Either the thraldom of the passive herd
Stall'd for the shambles at the master's word,
Or the dread overleap of walls that close,
And spears that bristle :-And the last they
chose.

Calm from the hills their children gaze to-day, And breathe the airs to which they forced the way.

Glancing through the lighter narrative poems we find in many new touches an easier hand, ampler and richer illustrations, and the frequent infusion of a deeper sentiment. Much of this is apparent, for example, in these masterly lines:

The world look'd on, and construed, as it still
Interprets all it knows not--into ill.
"Man's home is sacred," flattering proverbs
say;

Yes, if you give the home to men's survey.
But if that sanctum be obscured or screen'd
In every shadow doubt suggests a fiend-
So churchyards seen beneath a daylight sky
Are holy to the clown who saunters by;
But vex his vision by the glimmering light
And straight the holiness expires in fright,
He hears a goblin in the whispering grass,
And cries "Heaven save us !"-at the Parson's
ass!

"Was ever Lord, so newly wed, so cold ?— Poor thing?-forsaken ere a year be told! Doubtless some wanton-whom we know not, true,

But those proud sinners are so wary too!
Oh! for the good old days-one never heard
Of men so shocking under George the Third"
So ran the gossip. With the gossip came
The brood it hatch'd-consolers to the dame.
The soft and wily wooers, who begin
Through sliding pity, the smooth ways to sin.
My lord is absent at the great debate,
Go, soothe his lady's unprotected state-
Go, gallant,-go, and wish the cruel Heaven
To thee such virtue, now so wrong'd, had giv-

en !

"The new Timon" (which has also been strengthened and improved throughout), a new and charming little fanciful story from one of the fabliaux, and several spirited lyrics, complete the contents of the volume.

The translation of Schiller's Poems and Ballads forms a volume uniform with the series of Sir E. B. Lytton's collected poetry, sume) it has not been formally included. in which (for reasons of copyright we preWith the great and varied merits of this translation the public is familiar. Yet it may be advisable to point out that in that case, as in every case of the translation into English of a complete body of lyrics from another language, we must be content with but a portion of the impression out of which the originals sprung, though we ought to be more than ordinary content to receive it from a volume so delightful as this. A whole play or a long poem may often be translated very fairly, but the peculiar genius of a nation exercises such despotic sway over its lyric forms of utterance, that it is only practicable here and there to find any short work of a really great poet which can be transferred without considerable change of feeling into the language of another nation.

This may be called unsound doctrine. It may be said that a great poet speaks not to his nation but to his race. Love, honor, religion, are themes for all mankind; and so they are. But subtle differences of complexion which exist between the minds of nations, distinctive habits of the intellect, find a most accurate exponent in the delicate expression of naïve emotion or of sentiment-we use the two words here in the sense which Schiller has applied to them. They become in fact. distinctive crystals when run into the form of lyric. One substance crystallizes into prisms, one into squares, and it is scarcely more difficult to break up one of the prisms and reconstruct it into an artificial square, than to break up a true German song and reconstruct it into English. We call Goethe many-sided, but his songs are even more than usually ruddy with the national complexion. What is there, for example, that could give to an English mind the German appreciation of that delicate little gem with the refrain

Roslein, Roslein, Roslein roth,
Roslein auf der Heide.

Let us also say, however, that such change between the English and the German as the student of the original will find in Sir Edward Lytton's volume, was necessary and inevitable. If the true German light and shades of feeling and expression could even have been preserved, they very often would have looked absurd in English words, because they would have looked strange. And having said this we ought to add that for many reasons Schiller's lesser poems are, at least in a much greater degree than is usual with such a poet, adapted for translation. Their pure and lofty feeling rises high and grand above those shadows of the clouds, beautiful but unsubstantial, about which we have been speaking. The simplicity of Schiller's diction, and the prevalence of a narrative form, renders it easy at any rate to reproduce all his main outlines accurately; and thus a good English version. of his lyrics, as we see by the example of Sir E. B. Lytton's, forms a very welcome and delightful volume.

We quoted largely from it when first published. We shall now borrow some epigrams from Votive Tablets, which appear to us for the most part extremely happy examples of close and easy translation.

The good and the Beautiful. (Zweierlei Wirkungsarten.) Achieve the Good, and godlike plants, possest Already by mankind, thou nourishest ;

Intellect can repeat what's been fulfill'd,
And, aping Nature, as she buildeth-build;
O'er Nature's base can haughty Reason dare
To pile its lofty castle-in the air.
But only thine, O Genius, is the charge,
In Nature's kingdom Nature to enlarge !
The Imitator.

