"For certain!" he replied, with a slight smile. "I have a knack--of

course for Jacobins and Bonapartists only--when I thrust _en

quarte_, to draw out the sword by an imperceptible movement of the

hand, _en tierce_, or _vice versâ_, according to circumstances; and

thus the blade turns in the wound--_and that kills_; for the lung is

injured, and mortification is sure to follow."

On returning to my hotel, where L---- also was staying, I met the

physician, who had just visited him. He gave up all hope. The

captain spoke truly, for the slight movement of the hand and the

turn of the blade had accomplished their aim, and the lung was

injured beyond the power of cure. The next morning early, L----

died. I went to the captain, who was returning home with the abbé.

"The abbé has just been to read a mass for him," he said; "it is a

benefit which, on such occasions, I am willing he should

enjoy--more, however, from friendship for him, than out of pity for

the accursed soul of a Jacobin, which in my eyes is worth less than

a dog's! But walk in, sir."

The picture, a wonderfully lovely maidenly face, with rich curls

falling around it, and in the costume of the last ten years of the

preceding century, was now unvailed. A good breakfast, like that of

yesterday, stood on the table. With a moistened eye, and, turning to

the portrait, he said: "Thérèse, to thy memory!" and emptied his

glass at a draught. Surprised and moved, I quitted the strange man.

On the stairs of the hotel I met the coffin, which was just being

carried up for L----; and I thought to myself: "Poor Clotilde! you

will not be able to weep over his grave."

Monthly Record of Current Events.

THE UNITED STATES.

Our last Monthly Record reported the proceedings of the Democratic

National Convention held at Baltimore on the 1st of June. On the

16th of the same month, the Whig National Convention met at the same

place, and was permanently organized by the election of Hon. John G.

Chapman, of Maryland, President, with thirty-one Vice-Presidents and

thirteen Secretaries. Two days were occupied in preliminary

business, part of which was the investigation of the right to

several contested seats from the States of Vermont and New York. On

the third day, a committee, consisting of one from each State,

selected by the delegation thereof, was appointed to report a series

of resolutions for the action of the Convention. The resolutions

were reported at the ensuing session, on the same day, by Hon.

George Ashmun, of Massachusetts. They set forth that the Government

of the United States is one of limited powers, all powers not

expressly granted, or necessarily implied by the Constitution, being

reserved to the States or the people;--that while struggling freedom

every where has the warmest sympathy of the Whig party, our true

mission as a Republic is not to propagate our opinions, or to impose

on other countries our form of government by artifice or force, but

to teach by our example, and to show by our success, moderation, and

justice, the blessings of self-government and the advantage of free

institutions;--that revenue ought to be raised by duties on imports

laid with a just discrimination, whereby suitable encouragement may

be afforded to American Industry;--that Congress has power to open

and repair harbors, and remove obstructions from navigable rivers,

whenever such improvements are necessary for the common defense and

for the protection and facility of commerce with foreign nations or

among the States;--that the Compromise acts, including the fugitive

slave law, are received and acquiesced in as a final settlement, in

principle and substance, of the dangerous and exciting questions

which they embrace; that the Whig party will maintain them, and

insist upon their strict enforcement until time and experience shall

demonstrate the necessity of further legislation, to guard against

their evasion or abuse, not impairing their present efficiency; and

that all further agitation of the questions thus settled is

deprecated as dangerous to our peace; and all efforts to continue or

renew that agitation, whenever, wherever, or however the attempt may

be made, will be discountenanced.--These resolutions, after some

discussion, were adopted by a vote of 227 yeas, and 66 nays.

Ballotings for a Presidential candidate were then commenced, and

continued until Monday, the fifth day of the session. There were 396

electoral votes represented in Convention, which made 149 (a

majority) essential to a choice. Upon the first ballot, President

Fillmore received 133, General Scott 131, and Daniel Webster 29

votes; and for fifty ballotings this was nearly the relative number

of votes received by each. On the fifty-third ballot, General Scott

receiving 159 votes, Mr. Fillmore 112, and Mr. Webster 21, the

former was declared to have been duly nominated, and that nomination

was made unanimous. Hon. WILLIAM A. GRAHAM, of North Carolina, was

then nominated on the second ballot for Vice-President; and

resolutions were adopted complimentary to Mr. Fillmore and Mr.

Webster; after which the Convention adjourned.

In reply to a communication from the President of the Convention,

apprising him of his nomination, General Scott has written a letter,

dated June 24th, declaring that he "accepts it with the resolutions

annexed." He adds, that if elected, he shall recommend or approve of

"such measures as shall secure an early settlement of the public

domain favorable to actual settlers, but consistent, nevertheless,

with a due regard to the equal rights of the whole American people

in that vast national inheritance;"--and also of an amendment to our

Naturalization laws, "giving to all foreigners the right of

citizenship who shall faithfully serve, in time of war, one year on

board of our public ships, or in our land-forces, regular or

volunteer, on their receiving an honorable discharge from the

service." He adds, that he should not tolerate any sedition,

disorder, faction, or resistance to the law or the Union on any

pretext, in any part of the land; and that his leading aim would be

"to advance the greatness and happiness of this Republic, and thus

to cherish and encourage the cause of constitutional liberty

throughout the world." Mr. Graham also accepted his nomination, with

a cordial approval of the declarations made in the resolutions

adopted by the Convention.----Since the adjournment of the

Convention, a letter from President Fillmore, addressed to that

body, has been published. It was intrusted to the care of Mr.

Babcock, the delegate in Convention from the Erie, N. Y., district,

in which Mr. Fillmore resides; and he was authorized to present it,

and withdraw Mr. Fillmore's name as a candidate whenever he should

think it proper to do so. In this letter, Mr. Fillmore refers to the

circumstances of embarrassment under which he entered upon the

duties of the Presidency, and says that he at once determined within

himself to decline a re-election, and to make that decision public.

