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dwellings, and into the deserted guard-house named Ranch,* who, it was said, had come to in the war department. These were soon fol- relieve the secretary of war, was seized and lowed by a fierce and noisy mob, armed with hung in the court by his own scarf, but foraxes, pikes, and iron bars, which halted be- tunately cut down by a National Guard be. fore the war office, and began to thunder at fore life was extinct. The mob rushed into its massive doors.

the private apartment of the minister, but The officer of ordnance in vain attempted plundered it merely of the papers, which were to communicate to the crowd the order of conveyed to the university. They came with the ministry, that all firing should cease. a sterner purpose. The act of resignation, A member of the academic legion, from the exhibited to the crowd by the deputy Smol. window, over the gateway, waved with a ka, was scornfully received by the people, white bandkerchief to the tumultuous masses, while the freshness of the writing, the sand and, exhibiting the order signed by Latour adhering still to the ink, betrayed the proxiand Wessenberg, read its contents to the mity of the hand which had just traced it. crowd.

Meanwhile, the crowd bad penetrated the But a pacification was not to be thought of; corridors of the fourth story, and were not the people were too excited, their fury could long in discovering the place of Latour's cononly be appeased by blood ; that delayed mea- cealment. Hearing their approach, and resure was not sufficient; they made negative cognizing the voice of Smolka, vice-president gesticulations, and summoned the student to of the assembly, who was doubtless anxious come down and open the portals to their ad- to protect him, Latour came out of his remission. The tumult increased from minute treat. to minute; the closed doors at length gåve They descended together from the fourth way under the axes of the mob, and the peo-story by a narrow stairway, on the rightple streamed in, led by a man “in a light hand side of the building, and entered the gray coat.”

yard by the pump. At each successive landThe secretary of war, having by this time ing place, the tumult and the crowd increasabandoned the idea of defence, on the grounded; but the descent was slow, and rendered either that it was useless or impolitic, no more and more difficult by the numbers which shots were fired or active resistance offered ; joined the crowd at every turn of the stairs. but the orderlies with their horses retired to At length they reached the court below, and the stables, and the grenadiers into an inner Count Latour, although he had been severely court. At first only single individuals en-pressed, was still unhurt; but here the poputered, and their course was not character- lace, which awaited them, broke in upon the ized by violence; then groups, proceeding group that still clustered around Latour, and slowly, listening, and searching; and, at last dispersed it. In vain did the deputies, Smolthe tumultuous masses thundered in the ka and Sierakowski, endeavor to protect the rear.

minister; in vain did the Count Leopold Ere long the cry rung on the broad stair-Gondrecourt attempt to cover him by the excase, “Where is Latour? he must die!" At posure of his own body. A workman struck this moment the ministers and their follow- the hat from his head; others pulled him by ers in the building, with the exception of La- his gray locks, he defending himself with his tour himself, found means to escape, or min- hands, which were already bleeding. At gled with the throng. The deputies, Smolka, length a ruffian, disguised as a Magyar, gave Borrosch, Goldmark, and Sierakowski, who him, from behind, a mortal blow with a ham. had undertaken to guarantee protection to mer, the man in the gray coat cleft his face the threatened ministers, arrived in the hope with a sabre, and another plunged a bayonet of restraining the mob. The numerous cor- into his heart. A hundred wounds followed, ridors and cabinets of the war office (former- and, with the words, “I die innocent!" he ly a monastery of the Jesuits) were filled with gave up his loyal and manly spirit. A cry of the crowd; the tide of insurrection now rose exultation from the assembled crowd rent the to an uncontrollable height; and the danger air at this event. Every indignity was offerof Latour became every moment more immi-ed to his body ; before he had ceased to nent.

| breathe even, they hung him by a cord to The generals who were with him, per- the grating of a window in the court of the ceiving the peril, entreated him to throw war office. He had been suspended there himself upon the Nassau regiment or the but a few minutes when, from the outrages Dutch Meister grenadiers, and retreat to their committed on it, the body fell. barracks. He scorned the proposal, denied They then dragged it to the Hof, and susthe danger, and even refused, for some time, pended it to one of the bronze candelabras to change his uniform for a civilian's dress, that adorn that extensive, and much freuntil the hazard becoming more evident, he quented square, and there treated it with put on plain clothes, and went up into a small every indignity; it remained for fourteen room in the roof of the building, where he hours exposed to the gaze of a mocking soon after signed a paper declaring that, with populace. his majesty's consent, he was ready to resign • A student of the Polytechnic school, for brevity, usual the office of minister of war. A Tecnicker, I ly called Tecnickers.

