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individual, enabled me fully to appreciate the obliging disposition of the fourteenth class nobles. At a later period, being employed on a scientific mission by the government, 1 held successively the rank of major, lieutenant-colonel, and colonel; and then I had nothing to complain of'; the posting-clerks, and the other employés received me with all the politeness imaginable. I never had to wait for horses, and as the title with which I was decked authorized me to distribute a few cuts of the whip with impunity, my orders were fulfilled with quite magical promptitude.

"Under such a system, the aristocracy would increase without end in a free country. But it is not so in Russia, where the number of those who can arrive at a grade is extremely limited, the vast majority of the population being slaves. Thus the hereditary and personal nobility comprise no more than 563,653 males; though all free-born Russians enter the military or civil service, and remain at their posts as long as possible; for once they have returned into mere private life they sink into mere oblivion. From the moment he has put on plain clothes, the most deserving functionary is exposed to the vexations of the lowest subalterns, who then omit no opportunity of lording over their former superior.

"The tzars have shown no less dexterity than the kings of France in their struggles against the aristocracy, and they have been much more favored by circumstances. We see the Russian sovereigns bent, like Louis XI., on prostrating the great feudatories of the realm; but there was this difference between their respective tasks, that the French nobles could bring armies into the field, and often did so, whereas the Russian nobles can only counteract the power of their ruler by secret conspiracies, and will never succeed in stirring up their peasants against the imperial authority.

"What may we conclude are the destinies in store for the Russian nobility, and what part will it play in the future history of the country? It seems to us to possess little inherent vigor and vitality, and we doubt that a radical regeneration of the empire is ever to be expected at its hands. The influence of Europe has been fatal to it. It has sought to assimilate itself too rapidly with our modern civilization, and to place itself too rapidly on a level with the nations of the west. Its efforts have necessarily produced only corruption, demoralization, and a factitious, superficial civilization, which, by bastardizing the country, has deprived it of whatever natural strength it once possessed."

law to warrant any decision he may pronounce, be it ever so absurd or iniquitous. It is but fair, however, to own that the quirks and subtleties of legal casuistry may sometimes by accident help to forward the righteous cause, as in the following curious instance:

"Such social institutions have fatally contributed to excite a most decided antipathy between the old and the new aristocracy; and is the rule, and the exceptions, if any there Every man in Russia has his price that the emperor naturally accords his preference and his favors to those who owe him every be, are pitied and despised as instances of thing, and from whom he has nothing to fear. eccentric folly. It will easily be imagined In this way the new nobles have insensibly what the administration of justice must be supplanted the old boyars. But their places in a country where bribes avowedly constiand pecuniary gains naturally attach them to tute the chief part of the income of every the established government, and consequently office under the crown, and where the laws, they are quite devoid of all revolutionary ten-i. e. the imperial ukases, are so multitudidencies. Equally disliked by the old aristocracy whom they have supplanted, and by the nous and contradictory, that the judge can peasants whom they oppress, they are, more- always avail himself of the strict letter of the over, too few in numbers to be able to act by themselves; and, in addition to this, the high importance attached to the distinctions of rank, prevents all real union or sympathy between the members of this branch of Russian society. The tzar, who perfectly understands the character of this body, is fully aware of its venality and corruption; and if he honors it with his special favor, this is only because he finds in it a more absolute and blind submission than in "In Alexander's reign the Jesuits bad made the old aristocracy, whose ambitious yearnings themselves all-powerful in some parts of Poafter their ancient prerogatives cannot but be land. A rich landowner and possessor of six at variance with the imperial will. As for any thousand peasants at Poltz, the Jesuit headrevolutions which could possibly arise out of quarters, was so wrought on by the artful assithe discontent of this latter order, we may be duities of the society, that he bequeathed his assured they will never be directed against the whole fortune to it at his death, with this stipupolitical and moral system of the country; they lation, that the Jesuits should bring up his only will always be, as they have always been, aim- son, and afterwards give him whatever portion ed solely against the individual at the head of of the inheritance they should choose. When the government. Conspiracies of this kind are the young man had reached the age of twenty, the only ones now possible in Russia, and what the Jesuits bestowed on him three hundred proves this fact is, the impotence of that resent-peasants. He protested vehemently against ment the tzars have provoked on the part of their usurpation, and began a suit against the the old aristocracy, whenever they have touch-society; but his father's will seemed clear and ed on the question of emancipating the serfs. explicit, and after having consumed all his lit