From doing so, however, he was at that time, as well as

subsequently, dissuaded by the earnest remonstrances of friends. He

expresses the hope that the Convention may be able to unite in

nominating some one who, if elected, may be more successful in

retaining the confidence of the party than he has been;--he had

endeavored faithfully to discharge his duty to the country, and in

the consciousness of having acted from upright motives and according

to his best judgment, for the public good, he was quite willing to

have sacrificed himself for the sake of his country.

The death of HENRY CLAY has been the most marked event of the month.

He expired at Washington, on Tuesday, June 29, after a protracted

illness, and at the advanced age of 75 years. His decease was

announced in eloquent and appropriate terms in both branches of

Congress, and general demonstrations of regard for his memory and

regret at his loss took place throughout the country. His history is

already so familiar to the American public, that we add nothing here

to the notice given of him in another part of this Magazine. His

remains were taken to Lexington, Ky., for interment.

The proceedings of Congress since our last Record have not been of

special importance. In the Senate on the 28th of June a

communication was received from the President communicating part of

the correspondence had with the Austrian government concerning the

imprisonment of Mr. C. L. Brace. The principal document was a letter

from Prince Schwarzenberg, stating that Mr. Brace was found to have

been the bearer of important papers from Hungarian fugitives in

America to persons in Hungary very much suspected, and also to have

had in his possession inflammatory and treasonable pamphlets; and

that his imprisonment was therefore fully justified. A letter from

Mr. Webster to the American Chargé at Vienna, in regard to Chevalier

Hulsemann's complaints of the U. S. government, has been also

submitted to the Senate. Mr. W. says that notwithstanding his long

residence in this country Mr. Hulsemann seems to have yet to learn

that no foreign government, or its representative, can take just

offense at any thing which an officer of this government may say in

his private capacity; and that a Chargé d'Affairs can only hold

intercourse with this government through the Department of State.

Mr. W. declines to take any notice of the specific subjects of

complaint presented by Mr. H.----In the House of Representatives the

only important action taken has been the passage of a bill providing

for the donation to the several States, for purposes of education

and internal improvement, of large tracts of the public domain. Each

of the old States receives one hundred and fifty thousand acres for

each Senator and Representative in the present Congress: to the new

States the portions awarded are still larger. The bill was passed in

the House on the 26th of June by a vote of ayes 96, nays 86. The

bill was presented by Mr. Bennett of New York, and is regarded as

important, inasmuch as it secures to the old States a much larger

participation in the public lands than they have hitherto seemed

likely to obtain.

A National Agricultural Convention was held at Washington on the

24th of June, of which Marshall Wilder of Massachusetts was elected

President. It was decided to form a National Agricultural Society,

to hold yearly meetings at Washington.----The Supreme Court in New

York on the 11th of June pronounced a judgment, by a majority,

declaring the American Art-Union to be a lottery within the

prohibition of the Constitution of the State, and that it was

therefore illegal. An appeal has been taken by the Managers to the

Court of Appeals, where it has been argued, but no decision has yet

been given.----Madame Alboni, the celebrated contralto singer,

arrived in New York early in June and has given two successful

concerts.----Governor Kossuth delivered an address in New York on

the 21st of June upon the future of nations, insisting that it was

the duty of the United States to establish, what the world has not

yet seen, a national policy resting upon Christian principles as its

basis. He urged the cause of his country upon public attention, and

declared his mission to the United States to be closed. On the 23d

he delivered a farewell address to the German citizens of New York,

in which he spoke at length of the relations of Germany to the cause

of European freedom and of the duty of the German citizens of the

United States to exert an influence upon the American government

favorable to the protection of liberty throughout the world. It is

stated that his aggregate receipts of money in this country have

been somewhat less than one hundred thousand dollars.

In Texas, a company of dragoons, under Lieutenant Haven, has had a

skirmish with the Camanche Indians, from whom four captive children

and thirty-eight stolen horses were recovered. About the 1st of June

a family, consisting of a father, mother, and six children, while

encamped at La Mina, were attacked by a party of Camanches, and all

killed except the father and one daughter, who were severely

wounded, and two young children who were rescued. A few days

previous a party of five Californians were all killed by Mexicans

near San Fernando. On the evening of the 10th of May seven Americans

were attacked by a gang of about forty Mexicans and Indians, at a

lake called Campacuas, and five of them were killed. A good deal of

excitement prevailed in consequence of these repeated outrages, and

of the failure of the General Government to provide properly for the

protection of the parties.----Early in June, as the U. S. steamer

Camanche was ascending the Rio Bravo, five persons landed from her

and killed a cow, when the owner came forward and demanded payment.

This was refused with insults, and the marauders returned on board.

The steamer continued her voyage, and the pilot soon saw a party of

men approaching the bank, and fired upon them. They soon after

returned the fire, wounding two of the passengers, one being the

deputy-collector of the Custom-house of Rio Grande, and the other

his son.

From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to the 1st of June.

There is no political news of interest. A party of seventy-four

Frenchmen left California last fall for Sonora in Mexico,

accompanied by one American, named Moore. Mr. M. had returned to San

Francisco with intelligence that the party had been favorably

received by the Mexican authorities, who had bestowed upon them a

grant of three leagues of land near Carcospa, at the head of the

Santa Cruz valley, on condition that they should cultivate it for

ten years without selling it, and should not permit any Americans to

settle among them. They had also received from the Mexican

government horses, farming utensils, provisions, and other

necessaries, with permission to have five hundred of their

countrymen join them. They were intending soon to begin working the

rich mines in that neighborhood. Mr. Moore had been compelled by

threats and force to leave them. On his way back he met at Guyamas a

party of twelve who had been driven back, while going to California,

by Indians. While on their way to Sonora, they had fallen in with a

settlement of seventy-five Frenchmen, who treated them with great

harshness, and would have killed them but for the protection of the

Mexican authorities. This hostility between the French and American

settlers in California is ascribed to difficulties which occurred in

the mines between them. The Mexicans, whose hatred of the Americans

in that part of the country seems to be steadily increasing, have

taken advantage of these dissensions, and encourage the French in

their hostility to the Americans.----Previous to its adjournment,

which took place on the 5th of May, the Legislature passed an act to

take the census of the State before the 1st of November.----The

feeling of hostility to the Chinese settlers in California seems to

be increasing. Public meetings had been held in various quarters,

urging their removal, and Committees of Correspondence had been

formed to concert measures for effecting this object. It appears

from official reports that the whole number of Chinamen who had

arrived at San Francisco, from February, 1848, to May, 1852, was

11,953, and that of these only 167 had returned or died. Of the

whole number arrived only seven were women.--Nine missionaries of

the Methodist Episcopal Church had recently arrived, intending to

labor in California and Oregon.--The intelligence from the mines

continued to be highly encouraging. The weather was favorable; the

deposits continued to yield abundantly, and labor was generally well

rewarded.