SOME SMALL POEMS. WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MONTHLY MAGAZINE

BY R. H. STODDARD.

| SONG.
THUNG upon your breast in pain,
1 And poured my kisses there like rain;
A flood of tears, a cloud of fire,
That fed and stitled wild desire,
And lay like death upon my heart,
To think that we must learn to path;
For we must part, and live apart!
Had I, that hour of dark unrest,
But plunged a dagger in your breast
And in mine own, it had been well;
For now I had been spared the hell
That racks my lone and loving heart,
To think that we must learn to part;
For we must part, and die apart!

Kiss his forehead, pale and fair,
Kiss the ringlets of his hair,
Kiss his heavy-lidded eyes,
Where the mist of slumber lies;
Kiss his throat, his cheek, his brow,
And his red, red lips, as I do now,
While he sleeps so sound and slow,
On the beart that loves him so,
Dreaming of the sad, and olden,
And the loving, and the golden
Wind of summers long ago!

LU LU. TIE shining cloud that broods above the hill, Casts down its shadows over all the lawns, The snowy swan is sailing out to sea, Leaving behind a rutled surge of light! Lu Lu is like a cloud in memory, And shades the ancient brightness of my mind: A swan upon the ocean of my heart, Floating along a path of golden thoughts ! The light of evening slants adown the sky, Poured from the inner folds of western cloud; But in the cast there is a spot of blue, And in that heavenly spot the evening star! The tresses of Lu Lu are like the light, Gushing from out her turban down her neck: And like that Eye of Heaven, her mild blue eye, And in its deeps there hangs a starry tear!

THOSE WITO LOVE LIKE ME,
THOSE who love like me,

When their meeting ends
Friends can hardly be,

But less or more than friends!
With common words, and smiles,

We cannot meet, and part,
For something will prevent

Sornething in the heart!
The thought of other days,

The dream of other years,
. With other words, and smiles,

And other sighs and tears!
For all who love like me,

When their parting ends,
Friends must never be,

But more or less than friends!

THE LATE ELIOT WARBURTON. THE melancholy fate of the author of The 1 Crescent and the Cross, Canada, Darien, &c., has beun stated in these pages. In Great Britain, where he was well known and highly esteemed by literary men, there bave been many feeling and apparently just tributes to his inemory, one of the most interesting of which is a memoir in the Dublin University Magazine, from which we transcribe the following paragraphs:

“It was during an extended tour in the Mediterranean about ten years ago, that Mr. Warburton sent some sheets of manuscript notes to Mr. Lever, at that time Editor of the Dublin University Magazine. These at once caught that gentleman's attention, and he gladly gave them publicity, under the title of " Episodes of Eastern Travel," in successive numbers of the magazine, where they were universally admired for the grace and liveliness of their style. Mr. Lever, however, soon saw that though for the purposes of his periodical these papers were extremely valuable, the author was not consulting his own best interests by continuing to give his travels to the world in that form ; and, with generous disinterestedness, advised him to collect what he had already published, and the remainder of his notes, and make a book of the whole. Mr. Warburton followed his advice, entered into terms with Mr. Colburn, and published his travels under the title of “The Crescent and the Cross.'

“Of this book it is needless for us to speak. In spite of the formidable rivalry of an Eothen,' which appeared about the same time, it sprang at once into public favor, and is one of the very few books of modern travels of which the sale has continued uninterrupted through successive editions to the present time. Were we to pronounce upon the secret of its success, we should lay it to its perfect right-mindedness. A changeful truth, a versatile propriety of feeling initiates the author, as it were, into the heart of each successive subject; and we find bim as profoundly impressed with the genius of the Holy Land, as he is steeped, in the proper place, in the slumberous influences of the dreamy Nile, upon whose bosom he rocks his readers into a trance, to be awakened only by the gladsome originality of these melodies which come mirthfully on their ears from either bank. And, we may observe in passing, it is precisely the want of this, which prevents the indisputable power and grace of · Éothen’ from having their full effect with the public.