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the fortune, he found his claims disowned by every tribunal in the empire, including even the general assembly of the senate. In this seemingly hopeless extremity he applied to a certain attorney in St. Petersburg, famous for his inexhaustible fertility of mind in matters of cunning and chicanery. After having perused the will and the documents connected with the suit, the lawyer said to his client, Your business is done; if you will promise me ten thousand rubles I will undertake to procure an imperial ukase reinstating you in possession of all your father's property.' The young man readily agreed to the bargain, and in eight days afterwards he was master of his patrimony. The decision which led to this singular result rested solely on the interpretation of the phrase they shall give him what ver portion they shall choose, which plainly meant, as the lawyer maintained, that the young man was entitled exclusively to such portion as the Jesuits chose, i. e., to that which they chose and retamed for themselves. The emperor admitted this curious explanation; the son became proprietor of 5700 peasants, and the Jesus were obliged to content themselves with the 300 they had bestowed on their ward in the first instance. Assuredly the most adroit cadi in Turkey could not have decided the case better."

In our author's account of Astrakhan we meet with the following highly interesting and novel fact and comment:

type that perpetuates itself with most energy, and most obstinately resists the influence of foreign admixture continued through a long series of generations. We have found it in all its originality among the Cossacks, the Taars, and every other people dwelling in the vicinity of the Kalmucks. Is it not then a most curious fact to see it vanish immediately under the influence of the Hindu blood, and produce instead of itself a thoroughly Caucasian type? Might we not thence conclude that the Caucasian is not a primitive type, as hitherto supposed, but that it is simply the result of a mixture, the two elements of which we must seek for in Central Asia, in those mysterious regions of the great Tibetian chain which have so much occupied the inventive genius of ancient and modern writers?”

We would fain continue our desultory extracts from this an using and instructive work; especially, we should like to dwell on the succinct and luminous sketch of the history of the war waged by Russia against the brave mountaineers of Circassia; but space fail us. We must bid a reluctant farewell to our authors, hoping that the appearance of their promised work on Moldavia will soon afford us an opportunity of conversing with them again.

From Frazer's Magazine.

"The Indians, who were formerly rather numerous in this city, have long since abandoned the trade for which they frequented it. and none of them remain but a few priests who are detained by interminable law-suits. But from the old intercourse between the Hindus and the Kalmuck women has sprung a half-breed now numbering several hundred individuals, improperly designated Tatars. The mixed blood of these two essentially Asi-IN A LEITER TO THE REV. FRANCI SYLVESTER AT

A BRTHER OF THE RESS ON THE HIS.
TORY OF A LITERARY MAN, LAMAN
BIANCHAD, AND THE CHANCES OF
THE LITERARY PROFESSION.

ROME, FROM MICHAEL ANGELO TITMARSH, ESQ.
London Feb. 20, 1846.

atic races has produced a type closely resembling that of the European nations. It exhibits neither the oblique eyes of the Kalmucks, nor the bronzed skin of the Indians: and noMY DEAR SIR,-Our good friend and thing in the character or habits of the descend- patron, the publisher of this Magazine, bas ants of these two races indicates a relationship brought me your message from Rome, and with either stock. In striking contrast with your demand to hear news from the other the apathy and indolence of the population great city of the world. As the forty colamong which they live, these half-breeds exumns of the Times cannot satisfy your revhibit in all they do the activity and perse-erence's craving, and the details of the real verance of the men of the north. They serve as porters, wagoners, or sailors, as occasion great revolution of Eugland which is actumay require, and shrink from no kind of em-ally going on do not sufficiently interest you, ployment however laborious. Their white send you a page or two of random specufelt hats, with broad brims and pointed conical crowns, their tall figures, and bold, cheerfu countenances, give them a considerable de

gree of resemblance to the Spanish muleteers

"This result of the crossing of two races both so sharply defined, is extremely remarkable, and cannot but interest ethnologists. The Mongol is perhaps above all others the

lations upon matters connected with the literary profession; they were suggested by reading the works and the biography of a literary friend of ours, lately deceased, and or whom every person who knew him had the warmest and sincerest regard. And no wonder. It was impossible to help trusting

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a man so thoroughly generous and honest, and loving one who was so perfectly gay, gentle, and amiable.