From the SANDWICH ISLANDS our intelligence is to the 18th of May.

The session of the Hawaiian Parliament was opened on the 13th of

April. The opening speech of the King sets forth that the foreign

relations of the island are of a friendly character, except so far

as regards France, from the government of which no response has been

received as yet to propositions on the part of Hawaii. He states

that the peace of his dominions has been threatened by an invasion

of private adventurers from California; but that an appeal to the

United States Commissioner, promptly acted upon by Captain Gardner,

of the U. S. ship Vandalia, tranquilized the public mind. He had

taken steps to organize a military force for the future defense of

the island. In the Upper House the draft of a new Constitution had

been reported, and was under discussion. In the other House steps

had been taken to contradict the report that the islands desired

annexation to the United States.

From NEW MEXICO we learn that Colonel Sumner had removed his

head-quarters to Santa Fé, in order to give more effective military

support to the government. Governor Calhoun had left the country for

a visit to Washington, and died on the way: the government was thus

virtually in the hands of Colonel Sumner. The Indians and Mexicans

continued to be troublesome.

From UTAH our advices are to May 1st. Brigham Young had been again

elected President. The receipts at the tithing office from November,

1848, to March, 1852, were $244,747, mostly in property; in loans,

&c., $145,513; the expenditures were $353,765--leaving a balance of

$36,495. Missionaries were appointed at the General Conference to

Italy, Calcutta, and England. Edward Hunter was ordained presiding

bishop of the whole church: sixty-seven priests were ordained. The

Report speaks of the church and settlements as being in a highly

flourishing condition.

MEXICO.

We have intelligence from Mexico to the 5th of June. Political

affairs seem to be in a confused and unpromising condition. Previous

to the adjournment of the present Congress the Cabinet addressed a

note to the Chamber of Deputies, asking them to take some decided

step whereby to rescue the government from the difficult position in

which it will be placed, without power or resources, and to save the

nation from the necessary consequences of such a crisis. It was

suggested that the government might be authorized to take, in

connection with committees to be appointed by the Chamber, the

resolutions necessary--such resolutions to be executed under the

responsibility of the Ministry. This note was referred to a

committee, which almost immediately reported that there was no

reason why this demand for extraordinary powers should be granted.

This report was adopted by a vote of 74 to 13. Congress adjourned on

the 21st of May. The President's Address referred to the critical

circumstances in which the country was placed when the Congress

first met, which made it to be feared that its mission would be only

the saddest duty reserved to man on earth, that of assisting at the

burial of his country. The flame of war still blazed upon their

frontier: negotiations designed to facilitate means of communication

which would make Mexico the centre of the commercial world, had

terminated in a manner to render possible a renewal of that war; and

the commercial crisis had reached a development which threatened the

domestic peace and the foreign alliances of the country. There was a

daily increase in the deficit; distrust prevailed between the

different departments; the country was fatigued by its convulsions

and disorders, and weakened by its dissensions; and it seemed

impossible to prolong the existence of the government. How the

country had been rescued from such perils it was not easy to say,

unless it were by the special aid and protection of Providence.

Guided by its convictions and sustained by its hope, the government

had employed all the means at its disposal, and would still endeavor

to draw all possible benefit from its resources, stopping only when

those resources should arrest its action. Fearing that this event

might speedily happen, a simplification of the powers of the

Legislature, during its vacation, had been proposed, instead of

leaving all to the exercise of a discretionary power by the

Executive. To this, however, the Legislature had not assented: and,

consequently, the government considering its responsibility

protected for the future, would spare no means or sacrifices to

fulfill its difficult and delicate mission. To this address the Vice

President of the Chamber replied, sketching the labors of the

session, and saying that the legislative donation of the

extraordinary powers demanded, could not have been granted without a

violation of the Constitution--a fact with which the Executive

should be deeply impressed. The means made use of up to the present

time would be sufficient, if applied with care. The Legislature

hoped, as much as it desired, that such would be the case. Great

anxiety was felt as to the nature of the measures which the

government would adopt: the general expectation seemed to be that

the President Arista would take the whole government into his own

hands, and the suggestion was received with a good deal of favor. It

was rumored that the aid of the United States had been sought for

such an attempt--to be given in the shape of six millions of

dollars, in return for abrogating that clause of the treaty which

requires them to protect the Mexican frontier from the Indians.

This, however, is mere conjecture as yet.----Serious difficulties

have arisen between the Mexican authorities and the American Consul,

Mr. F. W. Rice, at Acapulco. Mr. Rice sold the propeller Stockton,

for wages due to her hands: she was bid off by Mr. Snyder, the chief

engineer, at $3000 cash down, and $8500 within twenty-four hours

after the sale. He asked and obtained two delays in making the first

payment; and finally said he could not pay it until the next day.

Upon this Mr. Rice again advertised the vessel for sale, on his

account: she was sold to Capt. Triton, of Panama, for $4250. Mr.

Snyder then applied to the Mexican court, and the judge went on

board, broke the Consular seals, took possession of the vessel, and

advertised her again for sale. Mr. Rice proclaimed the sale illegal,

and protested against it, and, further, prevented Mr. Snyder

forcibly from tearing down his posted protest. At the day of sale no

bidders appeared. The Mexican authorities then arrested Mr. Rice,

and committed him to prison, where he remained at the latest dates.