" Passages of beauty, almost of sublimity, stand isolated from our sympathies by the interposed cynicism of a few caustic remarks; and scenes of the world's most ancient reverence and worship become needlessly disenchanted under the speil of some skeptical sneer.

“But we must not turn aside to criticise. Since

TO THE WINDS. Blow fair to-day, ye changing Winds !

And smooth the stormy sea : For now ye waft a sacred bark,

And bear a friend from me. From you he flies, ve Northern Winds,

Your Southern mates to seek;
So urge his keel until he feels

Their kisses on his cheek:
And when their tropic kisses warm,

And tropic skies impart
Their floods of sunshine to his veins,

Their gladness to his heart-
Blow fair again, ye happy Winds!

And sunooth again the sea,
For then ye'll want the blessed bark,

And bear my friend to me!

" WIND OF SUMMER, MURMUB LOW." WIND of summer, murmur low, Where the charmed waters flow, While the songs of day are dying, And the bees are homeward fiying, As the breezes come and go. Come and go, hum and blow, Winds of summer, sweet and low. Ere my lover sinks to rest, While he lies upon my breast,

the publication of the Crescent and the Cross,'ı “With an upwelling of philanthropy so pure Mr. Warburton has written, or edited, a number of and perennial as this, the preliminary in vestigaworks, some historical, others of fiction, of which tions could have been only a delight to him. Other his last romance, • Darien,' only appeared as he men might be forced to them as a revolting duty; was on the eve of departing on the fatal voyage. he chose the inquiry, with very dubious bopes of It has been remarked as a singular circumstance, bettering himself by prosecuting it, because his that in this tale he has prefigured his own fate. A heart was full of compassion, and he thought he burning ship is described in terms which would might do good. We repeat, what we can state have served as a picture of the frightful reality he from personal knowledge, that the bent of Mr. was himself doomed to witness. The coincidence, Warburton's mind was latterly towards works of casual as it is, has imparted a melancholy interest general utility; and it is with great satisfaction we to that story, which will long be wept over as the learn, what we had not been aware of until the parting and presaging legacy of a gifted spirit, public papers announced it, that his projected visit prematurely snatched away.

to the New World was a mission, in which the in“These lighter effusions most probably grew terests of humanity were to have in him an adro out of the craving of the publishers for the pres-cate and champion. tige of his name, already found to be valuable “Into his private life we feel that, under preeven on title-pages; and the ready market they sent circumstances, it would be indelicate, as well commanded could not but prove an excitement to as out of place, to enter. Surrounded as he was continue and multiply them. This might be con with all the blessings which the domestic relations sidered in an ulterior sense unfortunate; for we can bestow, beloved by his intimates, caressed by are inclined to think that the true bent of Mr. War- the gifted and the good, Eliot Warburton lived burton's mind, if not of his talents, was towards the centre of a radiating circle of bappiness. His graver and less imaginative studies; and we know personal qualities were of no common order. His that this propensity was growing upon him with society was eagerly sought after. With a fastidi. maturer years and soberer reflections.

ous lassitude of air, and an apparent disinclination " It is not exclusively from the bearing of his re- to exertion, he possessed remarkable force of searches and the general drift of his correspond thought and fluency of diction; and it was no urence that we infer this; though both set laiterly common thing to see him, when he bad begun to in that direction. He had for some time been ac- relate passages from his experience in foreign tually at work with definite objects in view. One countries, or adventures in his own, the centre of subject which he took up warmly was a British a gradually increasing audience, amidst which he History of Ireland; that is, a history intended to sat, improvisating a sort of romantic recitation, undeal impartial justice between the Irish people on til he was completely carried away on the current the one side, and the British empire on the other; of his own eloquence, and lost every sense of where reviewing the politics of successive periods, peither he was or what he was doing, in the enthusiasm from the Irish nor the English side of the ques- he had fanned up and saw reflected around him, tion, but with reference to the general interests of This power was a peculiar gift; and he loved to the whole.