Good out of good-that art is known to all-
But Genius from the bad the good can call;
Thou, Mimic, turn'st the same old substance
o'er,

And seek'st to fashion what was form'd before; Ev'n that to Genius from thy hand escapes, And lends but matter to the mind that shapes.

Science.

To some she is the Goddess great, to some the milch-cow of the field;

Their care is but to calculate-what butter she will yield.

Kant and his Commentators. How many starvelings one rich man can nourish! When monarchs build, the rubbish-carriers flourish.

This translation has our best wishes. With infinite poetic feeling and beauty, and preciate, Sir. E. B. Lytton has provided for at the cost of labor which few will easily apthe English reader a book that will long remain to give him pleasure.

A SMOKING COLLECTION.-The sale of the remarkable collection of arms of the late Marshal Oudinot, at the chateau de Jeand'heurs, in the commune of Isle-en-Rigault, department of the Meuse, has just taken place. With the exception of the National Museum of Artillery, there was no collection in all France to be compared to it. In addition to a number of other rare and valuable things, the late marshal had formed a collection of pipes for smoking, of all sorts

and all countries, from the humblest of clay to those splendidly ornamented as works of art. In it was the pipe which John Sobieski, King of Poland, smoked on the morning of the day on which he rescued Vienna from the attack of the Turks. This pipe Sobieski gave to the municipality of Vienna, and the municipality presented it to the marshal when he was governor of that city on its being captured by Napoleon.

SOME characters are a puzzle to history, and none is more so than that of Robespierre. According to popular belief, this personage was a blood-thirsty monster, a vulgar tyrant, who committed the most unheard-of enormities, with the basely selfish object of raising himself to supreme power-of becoming the Cromwell of the Revolution. Considering that Robespierre was for five years 1789 to 1794-a prime leader in the political movements in France; that for a length of time he was personally concerned in sending a hundred and fifty heads to the scaffold per diem; and that the Reign of Terror ceased immediately on his overthrow-it is not surprising that his character is associated with all that is villainous and detestable. Nevertheless, as the obscurities of the great revolutionary drama clear up, a strange suspicion begins to be entertained, that the popular legend respecting Robespierre is, in a considerable degree, fallacious; nay, it is almost thought that this man was, in reality, a most kind-hearted, simple, unambitious, and welldisposed individual-a person who, to say the least of it, deeply deplored the horrors in which considerations of duty had unhappily involved him. To attempt an unravelment of these contradictions, let us call up the phantom of this mysterious personage, and subject him to review.

To understand Robespierre, it is necessary to understand the French Revolution. The proximate cause of that terrible convulsion was, as is well known, an utter disorder in all the functions of the state, and more particularly in the finances, equivalent to national bankruptcy. That matters might have been substantially patched up by judicious statesmanship, no one doubts; but that a catastrophe, sooner or later, was unavoidable, seems to be equally certain. The mind of France was rotten; the principles of society were undermined. As regards religion, there was a universal scepticism, of which the best VOL. XXV. NO. IV.

literature of the day was the exponent; but this unbelief was greatly strengthened by the scandalous abuses in the ecclesiastical system. It required no depth of genius to point out that the great principles of brotherly love, humility, equality, liberty, promulgated as part and parcel of the Christian dispensation eighteen centuries previously, had no practical efficacy so far as France was concerned. Instead of equality before God and the law, the humbler classes were feudal serfs, without any appeal from the cruel oppressions to which they were exposed. In the midst of gloom, Rousseau's vague declamations on the rights of man fell like a ray of light, A spark was communicated, which kindled a flame in the bosoms of the more thoughtful and enthusiastic. An astonishing impulse was almost at once given to investigation. The philosopher had his adherents all over France. Viewed as a species of prophet, he was, properly speaking, a madman, who in his ravings had glanced on the truth, but only glanced. Among men of sense, his ornate declamations concerning nature and reason would have excited little more attention than that which is usually given to poetic and speculative fancies.