Proper representations have of course been made to the U. S.

government, and the matter will doubtless receive proper

attention.----An encounter had taken place in Sonora, between a

party of 300 Indians and a detachment of regular Mexican troops and

National Guards. The latter were forced to retreat.----Gen. Mejia;

who acquired some distinction during the late war, died recently in

the city of Mexico, and Gen. Michelena, at Morelia.----The refusal

of Congress to admit foreign flour, free of duty, had created a good

deal of feeling in those districts where the want of it is most

severely felt. In Vera Cruz, a large public meeting was held, at

which it was determined to request the local authorities to send

for a supply of flour, without regard to the law.----The State of

Durango is in a melancholy condition: hunger, pestilence, and

continued incursions of the Indians, have rendered it nearly

desolate.----Four of the revolutionists under Caravajal, captured by

the Mexicans, were executed by Gen. Avalos, at Matamoras, in June:

two of them were Americans.

SOUTH AMERICA.

There is no intelligence of special interest from any of the South

American States. From _Buenos Ayres_, our dates are to the 15th of

May, when every thing was quiet, and political affairs were in a

promising condition. The new Legislature met on the 1st, and

resolutions had been introduced tendering public thanks to General

Urquiza for having delivered the country from tyranny. He had been

invested with complete control of the foreign relations, and the

affairs of peace and war. Don Lopez was elected Governor of the

province of Buenos Ayres on the 13th, receiving 33 of the 38 votes

in the Legislative Chamber. The choice gives universal satisfaction

to the friends of the new order of things. The Governors of all the

provinces were to meet at Santa Fé on the 29th, to determine upon

the form of a Central Government. General Urquiza was to meet them

in Convention there, and it is stated that he was to be accompanied

by Mr. Pendleton, the United States Chargé, whose aid had been

asked, especially in explaining in Convention the nature and working

of American institutions.----At _Rio Janeiro_ a dissolution of the

Cabinet was anticipated. Great dissatisfaction was felt at certain

treaties recently concluded with Montevideo, and at the

correspondence of Mr. Hudson, the late English Minister, upon the

Slave Trade, which had been lately published in London.----From

_Ecuador_ there is nothing new. Flores still remained at Puna, below

Guayaquil, with his forces.----In _Chili_ there was a slight attempt

at insurrection in the garrison at Trospunta, but it was soon put

down. Six persons implicated in previous revolts were executed at

Copiapo on the 22d of May.

GREAT BRITAIN.

Public attention in England has been to a very considerable extent

engrossed by the approaching elections. The Ministry maintain rigid

silence as to the policy they intend to pursue though it is of

course impossible to avoid incidental indications of their

sentiments and purposes. The Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr.

Disraeli, has issued an address to his constituents, which shows

even more distinctly than his financial _exposé_, of which we gave a

summary last month, that the cause of Protection is, in his

judgment, well-nigh obsolete. In that address he states that the

time has gone by when the injuries which the great producing

interests have sustained from the Free Trade policy of 1846, can be

alleviated or removed by a recurrence to laws which existed before

that time:--"The spirit of the age," he says, "tends to free

intercourse, and no statesman can disregard with impunity the genius

of the epoch in which he lives." It is, however, the intention of

the Ministry to recommend such measures as shall tend to relieve the

producer from the unequal competition he is now compelled to wage,

and the possibility of doing this by a revision and reduction of

taxation, seems to loom in the future. Still, the Chancellor urges,

nothing useful can be done in this direction, unless the Ministry is

sustained by a powerful majority in Parliament; and he accordingly

presses the importance of electing members of the Ministerial

party.----A declaration of at least equal importance was drawn from

the Premier, the Earl of Derby, in the House of Lords, on the 24th

of May, by Earl Granville, who incidentally quoted a remark ascribed

to Lord Derby that a recurrence to the duty on corn would be found

necessary for purposes of revenue and protection. Lord Derby rose to

correct him. He had not represented it as necessary, but only as

desirable,--and whether it should be done or not, depended entirely

on the elections. But he added, that in his opinion, from what he

had since heard and learned, there certainly would not be in favor

of the imposition of a duty on foreign corn, that extensive majority

in the country without which it would not be desirable to impose

it.----Lord John Russell has issued an address to his constituents,

for a re-election, rehearsing the policy of the government while it

was under his direction, sketching the proceedings of the new

Ministry, and declaring his purpose to contend that no duty should

be imposed on the import of corn, either for revenue or protection;

and that the commercial policy of the last ten years is not an evil

to be mitigated, but a good to be extended--not an unwise or

disastrous policy which ought to be reversed, altered, or modified,

but a just and beneficial system which should be supported,

strengthened, and upheld.----The course of the Earl of Malmesbury,

the Foreign Secretary, in regard to the case of Mr. Mather, an

English subject, who had been treated with gross indignities and

serious personal injuries by officers of the Tuscan government, has

excited a good deal of attention. He had first demanded compensation

from the government as a matter of right, and, after consulting Mr.