People in the big-book interest, too, cry out against the fashion of fugitive literature, and no wonder. For instance,—

A man can't enjoy every thing in the The Times gave an extract the other day world; but what delightful gifts and quali- from a work by one Doctor Carus, physities are these to have! Not having known cian to the King of Saxony, who attended Blanchard as intimately as some others did, his royal master on his recent visit to Engyet, I take it, he had in his life as much land, and has written a book concerning pleasure as falls to most men; the kindest the journey. Among other London lions, friends, the most affectionate family, a heart the illustrious traveller condescended to to enjoy both; and a career not undistin-visit one of the largest and most remarkaguished, which I hold to be the smallest ble, certainly, of metropolitan roarers-the matter of all. But we have a cowardly dis- Times printing-office; of which, the Doctor, like, or compassion for, the fact of a man in his capacity of a man of science, gives dying poor. Such a one is rich, bilious, an exceedingly bad, stupid, and blundering and a curmudgeon, without heart or sto-account. mach to enjoy his money, and we set him Carus was struck with "disgust," he down as respectable: another is morose or says, at the prodigious size of the paper, passionate, his whole view of life seen and at the thought which suggested itself blood-shot through passion, or jaundiced to his mind from this enormity. There was through moroseness: or he is a fool who can't as much printed every day as would fill a see, or feel, or enjoy any thing at all, with thick volume. It required ten years of no ear for music, no eye for beauty, no life to a philosopher to write a volume. heart for love, with nothing except money: The issuing of these daily tomes was unfair we meet such people every day, and respect upon philosophers, who were put out of the them somehow. That donkey browses over market; and unfair on the public, who were five thousand acres; that madman's bank-made to receive (and, worse still, to get a ers come bowing him out to his carriage. relish for) crude daily speculations, and You feel secretly pleased at shooting over frivolous ephemeral news, where they ought the acres, or driving in the carriage. At to be fed and educated upon stronger and any rate, nobody thinks of compassionating simpler diet. their owners. We are a race of flunkies, We have heard this outcry a hundred and keep our pity for the poor. times from the big-wig body. The world I don't mean to affix the plush personally gives up a lamentable portion of its time to upon the kind and distinguished gentleman and writer who has written Blanchard's Memoir; but it seems to me that it is couched in much too despondent a strain; that the lot of the hero of the little story was by no means deplorable; and that there is not the least call, at present, to be holding up literary men as martyrs. Even that prevailing sentiment which regrets that means should not be provided for giving Arguing for liberty of conscience against them leisure for enabling them to perfect any authority, however great-against Docgreat works in retirement, that they should tor Arnold himself, who seems to me to be waste away their strength with fugitive lit-the greatest, wisest, and best of men, that erature, &c., I hold to be often uncalled for and dangerous. I believe, if most men of letters were to be pensioned, I am sorry to say I believe they wouldn't work at all; and of others, that the labor which is to answer the calls of the day is the one quite best suited to their genius. Suppose Sir Robert Peel were to write to you, and, enclosing a cheque for 20,000l., instruct you to pension any fifty deserving authors, so that they might have leisure to retire and write great" works, on whom would you fix ? VOL. VIII.-No. I.

