From The Contemporary Review. THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR. [THE earliest impression of "Die Wallfahrt nach Kevlaar" was accompanied by the following remarks on the part of Heine: "The matter of this Poem is wholly my own property. It originated in recollections of my Rhenish home. When a little boy, receiving in the Franciscan monastery at Düsseldorf my first training, learning to spell and to sit still, my place was frequently near another boy who was forever relating to me how his mother once took him to Kevlaar (the accent lies on the first syllable; the place itself is in the neighborhood of Gelder), how she had there offered for him a waxen foot, and how his own lame foot had thereby got healed. Once again I met this boy in the first class of the Gymnasium; and later, when we sat together in the College of Philosophy of Rector Schallmeyer, he laughingly recalled to my memory his miracle tale; adding however, somewhat earnestly, that now he would offer to the mother of God a waxen heart. I heard later on that he had at this time been laboring under an unfortunate love affair, and finally he passed quite out of my sight and my memory. In the year 1819, when I was studying in Bonn, walking on one occasion in the neighborhood of Godesberg on the Rhine, I heard in the distance the well-known Kevlaar songs, of which the best had the recurring refrain: "Gelobt seist du Maria!" On the procession drawing near, I recognized among the pilgrims my schoolfellow, in company of his aged mother. She led him by the hand, he looking very sick and pale."] THE mother stands at the window, The son lies sick in the bed: "Wilt thou not rise up, Wilhelm, To see the procession?" she said. For EIGHT DOLLARS, remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forwarded for a year, free of postage. Kemittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If neither of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. All postmasters are obliged to register letters when requested to do so. Drafts, checks and money-orders should be made payable to the order of LITTELL & Co. Single Numbers of THE LIVING AGE, 18 cents. From Blackwood's Magazine. roof; the former held itself high amid all manners of petty machinations and bour IN THE TIME OF THE COMMONWEALTH: LUCY geois plots. We are obliged to admit, HUTCHINSON ALICE THORNTON. looking at both, that the lines of separation were in no way hard and dry; but that, as happens continually in human affairs, that two factions so closely opposed to each other were at bottom the same, merging on either side into an indefinite mass, which held a little for both, and which connected them by a thousand ties. THERE is no book which has been more appreciated or applauded than the "Life of Colonel Hutchinson," written by his wife. It is one of the many mémoires pour servir, which illustrate so largely that eventful period of history, and one of the few which it is a pleasure to read, opening for us, even in its most anxious strain of narrative, an escape into human Among the women the distinction was nature, which, in the midst of the din and still less complete. The prim Puritan conflict, is full of refreshment and con- dames, in whom fiction has always desolation. Colonel Hutchinson was on the lighted, as a piquant contrast to the side which has always been unpopular | bravery of costume and ornament on the with poetry and romance. He belonged other side, must be sought for among the to the party which are supposed to be burghers, in a class altogether beneath enemies to beauty and to every manifes- that of the ruffling gallants who are so tation of art, the stern Puritans, for whom often supposed to find hiding and safety even their defenders claim no grace or in the impression they made upon the gallant bearing-and was one of those daughters of their captors. Religion who joined in the condemnation of Charles made no such difference in these outward I., a man of prayer-meetings and psalm- details as we are pleased to suppose; and singing. Romance, even when it takes the different ranks of society held to their the most favorable view of such a man, distinctions as stoutly on the one side as presents him to us under a semblance of on the other. Nor was the love of serawkward honesty, too good indeed for his mons, even, confined to one party. The tenets, but rude and rustic at the best, not prayers, the meditations, the devout exfit to hold a place among the accom-ercises that formed a continual accomplished Cavaliers, like Major Bridgenorth | paniment to life, were to be found in the in "Peveril of the Peak." Mrs. Hutch-houses from which a little contingent inson's memoir, however, shows a very marched to join the king, as well as in different phase; and the noble gentleman of her story, a stately figure, something between Chaucer's knight and the later type of Grandison, gives a curious contradiction to all the prejudices and conventional ideas in which we have been bred. It has perhaps served the purpose | plated ces-gens là at the Tuileries in the of literature better to draw a broad line of demarcation between the two parties, and represent the one as appropriating all the graces, while the other had all the piety, of the time. But nothing could