soars far beyond the parish register. Ralph's age is not to be counted by the common counters, years; but by the rarer marks of precocious intelligence. He is a liveried prodigy; one of those terribly clever animals that, knowing everything, too often confound simple people with their fatal knowledge. Therefore was it specially unfortunate for the damsel that of all the crowd that streamed through Fleet street, she should have asked Ralph Gum to indicate her way to St. Mary Axe. At the time, she was setting due eastward; when the faithless vassal assured her that she was going clean wrong; and, as happily he himself had particular business towards her destination, it would give him a pleasure he could never have hoped for, to guide her virgin steps to St. Mary Axe. And she-poor maid !-believed and turned her all-unconscious face towards Temple Bar. The young man, though a little dark, had such bright black eyes-and such very large, and very white teeth-and wore so very fine a livery, that it would have been flying in the face of truth to doubt him. Often at the rustic fire-side had she listened to the narrated wickedness of London; again and again had she pre-armed her soul with sagacious strength to meet and confound the deception that in so many guises prowled the city streets, for the robbery and destruction of the Arca may be the more grave because not named in the statutes-committed in the parish of St. Dunstan's, would show an alarming increase since the departure of St. Dunstan's wooden genii. A triumphant argument this-we modestly conceive-for the conservation of wooden things in high places. "La! and what's them?" again cried the girl, twelve o'clock being told by the strikers. 66 Why, my tulup, them 's a couple of cruel churchwardens turned into wood hundreds of years ago, for their sins to the poor. But you are a beauty, that you are!" added Ralph, with burning gallantry. "It can't be; and you never mean it," said the maiden, really forgetting her own loveliness in her wonder of the giants. Turned into wood? Unpossible! Who did it?" 66 Why, Providence-or, something of the kind, you know," replied the audacious footman. "You've heard of Wittington, I should think, my marigold, eh? He made a fortin in the Indies, where he let out his cat to kill all the vermin in all the courts-and a nice job I should think puss must have had of it. Well, them giants was churchwardens in his time: men with flesh and blood in their hearts, though now they'd bleed nothing but saw-dust." 66 You don't say so! Poor souls! And what did they do?" asked the innocent damsel. Mr. Ralph Gum scratched his head for inspiration; and then made answer: "You see, there was a poor woman-a sailor's wife-with three twins in her arms. And she went to one churchwarden, and said as how she was a starving; and that her very babbies could n't cry for weakness. And he told her to come to-morrow, for it wasn't : the time to relieve paupers and then she went to the other churchwarden, and he sent out word that she must come again in two days, and not afore." "Two days!" cried the maiden. "The cruel ereturs! didn't they know what time was to the starving?" "Why, no; they did n't; and for that reason, both the churchwardens fell sick, all their limbs every day a turning into wood. And then they died; and they was going to bury 'em, when next morning their coffins was found empty; and they was seen were they now stand. And there was a act of parliament made that their relations should n't touch 'em, but let 'em stand to strike the clock, as a warning to all wicked churchwardens to know what hours are to folks with hungry bellies." "Wonderful!" exclaimed the girl, innocent as a bleating lamb. "And now, young man, you're sure this is the way to Mary Axe?" "Didn't I tell you, my sunflower, I was born there? I would carry your bundle for you, only you see, his lordship, the nobleman I serve, is very particular. Livery 's livery;-he'd discharge any of us that demeaned himself to carry a bundle. Bless you; there are young fellows in our square-only I'm not proud-that would n't speak to you with such a thing as a bundle; they would n't, my wild rose. But then, you're such a beauty!" "No; I am not. I know what I am, young man. I'm not of the worst, but a good way from the best. Besides, beauty, as they say, is only skin-deep; is it?" asked the maiden, not unwilling to dwell upon the theme. "Well, you 're deep enough for me anyhow," replied the footboy, and he fixed his eyes as though he thought them burning-glasses, on the guileless stranger. "And now, here you are, right afore Temple Bar." "Mercy! what a big gate! and what 's it for, young man?" cried the wondering girl. "Why, I once heard it said in our hall that Temple Bar was built on purpose to keep the scum of the city from running over into the West End. Now, this I don't believe," averred Ralph. "Nor I, neither," cried the ingenuous wench, "else, does n't it stand to reason they'd keep the gate shut?" "My 'pinion is what I once heard-that Temple Bar was really built at the time of the great plague of London, to keep the disease from the king and queen, the rest of the royal family, with all the nobility, spirital and temperal." And Ralph coughed. 