Mather's father, had named £5000 as the sum to be paid. It seems,

however, from the official documents since published, that he

accompanied this demand with an opinion that it was exorbitant, and

named £500 as a minimum. The negotiation ended by Mr. Scarlett, the

British agent at Florence, accepting £222 as a compensation and that

as a donation from the Tuscan government--waiving the principle of

its responsibility. The matter had been brought up in Parliament,

and the Earl had felt constrained to disavow wholly Mr. Scarlett's

action.----The current debates in Parliament have been devoid of

special interest. On the 8th of June, in reply to a strong speech

from Sir James Graham, Mr. Disraeli vindicated himself from the

charge of having brought the public business into an unsatisfactory

and disgraceful condition, and made a general statement of the bills

which the government thought it necessary to press upon the

attention of Parliament. On the 7th the Militia Bill was read a

third time and passed, by 220 votes to 184.----A bill was pressed

upon the House of Lords by the Earl of Malmesbury, proposing a

Convention with France for the mutual surrender of criminals, which

was found upon examination to give to the French government very

extraordinary powers over any of its subjects in England. The list

of crimes embraced was very greatly extended--and alleged offenders

were to be surrendered upon the mere proof of their identity. All

the leading Peers spoke very strongly of the objectionable features

of the measure, and it was sent to the committee for the purpose of

receiving the material alterations required.----Fergus O'Connor has

been consigned to a lunatic asylum--his insane eccentricities having

reached a point at which it was no longer considered safe to leave

him at liberty.----Professor McDougall has been elected to fill the

chair of Moral Philosophy in the University of Edinburgh, vacated by

the resignation of Professor Wilson.----The Irish Exhibition of

Industry was opened at Cork, with public ceremonies, in which the

Lord Lieutenant participated, on the 10th of June.----The General

Assembly of the Church of Scotland, and that of the Free Church both

commenced their sittings on the 20th of May.----The electric

telegraph has been carried across the Irish Channel, from Holyhead

to the Hill of Howth, a distance of sixty-five miles;--the mode of

accomplishing this result was by sinking a cable, as had previously

been done across the Straits of Dover.----The Queen has issued a

proclamation forbidding all Roman Catholic ceremonies, and all

appearance in Catholic vestments, except in Catholic churches or in

private houses.

FRANCE.

The month has not been marked by any event of special importance in

France. The government has continued in its usual course, though

indications are apparent of impending difficulties in the near

future. The number of prominent men who refuse to take the oath of

allegiance is daily increasing, and many who have hitherto filled

places in the councils of the Departments and of the Municipalities,

have resigned them to avoid the oath. General Bedeau has sent a tart

letter to the Minister of War, conveying his refusal; and a public

subscription has been set on foot, with success, in Paris, for the

relief of General Changarnier, who has been reduced to poverty by

his firm refusal to yield to the usurpation.----The President

continues relentlessly his restriction of the press, and has

involved himself in considerable embarrassment by the extent to

which he carries it. The organs of the Legitimist party in all the

great towns have received the warnings which empower the President,

as the next step, to suppress them entirely. The Paris _Débats_ has

lately received a warning for its silence upon political subjects.

But a very singular quarrel has arisen between the President and the

_Constitutionnel_, which has been from the beginning the least

scrupulous of all his defenders. That paper contained an article

intended to influence the Belgian elections then pending, and

distinctly menacing that country with a retaliatory tariff, if its

hostility to Louis Napoleon were not abandoned, or at least

modified. The effect of the publication of this article was such,

that the Belgian Minister demanded an explanation, and was assured

that the article did not meet the approbation of the Government.

This _quasi_ disavowal was published by the Belgian press, and in

reply M. Granier de Cassagnac, the writer of the article, declared

that he had not spoken in his own name, but at the direct instance

and with the full approval of the President. The Paris _Moniteur_

then contained an official announcement, disavowing M. de

Cassagnac's articles, and stating that "no organ can engage the

responsibility of the Government but the _Moniteur_." The

_Constitutionnel_ replied by a declaration signed by its owner, Dr.

Veron, that he still believed the original article to have been

sanctioned by the President. This brought down upon it an official

warning. Dr. Veron rejoined by expressing his regret, but adding

that the Cabinet had ordered several hundred copies of the paper

containing the articles disavowed; and this he considered _prima

facie_ evidence that they met with the approbation of the

Government. This brought upon the paper a second warning: the next

step, of course, is suppression.----The Paris Correspondents of

three of the London papers have been summoned to the department of

Police, and assured by the Director that they are hereafter to be

held personally responsible, not only for the contents of their own

letters, but for whatever the journals with which they are connected

may say, in leading articles or otherwise, concerning French

affairs. A strong effort was made by them to change this

determination, but without effect.----Girardin, in the _Presse_,

states that General Changarnier, in 1848, proposed to the

Provisional Government the military invasion of England. The General

himself has authorized the _Times_ to give the statement an explicit

contradiction.----M. Heckeren, who was sent by the French Government

to Vienna and Berlin, to ascertain more definitely the disposition

of the Northern Powers toward Louis Napoleon, had returned from his

mission, but its results had not been authoritatively made known.

The London _Times_ has, however, given what purports to be a

synopsis of the documents relating to it. From this it appears that

the allied sovereigns will connive at Louis Napoleon's usurpation of

sovereignty in France for life; but so long as one Bourbon exists

they can recognize no other person as _hereditary_ sovereign of that

country; and they hold themselves bound and justified by the

treaties of 1815 to oppose the establishment of a Bonapartist

dynasty. The three Great Northern Powers, it would seem, are

combining to resuscitate the principles of the Holy Alliance, and to

impose them upon the European system of States as the international

law, notwithstanding the events of the last two-and-twenty years

have rendered them practically obsolete.

From the other European countries there is little intelligence

worthy of record.----In BELGIUM the elections have resulted in the

increase of the liberal members of the Chamber. An editor,

prosecuted for having libeled Louis Napoleon, has been acquitted by

a jury.----In AUSTRIA a new law has been enacted imposing rigorous

restrictions upon the press.

Editor's Table.

The Moral Influences of the Stage is a subject which, although

earnestly discussed for centuries, still maintains all its

theoretical and practical importance. The weight of argument, we

think, has ever been with the assailants, and yet candor requires

the concession, that there have been, at times, thinking men,

serious men, may we not also say, Christian men, to be found among

the defenders of theatrical representations? On a fair statement of

the case, however, it will plainly appear, that these have ever been

the defenders of an imaginary, or hypothetical, instead of a really

existing stage.