exercise it. In this form many of his happiest ef"The task, would have proved an arduous fusions have been given utterance to; and every one, under any circumstances—perhaps an in-body who has heard him at such inspired moments vidious one; but, what was worse, even when ac- has felt regret that the brilliant bursts which so complished, the book might have turned out a dull delighted him, should have been stamped upon affair. So, with a view to lightening the reading, no more retentive tablets than the ears of ordinary he had proposed to embody with it memoirs of listeners. the Viceroys, thus keeping the British connection “Of this amiable, refined, and gifted individual, prominent, wbile enlivening the pages with bio- we are afraid to speak as warmly as our heart graphical touches.

would dictate. Before us lie the few hasty lines"Acting on these ideas, he had actually begun but not too hurried to be the channel of a parting a ‘History of the Viceroys' in conjunction with a kindness-scrawled to us on the first day of this literary friend, and was only deterred from prose- year—the last day the writer was ever to pass in cuting it by the apathy, or rather discouragement, England. They are, perhaps, amongst the latest of the London publishers, who felt no inclination words he ever wrote. 'I am off,' they run, 'for to venture upon an Irish historical speculation. the West Indies to-morrow. But I have accoinUnfortunately, neither he nor his friend could af-plished your affair.' Oh, vanity of human purford to pursue the task gratuitously, and it was pose! Man proposes—God disposes. We were accordingly abandoned.

next to hear of him, standing on the deck of the “Still later, he employed himself in collecting burning vessel in the Atlantic, alone with the capmaterials for a History of the Poor—a vast theme; tain, after every other soul had disappeared, surperhaps too vast for a single intellect to grasp. To veying—we feel convinced, with the courage of a him, however, it was a labor of love; and he had lion—the awful twofold death close before him, succeeded in getting together a considerable mass and which he had in all probability deliberately of curious and valuable material pour servir. His preferred to an early relinquishment of his comlast visit to his native country had researches of panions to their fate. It is a fine picture-one this nature for one of its objects; and we are sure that shall ever bang framed with his image in our many persons connected with the charitable insti- | memory; helping us to believe that tutions of Dublin, will recollect the persevering

persevering "_

Lucidas our sorrow is not dead. zeal with which he visited the haunts of poverty, Sunk though he be beneath the watery food, as well as the asylums for its relief, noting down But that he hath mounted to a higher sphereevery thing which might prove afterwards ser

er “Through the dear might of Him that walked the viceable on that suggestive topic.

Waves"

AUTHOR OF “THE FOOL OF QUALITY.” | story in Brooke's family bears 80 heavily on F the interesting papers in the February

the manner of the philosopher, and is so flatter

Jing to the courtesy of the poet, that we should U Dublin University Magazine, we have read

prefer not to write it down. Brooke was at all none with more satisfaction than the biogra

times strangely careless of fame; independent to phical sketch and portrait of one of the most a fault, and more proud than vain; and though distinguished Irishmen of his own or any age, much urged by his friends to humble himself, yet the gifted and pure minded author of Gusta- he could not be induced to 'bow down' to the cap ous Vasa and The Fool of Quality, HENRY of this literary Gesler, much as he regarded his BROOKE. Of his literary fate it might be learning and noble intellect. This dislike of the said that the most unfortunate thing he did Doctor continued during his life; and Boswell was to assert the patriotism of Dean Swift; narrates that on the occasion of a play being read and the most unfortunate thing was to be to him (it was Brooke's Gustavus Vasa) and a left out of Doctor Johnson's " Lives of the circle of friends, on coming to the linePoeto 19 Trials had he to undergo althongh! ". Who rules o'er free men should himself be free! not absolutely driven to the wall, like many the company applauded, but Johnson said it children of "the fatal dowry," and those of

might as well be said Trish complexion, in particular ; but he

««Who drives fat oxen should himself bo fat

who a stupid and inapt verbal sophism, and unworthy bravely bore up against them. Those who

of his great and good mind; but such was often deem that relatives may live more happily mich