66 Well, if you don't talk like a prayer-book!" exclaimed the maiden, full of admiration. "I ought by this time; I was born to it, my dear. Bless your heart, when I was no higher nor that, I was in our house. I learnt my letters from the plate; yes, real gold and silver; none of your horn-hooks. And as for pictures, I did n't go to books for them neither; no, I used to study the coach-panels. There wasn't a griffin, nor a cockatrice, nor a tiger, nor a viper of any sort upon town I was n't acquainted with. That's knowing life, I think. It is n't for me to talk, my bed of violets; but you would n't think the Latin I know; and all from coaches." "Wonderful! But are you sure this is the way to Mary Axe?" and with the question the maiden crossed the city's barrier, and with her lettered deceiver trod the Strand. "If you ask me that again," answered the slightly wounded Ralph, "I don't know that I'll answer you.-Come along. As the carriage says, Hora et semper.' 66 999 Now, if you go on in that way, I won't believe a word you say. English for me; acause then I can give you as good as you send. No; wholesome English, or I won't step another step ;" and it was plain that the timid rustic felt some slight alarm-was a little oppressed by the mysterious knowledge of her first London acquaintance. She thought there was some hocus pocus associated with Latin: it was to her the natural utterance of a conjuror. With some emphasis she added, "All I want to know is-how far is it to Mary Axe?" 66 Why, my carnation, next to nothing now. Step out; and you 'll be there afore you know it. As I say, I only wish I could carry your bundleI do, my daisy." Mr. Gum might have spared his regrets. Had his gracious majesty pulled up in his carriage, and offered to be the bearer of that bundle, its owner would have refused him the enjoyment; convinced that it was not the king of England who proposed the courtesy, but the father of all wickedness, disguised as royal Brunswick, and driving about in a carriage of shadows, for the especial purpose of robbing rustic maids. As we have intimated, the damsel had, in the fastnesses of Kent, learned prudence against the iniquities of London. And so, believing that St. Mary Axe was close at hand, she hopefully jogged on. "What a many churches!" she said, looking at St. Clement's. "Well, the folks in London ought to be good." "And so they are, my wallflower," rejoined the footman. The best in the world; take 'em in the lump. And there, you see, is another church. And besides what we have, we 're agoing to have I don't know how many hundred more built, that everybody, as is at all anybody, may have a comfortable pew to his whole self, and not be mixed up-like people in the gallery of a playhouse-along of the lower orders. I dare say, now, your grandmother in the country". "Ain't got no grandmother," said the girl. "Well, it's all the same: the old women where you come from-I daresay they talked to you about the wickedness of London, didn't they? And how all the handsome young men you 'd meet was nothing more than roaring lions, rolling their eyes about, and licking their mouths, to eat up anybody as come fresh from the daisies? Didn't they tell you this, eh, beauty?" cried Ralph. A little on it," said the girl, now pouting, now giggling. "And you 've seen nothing of the sort? Upon your word and honor now, have you?" and the footman tried to look winningly in the girl's eyes, and held forth, appealingly, his right hand. "Nothing yet; that is, nothing that I knows on," was the guarded answer of the damsel. "To be sure not. Now my opinion is, there's more downright wickedness-more roguery and sin of all sorts in an acre of the country than in any five miles of London streets: only, we don't kick up a noise about our virtue and all that sort of stuff. Whilst quite to the contrary, the folks in the country do nothing but talk about their innocence, and all such gammon, eh?" "I can't hear innocence called gammon afore me," said the girl. "Innocence is innocence, and nothing else; and them as would alter it ought to blush for themselves." "To be sure they ought," answered Gum. "But the truth is, because lambs don't run about London streets-and birds don't hop on the pavement and hawthornes and honeysuckles don't grow in the gutters-London 's a place of wickedness. Now, you know, my lily of the valleyfolks arn't a bit more like lambs for living among 'em, are they?" "Is this the way to Mary Axe?" asked the girl, with growing impatience. "Tell you, 't is n't no distance whatever, only first"-and the deceiver turned with his victim out of the Strand-"first you must pass Drury-lane playhouse." The playhouse-really the playhouse!" exclaimed the wench, with an interest in the institution that in these times would have sufficiently attested her vulgarity. "I should like to see the playhouse." 