Never--we think we may safely say it--never has any true friend of

religion and morality been found upholding the theatre as it

actually _is_, or _was_, at any particular period. Indeed, this may

also be said of its most partial advocates. Their warmest defense is

ever coupled with the admission, that, as at present managed, it

needs some thorough and decided reform to make it, in all respects,

what it ought to be. We do not think that we ever read any thing in

advocacy of the stage without some proviso of this kind. It never

_is_--it never _was_--what it ought to be, and might be. But then

the idea is ever held forth of some future reform. We are told, for

example, what the theatre might become, if, instead of being

condemned by the more moral and religious part of the community, it

received the support of their presence, and could have the benefit

of their regulation.

So plausible have these arguments appeared, that the experiment has

again and again been tried. Reforms have been attempted in the

characters of the plays, of the actors, and of the audiences. Good

men and good women have written expressly for the stage. Johnson and

Hannah Moore, and Young--to say nothing of Buchanan and

Addison--have contributed their services in these efforts at

expurgation, but all alike in vain. Some of these have afterward

confessed the hopelessness of the undertaking, and lamented that by

taking part in it they had given a seeming encouragement to what

they really meant to condemn. The expected reform has never

appeared. If, through great exertion, some improvement may have

manifested itself for a time, yet, sooner or later, the relapse

comes on. Nature--our human nature--will have its way. The evil

elements predominate; and the stage sinks again, until its visible

degradation once more arouses attention, and calls for some other

spasmodic effort, only to meet the same failure, and to furnish

another proof of some radical inherent vitiosity.

Good plays may, indeed, be acted; but they will not long continue to

call forth what are styled _good audiences_--the term having

reference to numbers and pecuniary avails, rather than to moral

worth. In fact, the theatre presents its most mischievous aspect

when it claims to be a school of morals. Its advocates may talk as

they will about "holding the mirror up to Nature, showing Virtue its

own feature, Vice its own image;" but it can only remind us that

there is a cant of the play-house as well as of the conventicle, and

that Shaftsbury and his sentimental followers can "whine" as well as

Whitfield and Beecher. The common sense of mankind pronounces it at

once the worst of all hypocrisies--the hypocrisy of false sentiment

ashamed of its real name and real character. As a proof of this, we

may say that the stage has never been known in any language by any

epithet denoting instruction, either moral or otherwise. It is the

_play-house_, or house of amusement--the _theatrum_, the place for

shows, for spectacles, for pleasurable emotions through the senses

and the excitements of the sensitive nature. There may have been

periods when moral or religious instruction of some kind could,

perhaps, have been claimed as one end of dramatic representations,

but that was before there was a higher stage, a higher _pulpitum_

divinely instituted for the moral tuition of mankind. Since that

time, the very profanity of the claim to be a "school of morals" has

only set in a stronger light the fact that, instead of elevating an

immoral community, the stage is itself ever drawn down by it into a

lower, and still lower degradation.

We will venture the position, that no open vice is so pernicious to

the soul as what may be called a false virtue; and this furnishes

the kind of morality to which the stage is driven when it would make

the fairest show of its moral pretensions. The virtues of the stage

are not Christian virtues. If they are not Christian, they are

anti-Christian; for on this ground there can be no _via media_, no

neutrality. Who would ever think of making the moral excellences

commended in the Sermon on the Mount, or in Paul's Epistles, the

subjects of theatrical instruction? How would humility, forgiveness,

poverty of spirit, meekness, temperance, long-suffering, charity,

appear in a stage hero? In what way may they be made to minister to

the exciting, the sentimental, the melodramatic? These virtues have,

indeed, an elevation to which no stage-heroism or theatrical

affectation ever attained; but such a rising ever implies a previous

descent into the vale of personal humility, a previous lowliness of

spirit altogether out of keeping with any dramatic or merely

æsthetic representation. The Christian moralities can come upon the

stage only in the shape of caricatures, or as the hypocritical

disguise through which some Joseph Surface is placed in most

disparaging contrast with the false virtues or splendid vices the

theatre-going public most admires.

It is equally true that the most tender emotions find no

fitting-place upon the stage. The deepest pathetic--the purest, the

most soul-healing--in other words, the pathetic of common life, can

not be _acted_ without revolting us. Hence, to fit it for the stage,

pity must be mingled with other ingredients of a more exciting or

spicy kind. It must be associated with the extravagance of love, or

stinging jealousy, or complaining madness, or some other less usual

semi-malevolent passion, which, while it adds to the theatrical

effect, actually deadens the more genial and deeper sympathies that

are demanded for the undramatic or ordinary sufferings of humanity.

We can not illustrate this thought better than by referring the

reader to that most touching story which is given in the July number

of our Magazine, and entitled, "The Mourner and the Comforter." How

rich the effect of such a tale when simply read, without any

external accompaniments!--how much richer, we might say, for the

very want of them! How its "rain of tears" mellows and fertilizes

the hard soil of the human heart! And yet how few and simple the

incidents! How undramatic the outward fictitious dress, through

which are represented emotions the most vitally real in human

nature! Like a strain of the richest, yet simplest music, in which

the accompaniment is just sufficient to call out the harmonious

relations of the melody, without marring by its artistic or dramatic

prominence the deep spiritual reality that dwells in the tones. We

appeal to every one who has read that touching narrative--how

utterly would it be spoiled by being _acted_! There might be some

theatrical effect given to the agitated scene upon the balcony, but

a vail would have to be drawn around the chamber of the mourner, and

the more than heroic friend who sits by her in the long watches of

the night. Such scenes, it may be said, are too common for the

stage--ay, and too holy for it, too. They are too pure for the

Kembles and Sinclairs ever to meddle with, and they know it, and

their audiences feel it. We decide instinctively that all _acting_

here would be more than out of place. The very thought of theatrical

representation would seem like a profanation of the purest and

holiest affections of our nature.

And so too of others, which, although not virtues have more of a

prudential or worldly aspect. The stage may sometimes tolerate a

temperance or an anti-gambling hero, but it is only to feed a

temporary public excitement, and the moment that excitement

manifests the first symptom of a relapse, this school of morals must

immediately follow, instead of directing the new public sentiment.