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Heeting literature; authors who might be occupied upon great works fritter away their lives in producing endless hasty sketches. Kind, wise, and good Dr. Arnold deplored the fatal sympathy which the Pickwick Papers had created among the boys of his school and it is a fact that Punch is as regularly read among the boys at Eton as the Latin Grammar.

has appeared for eighteen hundred years; let us take a stand at once, and ask, Why should not the day have its literature? Why should not authors make light sketches? Why should not the public be amused daily or frequently by kindly fictions? It is well and just for Arnold to object. Light stories of Jingle and Tupman, and Sam Weller quips and cranks, must have come with but a bad grace before that pure and lofty soul. The trivial and familiar are out of place there; the harmless joker must walk away

abashed from such a presence, as he would contributes a police report; that, an articls be silent and hushed in a cathedral. But containing some downright information all the world is not made of that angelic this one, as an editor, abuses Sir Robert stuff. From his very height and sublimity Peel, or lauds Lord John Russell, or vice of virtue he could but look down and de- versâ; writing to a certain class who coinplore the ways of small men beneath him. cide in his views, or are interested by the I mean, seriously, that I think the man was question which he moots. The literary of so august and sublime a nature, that he character, let us hope or admit, writes quite was not a fair judge of us, or of the ways of honestly; but no man supposes he would the generality of mankind. One has seen work perpetually but for money. And as a delicate person sicken and faint at the for immortality, it is quite beside the barsmell of a flower, it does not follow that the gain. Is it reasonable to look for it, or to flower was not sweet and wholesome in pretend that you are actuated by a desire to consequence; and I hold that laughing and attain it? Of all the quill-drivers, how honest story-books are good, against all the many have ever drawn that prodigious doctors. prize? Is it fair even to ask that many

Laughing is not the highest occupation should? Out of a regard for poor dear posof a man, very certainly; or the power of terity and men of letters to come, let us be creating it the height of genius. I am not glad that the great immortality number going to argue for that. No more is the comes up so rarely. Mankind would have blacking of boots the greatest occupation. no time otherwise, and would be so gorged But it is done, and well and honestly, by with old masterpieces, that they could not persons ordained to that calling in life, who occupy themselves with new, and future arrogate to themselves (if they are straight- literary men would have no chance of a forward and worthy shoe-blacks) no espe- livelihood. cial rank or privilege on account of their calling; and not considering boot-brushing the greatest effort of earthly genius, nevertheless select their Day and Martin, or Warren, to the best of their judgment; polish their upperleathers as well as they can; satisfy their patrons; and earn their fair wage.

To do your work honestly, to amuse and instruct your reader of to-day, to die when your time comes, and go hence with as clean a breast as may be; may these be all yours and ours, by God's will. Let us be content with our status as literary craftsmen, telling the truth as far as may be, hitting no foul blow, condescending to no serI have chosen the unpolite shoe-black vile puffery, filling not a very lofty, but a comparison, not out of disrespect to the manly and honorable part. Nobody says trade of literature; but it is as good a craft that Dr. Locock is wasting his time because as any other to select. In some way or he rolls about daily in his carriage, and other, for daily bread and hire, almost all passes hours with the nobility and gentry, men are laboring daily. Without necessity his patients, instead of being in his study they would not work at all, or very little, wrapt up in transcendental medical mediprobably. In some instances you reaptation. Nobody accuses Sir Fitzroy Kelly Reputation along with Profit from your la- of neglecting his genius because he will bor, but Bread, in the main, is the incentive. take any body's brief, and argue it in court Do not let us try to blink this fact, or ima- for money, when he might sit in chambers gine that the men of the press are working with his oak sported, and give up his soul for their honor and glory, or go onward im- to investigations of the nature, history, and pelled by an irresistible afflatus of genius. improvement of law. There is no question If only men of genius were to write, Lord but that either of these eminent persons, by help us! how many books would there be? profound study, might increase their knowHow many people are there even capable ledge in certain branches of their profesof appreciating genius? Is Mr. Wakley's sion; but in the meanwhile the practical or Mr. Hume's opinion about poetry worth part must go on-causes come on for hearmuch? As much as that of millions of ing, and ladies lie in, and some one must people in this honest, stupid empire; and be there. The commodities in which the they have a right to have books supplied for them as well as the most polished and accomplished critics have. The literary man gets his bread by providing goods suited to the consumption of these. This man of letters