Amidst an impulsive and lively people, unaccustomed to the practical consideration and treatment of abuses, there arose a cry to destroy, root up; to sweep away all preferences and privileges; to bring down the haughty, and raise the depressed; to let all men be free and equal, all men being brothers. Such is the origin of the three words-liberty, equality, and fraternity, which were caught up as the charter of social intercourse. It is for ever to be regretted that this explosion of sentiment was so utterly destructive in its character; for therein has it inflicted immense wrong on what is abstractedly true and beautiful. At first, as will be remembered, the revolutionists did not aim at establishing a republic, but that form of government neces

35

sarily grew out of their hallucinations. Without pausing to consider that a nation of emancipated serfs were unprepared to take on themselves the duties of an enlightened population, the plunge was unhesitatingly made.

At this comparatively distant day, even with all the aids of the recording press, we can form no adequate idea of the fervor with which this great social overthrow was set about and accomplished. The best minds in France were in a state of ecstasy, bordering on delirium. A vast future of human happiness seemed to dawn. Tyranny, force, fraud, all the bad passions, were to disappear under the beneficent approach of Reason. Among the enthusiasts who rushed into this marvellous frenzy, was Maximilian Robes pierre. It is said by his biographers, that Robespierre was of English or Scotch origin: we have seen an accoont which traced him to a family in the north, of not a dissimilar name. His father, at all events, was an advocate at Arras, in French Flanders, and here Maximilian was born in 1759. Bred to the law, he was sent as a representative to the States-General in 1789, and from this moment he entered on his career, and Paris was his home. At his outset, he made no impression, and scarcely excited public notice. His manners were singularly reserved, and his habits austere. The man lived within himself. Brooding over the works of Rousseau, he indulged in the dream of renovating the moral world. Like Mohammed contriving the dogmas of a new religion, Robespierre spent days in solitude, pondering on his destiny. To many of the revolutionary leaders, the struggle going on was merely a political drama, with a Convention for the dénouement. To Robespierre, it was a philosophical problem; all his thoughts aimed at the ideal-at the apotheosis of human nature.

Let us take a look at his personal appearance. Visionaries are usually slovens. They despise fashions, and imagine that dirtiness is an attribute of genius. To do the honorable member for Artois justice, he was above this affectation. Small and neat in person, he always appeared in public tastefully dressed, according to the fashion of the period-hair well combed back, frizzled, and powdered; copious frills at the breast and wrists; a stainless white waistcoat; light-blue coat, with metal buttons; the sash of a representative tied round his waist; light-colored breeches, white stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. Such was his ordinary costume; and if we stick a rose in his button-hole, or place a

nosegay in his hand, we shall have a tolerable idea of his whole equipment. It is said he sometimes appeared in top boots, which is not improbable; for this kind of boot had become fashionable among the republicans, from a notion that as top-boots were worn by gentlemen in England, they were allied to constitutional government. Robespierre's features were sharp, and enlivened by bright and deeply-sunk blue eyes. There was usually a gravity and intense thoughtfulness in his countenance, which conveyed an idea of his being thoroughly in earnest. Yet, his address was not unpleasing. Unlike modern French politicians, his face was always smooth, with no vestige of beard or whiskers. Altogether, therefore, he may be said to have been a well-dressed, gentlemanly man, animated with proper self-respect, and having no wish to court vulgar applause by neglecting the decencies of polite society.

Before entering on his public career in Paris, Robespierre had probably formed his plans, in which, at least to outward appearance, there was an entire negation of self. A stern incorruptibility seemed the basis of his character; and it is quite true that no offers from the court, no overtures from associates, had power to tempt him. There was only one way by which he could sustain a high-souled independence, and that was the course adopted in like circumstances by Andrew Marvel-simple wants, rigorous economy, a disregard of fine company, an avoidance of expensive habits. Now, this is the curious thing in Robespierre's history. Perhaps there was a tinge of pride in his living a life of indigence; but in fairness it is entitled to be called an honest pride, when we consider that the means of profusion were within his reach. On his arrival in Paris, he procured a humble lodging in the Marais, a populous district in the north-eastern faubourgs; but it being represented to him some time afterwards, that, as a public man, it was unsafe to expose himself in a long walk daily to and from this obscure residence, he removed to a house in the Rue St. Honoré, now marked No. 396, opposite the Church of the Assumption. Here he found a lodg ing with M. Duplay, a respectable but humble cabinet-maker, who had become attached to the principles of the Revolution; and here he was joined by his brother, who played an inferior part in public affairs, and is known in history as "the Younger Robespierre." The selection of this dwelling seems to have fallen in with Robespierre's notions of economy; and it suited his limited patri