The wonder is, that any thinking man could ever expect it to be

otherwise. Every one knows that the tastes of the audience make the

law to the writer, the actor, and the manager. In this view of the

matter, we need only the application of a very few plain principles

and facts, to show how utterly hopeless must be the idea of the

moral improvement of any representation which can only be sustained

on the tenure of pleasing the largest audiences, without any regard

to the materials of which they are composed. The first of these is,

that the mass of mankind are not virtuous, they are not

intelligent--the second, that even the more virtuous portions are

worse in the midst of an applauding and condemning crowd than they

would be in other circumstances; and the third, that the evil

aspects of our humanity furnish the most exciting themes, or those

best adapted to theatrical representations.

But the world will become better--the world is becoming better, it

may be said--and why should not the stage share in the improvement?

If the world is becoming better, it is altogether through different

and higher means. If it is becoming better, it is by the influence

of truth and grace--through the Church--upon individual souls

brought to a right view, first of all, of the individual depravity,

and thus by individual accretion, contributing to the growth of a

better public sentiment. The spirit of theatrical representations is

directly the reverse of this. It operates upon men in crowds, not as

assembled in the same space merely, but through those feelings and

influences which belong to them solely or chiefly in masses.

Deriving its aliment from the most outward public sentiment, its

tendency is ever, instead of "holding the mirror up to Nature," in

any self-revealing light, to hide men from themselves. By absorbing

the soul in exciting representations, in which the most depraved can

take a sort of abstract or sentimental interest, it causes men to

mistake this feeling for true virtue and true philanthropy, when

they may be in the lowest hell of selfishness. It may become, in

this way, more demoralizing than a display of the most revolting

vices, because it buries the individual character beneath a mass of

sentiments and emotions in which a man or a woman may luxuriate

without one feeling of penitence for their own transgressions, or

one thought of dissatisfaction with their own wretchedly diseased

moral state.

The theatre might with far more truth and honesty be defended on the

ground of mere amusement. This is, doubtless, its most real object;

but there is an instinctive feeling in the human soul that it would

not do to trust its defense solely to such a plea. In the first

place, it may be charged with inordinate excess. Who dare justify

the spending night after night in such ceaseless pleasure-seeking?

And if there were not vast numbers who did this, our theatres could

never be supported. To say nothing here of religion, or a life to

come, the mere consideration of this world, and the poor suffering

humanity by which it is tenanted, would urgently forbid that much of

this life, or even a small portion of it, should be devoted to mere

amusement. Within a very few rods of every theatre in our city,

almost every species of misery to which man is subject is daily and

nightly experienced. How, in view of this, can any truly feeling

soul (and we mean by this a very different species of feeling from

that which is commonly generated in theatres) talk of amusing

himself? In the year 1832, during the severest prevalence of the

cholera, the theatres in New York were closed. We well remember the

impatience manifested at the event by those who claimed to represent

the theatre-going public, and with what exulting spirits they called

upon their patrons to improve the jubilee of their opening. We well

remember how freely the terms "bigot" and "sour religionist" were

applied to all who thought a further suppression of heartless

amusements was due, if only as a sorrowing tribute of respect to

suffering humanity. It was all the sheerest Pharisaism, they said,

thus to stand in the way of the innocent and rational amusements of

mankind; as though, forsooth, amusement was the great end of human

existence, and they who so impatiently claimed it actually needed

some relaxation from the arduous and unremitted exertions they had

been making for the relief of the sorrowing and toiling millions of

their race.

But if not for _amusement_, it might be said, then for _recreation_,

which is a very different thing. The former term is used when the

end aimed at is pleasure merely, without any reference to _the

good_, as a something higher and better than _pleasurable

sensations_, sought simply because they are pleasurable, and without

regard to the spiritual health. In its contemptible French etymology

we see the very soul of the word, so far as such a word may be said

to have any soul. It is _muser_, _s'amuser_, having truly nothing to

do with _music_ or the _Muses_, but signifying to _loiter_, to

_idle_, to _kill time_. We may well doubt whether this ever can be

innocent, even in the smallest degree. Certainly, to devote to it

any considerable portion of our existence, especially in view of

what has been and is now the condition of our race, must be not only

the most heartless, but in its consequences the most damning of

sins. It is in this sense that every true philanthropist, to say

nothing of the Christian, must utter his loud amen to the

denunciation of the heathen Seneca--_Nihil est tam damnosum bonis

moribus quam in spectaculis desidere, tunc enim per voluptatem

facilius vitia surrepunt._--"Nothing is so destructive to good

morals as mere amusement, or the indolent waste of time in public

spectacles; it is through such pleasure that all vices most readily

come creeping into the soul."

We would have our Editor's Table ever serious, ever earnest, and yet

in true harmony with all that innocent and cheerful and even

mirthful recreation, which is as necessary sometimes for the

spiritual as for the bodily health. We would avoid every appearance

of sermonizing, and yet we can not help quoting here an authority

higher than Seneca--_Vanis mundi pompis renuntio_.--"The vain pomp

of the world I renounce," is the language of the primitive form of

Christian baptism, still literally in use in one of our largest

Christian denominations, and expressed in substance by them all. Now

it can be clearly shown that this word, _pompæ_, was not used, as it

now often is, in a vague and general manner, but was employed with

special reference to public theatrical shows and representations. To

every baptized Christian, it seems to us, the argument must be

conclusive. If theatrical shows (_pompæ_) are not "the world," in

the New Testament sense, what possible earthly thing can be included

under this once most significant name? If they are not embraced in

"the lust of the flesh, the lust of the eye, and the pride of life,"

then not only has language no fixed meaning, but even ideas

themselves have wholly changed.

Recreation, as we have said, is something very different from

amusement. It is the _re-creating_ or renewing the overtasked mental

or bodily powers, by some relaxing and restoring exercise. It is

pleasurable, as all right things ever are; but here is the

all-important distinction--pleasure is not its _end_. The

accompanying enjoyment is only a laxative and recreative _means_ to

something higher and more ultimate, and more _real_ in human

existence; and it is only on this ground that it becomes either

rational or innocent. Amusement never can be either.