PP! his way. In this fashion one might string endless apart, and that friendship is best preserved in

ed in parodies on the line, and equally inapplicable; füll dress, may look at the picture of Henry for

uuress, may look at the picture of neury for example : Brooke, the poet and politician, and Robert “*Who keeps a madhouse shonld himself be mad r Brooke, the painter, with their wives and “Mr. Brooke's elegant and honest mind probchildren, not less than twenty, living together ably had in view that word of Scripture which in perfect peace and amity at Daisy Park, in saith,' he that ruleth his own spirit is better than the flattest part of Kildare, where, in those he who taketh a city'-(Prov. xvi. 32.) dull seats and distant times, a family breeze "By this unhappy difference Brooke lost his might now and then have been looked on in the Johnsonian niche in the temple of biographical Irish sense as a “convenience and a comfort." fame. Yet we must remember that a better fate “ While Henry wrote," says the biographer, was his,'his record is on high, and his spirit “Robert painted, and sold his pictures, and with that Saviour who loved him and made him thus these two loving brothers, having lost

what he was. Faults and inconsistency were in

him, no doubt, but still we know not of any of their property, made a right and manful use

whom it could be so well and suitably said of their intellectual gifts, and supported their

" His life was gentle, and the elements large families by the sweat of their brows."

So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up " In his politics, Brooke was of the old whig And say to all the world, “This was a man.' school ; and, had he lived in 1829, he would probably have been an emancipator. He was a right- BANCROFT'S AMERICAN REVOLUTION.* minded, ardent Irishman in his love for fatherland;

From the Westminster Review hated oppression ; idolized liberty; wrote most I MONG the historians who have attained a keenly against Poyning's infamous laws; mourn A high and deserved reputation in the United ed over the misrule and misgovernment of his States, within the last few years, we are incountry, under the tyranny and rapacity of the clined to yield the first place to George BanStuart dynasty; admired King William, and was croft. His great work on the history of the an exulting Protestant; yet greatly loved his Ro- United States has been brought down from man Catholic neighbors, and would preserve to the commencement of American colonization them their properties, though he disliked their to the opening of the Revolutionary War, to principles, and deprecated their ascendency."

which subject it is understood that he intends Dr. Johnson's feelings respecting Brooke are devoting the three succeeding volumes. His accounted for, not improbably, as follows: researches in the public offices of England,

“ It may be asked why did Dr. Johnson exclude while he was Minister of the United States Brooke from his ‘Lives of the Poets,' where so at the Court of St. James, have brought many names of little note are to be found! In to light a great mass of documentary evi1739, Johnson bad written in Brooke's praise in dence on the antecedents and course of the his Complete Vindication, and twenty years

ars Revolution, which have not yet been made afterwards, when the learned Dr. Campbell show

il public. With his critical sagacity in sifting ed a spirited • Prospectus of a History of Ireland P written by him, to the great moralist, he read it with evidence, bis hound-like instinct in scenting much pleasure and praise, saying that every line every particle of testimony that can lead him breathed the true fire of genius.' It is recorded on the right track, and bis plastic skill in that, on this occasion, Johnson lamented that the moulding the most confused and discordant vanity of Irishmen, even if their patriotism were materials into a compact, symmetrical, and extinct, did not enable Brooke to carry his de- truthful parrative, he cannot fail to present sign into execution.' In Johnson's letter to Charles the story of that great historical drama with O'Conr.or we have his mind on the subject. To & freshness, accuracy, and artistic beauty, Brooke he appears never to have written; there worthy of the immortal eventw which it comhad been an ancient quarrel between them. They Iristory of the American Revolution. By George had argued and disagreed; and the traditionary Bancroft YOL I. Boston, Little & Brown, 1853.