be less true. No finer gentleman than John Hutchinson ever added ornament to an age, and no more tender piety than that which flourished in many of the highest Cavalier houses could be found even among the ranks of the martyrs. The latter coexisted with the most boundless depravity, living meekly under the same those that held for the Parliament. The Puritan gentleman "put on a scarlet cloak, very richly laced, such as he usually wore; " the Puritan ladies looked upon Cromwell and his court something as the Faubourg St. Germain contem early days of the last empire-commenting upon the manner in which "his wife and children were setting up for principality, which suited no better with any of them than scarlet on the ape;" although they might admit that, "to speak the truth of himself, he had much natural greatness, and well became the place he had usurped." In short, nothing could have been more aristocratic than the republican, and nowhere was there more psalm-singing or devout sermons than in some houses of the Cavaliers. Mrs. Hutchinson's memoirs were not sad particulars of his death. The sons intended for the public. The compila- and daughters for whom it was written tion of family histories was a fancy of the all vanished without a name, leaving no time. In the leisure of widowhood and track behind them; but the story of John age, when her children were out in the Hutchinson has now become the propworld and her noonday over, a woman erty of the world. The writer, Lucy Apswho had been full of fancy and vivacity | ley, was born of an honorable lineage, all her life without leisure, in the vicis- the daughter of Sir Allen Apsley, a man situdes of an active carcer, for more than of various adventures, who, after two a copy of verses now and then, or a reli- previous marriages, according to the fashgious meditation, jotted down among the ion of the time, fell in love at forty-eight simples in her recipe-book—would amuse with the beautiful young daughter of herself in the ease of her later days by Sir John St. John, a girl of sixteen. It writing down all that happened, if not to was of this marriage, and in so grim a herself, "to your father,” in all the princi- scene as the Tower of London, of which pal chapters of his existence. So Mar- her father was governor, that Lucy was garet of Newcastle, that incomparable born. The parents are described with all princess, wrote a very short sketch of the affectionate panegyric which was genherself, but a prolonged life of her huseral in those days. It would be appropriband, with full description of all his qual-ate now, were such a chronicle made, that ities. In the solitude of Owthorpe, when the filial biographer, clear-sighted and imall was over for her personally in this partial, should set before the reader the world, she who had stood by her hus-defects of his progenitors, and add to band's side through a hundred dangers, the human interest of the story by an who had nursed the prisoners when he analysis of their character, perhaps not was governor of Nottingham, and borne much to their credit; but the fashion of himself company in the Tower, Mrs. former ages was not so, and the Apsleys Hutchinson set herself to make a chroni- are placed before us as scarcely, if at cle of his deeds, his wisdom, his fine all, inferior to Colonel Hutchinson himGrandison presence, his magnanimity; self. "His life was a continual exercise and even of his person, his shape "slen- of faith and charity," his daughter says der, and exactly well-proportioned in all of Sir Allen; while her mother became a parts," his "eyes of lively grey," his sort of guardian angel to the prisoners, "teeth of purest ivory," his admirable serving them in every way, paying the dancing though this he made no prac- expenses of the chemical experiments tice of, the lady allows. The composition with which Sir Walter Raleigh amused of the chronicle in itself affords a pretty himself during his confinement, as well picture. Owthorpe was a handsome as ministering to less eminent persons in house in Nottinghamshire, the home of commoner ways. The daughter of this the family. The great hall, which is de- excellent pair was distinguished from her scribed by the editor, with three large birth by the quickness of her intelligence. chambers for the entertainment of guests At four she read English perfectly; at opening out of it, must have been still and seven "had at one time eight tutors in deserted when the solitary woman several qualities - languages, music, der a command not to grieve at the com- dancing, writing, and needlework; but mon rate of desolate women," she says, my genius was averse from all but iny with pathetic pride and courage went book." But these details are but a prefback in the silence upon her old recollec-ace to the story of her life, which is not tions, so bright, so living, far more real in their morning and noonday glory than that dim gentle evening, and wrote down their early tale of love, the story of his noble manhood, her own struggles and terrors for him, their life in prison, the 66 un her own story. The rest of Lucy Apsley's autobiography is given under another name. While this flower of grace was growing up against the dark background of the Tower, very attentive to sermons and |