lawyer and the doctor deal are absolutely required by the public, and liberally paid for; every day, too, the public requires more literary handicraft done; the practitioner in that trade gets a better pay and

place. In another century, very likely, his work will be so necessary to the people, and his market so good, that his prices will double and treble; his social rank rise; he will be getting what they call "honors," and dying in the bosom of the genteel. Our calling is only sneered at because it is not well paid. The world has no other criterion for respectability. In Heaven's name, what made people talk of setting up a statue to Sir William Follett? What had he done? He had made 300,0007. What has George IV. done that he, too, is to have a brazen image! He was an exemplar of no greatness, no good quality, no duty in life; but a type of magnificence, of beautiful coats, carpets, and gigs, turtle-soup, chandeliers, cream-colored horses, and delicious Maraschino,-all these good things he expressed and represented: and the world, respecting them beyond all others, raised statues to "the first gentleman in Europe." Directly the men of letters get rich, they will come in for their share of honor too; and a future writer in this miscellany may be getting ten guineas where we get one, and dancing at Buckingham Palace while you and your humble servant, dear Padre Francesco, are glad to smoke our pipes in quiet over the sanded floor of the little D

But the happy homme de lettres, whom I imagine in futurity kicking his heels vis-à-vis to a duchess in some fandango at the court of her majesty's grandchildren, will be in reality no better or honester, or more really near fame, than the quill-driver of the present day, with his doubtful position and small gains. Fame, that guerdon of high genius, comes quite independent of Berkeley Square, and is a republican institution. Look around to our own day among the holders of the pen begin (without naming names, for that is odious) and count on your fingers those whom you will back in the race for immortality. How many fingers have you that are left untold? It is an invidious question. Alas! dear, and dear * *, and dear † †, you who think you are safe, there is futurity, and limbo, and blackness for you, beloved friends! Cras ingens iterabimus æquor: there's no use denying it, or shirking the fact; in we must go, and disappear for ever and ever.

And after all, what is this Reputation, the cant of our trade, the goal that every scribbling penny-a-liner demurely pretends that he is hunting after? Why should we get it? Why can't we do without it? We

only fancy we want it. When people say of such and such a man who is dead, "He neglected his talents; he frittered away in fugitive publications time and genius, which might have led to the production of a great work;" this is the gist of Sir Bulwer Lytton's kind and affecting biographical notice of our dear friend and comrade Laman Blanchard, who passed away so melancliolily last year.

I don't know any thing more dissatisfactory and absurd than that insane test of friendship which has been set up by some literary men, viz. admiration of their works. Say that this picture is bad, or that poem poor, or that article stupid, and there are certain authors and artists among us who set you down as an enemy forthwith, or look upon you as a faux-frère. What is there in common with the friend and his work of art? The picture or article once done and handed over to the public, is the latter's property, not the author's, and to be estimated according to its honest value; and so, and without malice, I question Sir Bulwer Lytton's statement about Blanchard, viz. that he would have been likely to produce with leisure, and under favorable circumstances, a work of the highest class. I think his education and habits, his quick, easy manner, his sparkling, hidden fun, constant tenderness and brilliant good humor, were best employed as they were. At any rate, he had a duty, much more imperative upon him than the preparation of questionable great works,-to get his family their dinner. A man must be a very great man, indeed, before he can neglect this precaution.

His three volumes of essays, pleasant and often brilliant as they are, give no idea of the powers of the author, or even of his natural manner, which, as I think, was a thousand times more agreeable. He was like the good little child in the fairy tale, his mouth dropped out all sorts of diamonds and rubies. His wit, which was always playing and frisking about the company, had the wonderful knack of never hurting any body. He had the most singular art of discovering good qualities in people; in discoursing of which the kindly little fellow used to glow and kindle up, and emphasize with the most charming energy. Goodnatured actions of others, good jokes, favorite verses of friends, he would bring out fondly, whenever they met, or there was question of them; and he used to toss and dandle their sayings or doings about, and

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