VOL. V.-30. IV.-30

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From the Athensum.

memorates. Mr. Bancroft is now exclusively , in Worcester, Massachusetts. He was born occupied in the completion of this work. He about the beginning of the present century, pursues it with the drudging fidelity of a me- and is consequently a little more than fifty chanical laborer, combined with the enthusi- years of age. He graduated at Harvard Uniasm of a poet and the comprehensive wisdom versity, with distinguished honors, before he of a statesman. With strong social tastes, he had completed his fifteenth year. Soon after gives little time to society. His favorite post he sailed for Europe, and continued his studis in his library, where he labors the live-longies at the German Universities, returning to day in the spirit of the ancient artist, Nulla his own country just before the attainment of dies sine linea. His experience in political his majority. Devoting himself for several and diplomatic life, no less than his rare and years to literary and educational pursuits, he generous culture, and his singular union of acquired a brilliant reputation as a poet, critic, the highest mental faculties, enable us to pre- and essayist; and at a subsequent period, endict with confidence that this work will be tering the career of politics, he has signalized reckoned among the genuine masterpieces of himself by his attachment to democratic historical genius. The volumes of the His- ideas, and the eloquence and force with which tory of the United States already published, on all occasions he has sustained the princiare well known to intelligent readers both in ples with the prevalence of wbich he identiGreat Britain and America. They are dis-fies the progress of humanity. tinguished for their compact brevity of statement, their terse and vigorous diction, their brilliant panoramic views, and the boldness THE further this work proceeds, the more and grace of their sketches of personal char- do we feel that it must take its place as acter. A still higher praise may be awarded an essentially satisfactory history of the to this history for the tenacity with which it United States. Mr. Bancroft is thoroughly clings to the dominant and inspiring idea of American in thought and in feeling, without which it records the development. Whoever ceasing to have those larger views and pobler reads it without comprehending the stand-sympathies which result from cosmopolitan point of the author, is liable to disappoint- rather than from local training. His style is ment. For it must be confessed that as a original and national. It breathes of the mere narrative of events, the preference may mountain and the prairie-of the great lakes be given to the productions of far inferior and wild savannahs of his native land. A authors. But it is to be regarded as an epic strain of wild and forest-like music swells up in prose of the triumph of freedom. This in almost every line. The story is told richly noble principle is considered by Mr. Bancroft and vividly. It has hitherto been thought as an essential attribute of the soul, necessa- by Americans themselves, even more than by rily asserting itself in proportion to the spirit- Europeans, that the story of the English ual supremacy which has been achieved. The colonies presented but a dreary and lifeless history, then, is devoted to the illustration of succession of petty squabbles between the the progress of freedom, as an out-birth of settlers and the crown officers-of unintellithe spontaneous action of the soul. It is in gible persecutions of each other on the this point of view that the remarkable chap- ground of differences of opinion in religion. ters on the Massachusetts Pilgrims, the Penn- Mr. Bancroft has shown how ill founded has sylvania Quakers, and the North American been this impression. In his hands American Indians, were written; and their full pur- history is full of fine effects. Steeped in the port, their profound significance, can only be colors of his imagination, a thousand inciappreciated by readers whose minds possess dents hitherto thought dull appear animated at least the seeds of sympathy and cognate-l and pictorial. Between Hildreth and Banness with this sublime philosophy. The croft the difference is immense. In the chapter on the Quakers is a pregnant psycho-treatment of the former, dates, facts, events logical treatise. Sparkling all over with the are duly stated the criticism is keen, the electric lights of a rich humanitary philoso- chronology indisputable,—but the figures do phy, it invests the theologic visions of Fox not live, the narrative knows no march. and Barclay with a radiance and beauty | The latter is all movement. His men glow which have been ill-preserved in the formal with huinan purposes,—his story sweeps on and lifeless organic systems of their success with the exulting life of a procession. ors. The parallel run by the historian be- ! Yet because Mr. Bancroft contrives to tween William Penn and John Locke is one bring out the more romantic aspects of bis of the most characteristic productions of his theme, it is not to be supposed that he fails peculiar gening. Original, subtle, suggestive, l in that strict regard to truth-truth of cha. crowded with matter and frugal of words, it Iracter as well as of incident-which is the brings out the distinctive features of the spi- historian's first duty, and without which all ritual and mechanical schools in the persons other qualities are useless. Of all American of two of their representative men,' with a writers who have written on the history of breadth and reality which is seldom found in their own country, we would pronounce bim philosophical portraitures. Mr. Bancroft was to be the most conscientious. His former the son of an eminent Unitarian clergyman volumes were remarkable for the amplitude

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