66 Why, if I have n't taken the wrong turning, I'm blest, and that 's lost us half a mile and more. I tell you what we 'll do. This is a nice comfortable house.", Ralph spoke of the Brown Bear; at that day, the house of ease to felons, on their transit from the opposite police office to Newgate. "A quiet respectable place. We'll just go in and rest ourselves, and have atween us half-a-pint of ale." "Not a drop; not for the blessed world,” cried the girl. "And then, I'll tell you all about the playhouse and the players. Bless you! some of 'em come to our house, when the servants give a party. And we make 'em sing songs and tell stories, and when they go away, why, perhaps, we put a bottle of wine in their pockets-for, poor things! they can't afford such stuff at home-and then they send us orders, and we go into the pit for nothing. And so, we 'll just sit down and have half-a-pint of ale, won't we?" "Well then, my double heartsease, here it is," and Ralph with his finger pointed to the tremendous temple. With curious, yet reverential looks, did the girl gaze upon the mysterious fabric. It was delicious to behold even the outside of that brick and mortar rareeshow. And staring, the girl's heart was stirred with the thought of the wonders, the mysteries, acted therein. She had seen plays. Three times at least she had sat in a wattle-built fane, and seen the dramatic priesthood in their hours of sacrifice. Pleasant, though confused, was her remembrance of the strange harmonies that filled her heart to overflowing-that took her away into another world-that brought sweet tears into her eyes-and made her think (she had never thought so before) that there was really something besides the drudgery of work in life; that men and women were made to have some holiday thoughts-thoughts that breathed strange, Mr. Ralph Gum intonated his orders like a lord. comforting music, even to creatures poor and low The ale was brought, and Ralph drank to the as she. Then recollections flowed afresh as she maiden with both eyes and lips. Liquor made looked upon that mighty London mystery-that him musical: and with a delicate compliment to charmed place that in day-dreams she had thought the rustic taste of his fair companion, he warbled of that had revealed its glorious, fantastic won-of birds and flowers. One couplet he trolled over ders in her sleep. The London playhouse! She again and again. "Like what they call sentiment, saw it-she could touch its walls. One great hope don't you?" said Ralph. of her rustic life was consummated; and the greater would be accomplished. Yes: sure as her life, she would sit aloft in the gallery, would hear the music, and see the London players' spangles. "And this is Drury-lane!" cried the wench, softened by the thought-" well! I never!" Silently the girl suffered herself to be led into the Brown Bear. The voice of the charmer had entered her heart, and melted it. To hear about plays and players was to hear sweet music: to listen to one who knew-who had spoken to the glorious London actors—who, perhaps, with his own hand had put wine-bottles in their pockets-was to gain a stride in the world. The gossip would not delay her above half an hour from St. Mary Axe; and what wonders would repay her for the lingering! Besides, she was tired-and the young man was very kind-very respectful-nothing at all like what she had heard of London young men and, after all, what was half-an-hour, sooner or later? "You like plays, do you? So do I. Well, when we know one another a little better-for I would n't be so bold as to ask it now-in course not-won't we go together?" said Ralph; and the girl was silent. She did not inquire about St. Mary Axe; but trustingly followed her companion, her heart dancing to the fiddles of Drury-lane: the fiddles that she would hear. "And this is Bowstreet my jessamy," said Ralph. 66 "What's Bow-street?" inquired the maiden. How happy in the ignorance of the question! "Where they take up the thieves, and examine 'em, afore they send 'em to Newgate to be hanged." The wench shivered. Never saw nobody hanged, I suppose? Oh, it's nothing, after two or three times. We'll have a day of it, my sweet marjoram, some Monday. We'll go to the Old Baily in the morning, and to the play at night: "How can I tell?" answered the girl: "it's some of your fine London stuff, I suppose." "Not a bit on it; sentiment's sentiment all over the world. Don't you know what sentiment is? Well, sentiment 's words that 's put together to sound nicely as it were-to make you feel inclined to clap your hands, you know. And that 's a sentiment that I've been singing❞—and he repeated the burden, bawling: Oh the cuckoo's a fine bird as ever you did hear, And he sucks little birds' eggs, to make his voice clear." "There! don't you see the sentiment now?" The maiden shook her head. "Why, sucking the little birds' eggs-that's the sentiment. Precious clever birds, them cuckoos, eh? They 're what I call birds of quality. They've no trouble of hatching, they have n't; no trouble of going about in the fields, picking up worms and grubs for their nestlings: they places 'em out to wet nurse; makes other birds bring 'em up: while they do nothing themselves but sit in a tree, |