But those who need recreation in this sense will never seek it in

the theatre. The reason presents itself at once. Experience concurs

with the _a priori_ view, derived from the very nature of the thing,

in declaring that it can never be found there. The emotions called

out in the play-house are exciting--they are exhausting--they are

dissipating. In each of these aspects they are at war with the

legitimate idea of the recreative. They stimulate but do not

invigorate. All mere pleasure-seeking has in it an element of death.

It has its ground in a morbid feeling of want which is ever rendered

still more morbid by gratification. It is the same with that which

lies at the foundation of the appetite for stimulating drinks,

except that here it affects the whole spiritual system. In a word,

the truly recreative exercises of the soul, in which pleasure is a

means and not an end, are ever attended by a sense of freedom, and

this is the best characteristic by which they are to be

distinguished from others that assume the appearance and the name.

Whatever is healthful, either to body or soul, is never enslaving.

The counterfeit passion for enjoyment, on the other hand, is ever

binding the spirit to a deeper and still deeper bondage. From the

one, the mind returns with a healthier and heartier relish to the

more arduous and serious duties of life; the other at every

repetition renders such duties more and more the objects of an ever

growing distaste and aversion. The slightest observation of the

habitual frequenters of the theatre will determine to which class of

mental exercises the influence of its representations are to be

assigned.

But there is another thought connected with this. We find in such an

idea of the nature and end of theatrical representations the true

reason why actors and actresses never have been, and never can be

regarded as a reputable class in society. They may contribute ever

so much to our amusement, but no principle of gratitude, even if

there were any ground for so sacred a feeling, will ever bring the

very persons who use them as a means of enjoyment to recognize their

social equality. A favorite actor may now and then be toasted at a

public dinner. Grave men may sometimes manifest a public interest in

some actress who has furnished an exciting theme of newspaper

discussion, or judicial investigation. But let the higher tests be

demanded, and the instinctive feeling of our humanity manifests

itself at once. They never have been, they never will be admitted

freely to the more intimate social relations. The fashionable

frequenter of the theatre would not cordially give his daughter in

marriage to the most popular of actors; he would turn with aversion

from the thought that his son should choose for his bride the most

accomplished actress that ever called forth the rapturous plaudits

of a pleasure-maddened audience. We need not go far for the reason.

It may be partly found in the fact, or suspicion, of their generally

vicious lives. But of that, and the cause of it, in another place.

It is a different though related thought to which we would here give

prominence. With all that is pretended about the theatre being a

place of instruction, or recreation, there is an under-consciousness

that its great end is pleasurable emotion merely--in a word,

amusement. Along with this there is another suppressed consciousness

that such an end is not honorable to our humanity, and that those,

therefore, whose chief employment is to minister to it, can not be

regarded as having a high or even a reputable calling. This decision

may be called unjust, but we can not alter it, even though we fail

to discover the true ground in which it has its origin. The

distinctions exist in the very nature of things and ideas. No

theoretical fraternization can ever essentially change them.

There are three grades of employment whose respective rank must ever

be independent of all conventionalities. Two are reputable, though

differing in degree. The third is essentially dishonorable through

all its great variety of departments. The highest place is given,

and must ever be given, to those who live for the spirit's good, or

the health of the body as conducive to it--the second to those most

useful and reputable employments that have for their end the

material well-being, in itself considered. The region of dishonor

embraces all of every class whose aim is the [Greek: hêdhy] instead

of the [Greek: hagathhon], the _pleasurable_ instead of the _good_

or the truly _useful_, whether in respect to soul or body--all who

live to please, to gratify simply--to _amuse_ mankind--in other

words, to aid them in annihilating their precious earthly time, and

in turning away their thoughts from the great ends of their immortal

existence. The poorest mechanic, or day-laborer, who is toiling in

the lowest department of the _utile_ (or useful as we have defined

it) is of a higher rank, belongs to a more honorable class, than the

proudest play-actor that ever trod the boards of a theatre. Among

these "men and women of pleasure," there may be also numerous

varieties and degrees, from the female balancer on the tight rope to

the most fashionable danseuse; from the clown of the circus to the

Forrest or Macready of the aristocratic theatre; but the instinct of

the human consciousness recognizes in them all but one genus. They

all live to _amuse_, and such a life can not be honorable.

It may be said, perhaps, that this dishonor should attach to those

who are _amused_ as well as to the amusers. It might be so on the

score of abstract justice; but, in fact, from the very thought there

comes an additional load of obloquy upon the condemned caste. Mere

pleasure-seeking, mere amusement, is felt to be, in itself, a

degradation of the rational nature, and a semi-conscious sense of

this finds relief by casting it upon the instruments who are

supposed to receive pecuniary emolument in place of the unavoidable

dishonor. It may be thus seen that the disrepute of actors and

actresses is no accidental disadvantage, but has an unchangeable

reason in the laws of the human consciousness. From no other cause

could have come that universal reprobation of the scenic character,

to be found in the writings of the most enlightened heathen as well

as in those of the most zealous Christian Fathers. The opinions of

Plato and Socrates on this point are most express, and Augustine

only utters the sentiment of the Classical as well as the Christian

world when he says (De Civ. Dei, 2. 14), _Adores removent a

societate civitatis--ab honoribus omnibus repellunt ho mines

scenicos_--"They remove actors from civic society--from all honors

do they repel the men of the stage." The exceptions to this only

prove the rule. The fact that in a very few cases, like those of

Garrick and Mrs. Siddons, they have barely emerged from this load of

dishonor, only shows how universal and how deep is the opprobrium.

The stage can not be reformed. Our proof of this has, thus far, been

drawn mainly from historical experience. But such experience, like

every other legitimate induction, forces upon us the thought of some

underlying principle of evil, some inherent vitiosity which no

change of outward circumstances could be ever expected to eradicate.

In searching for this essential vice we need not indulge in any

affectation of profundity. It will be found, we think, lying nearer

the surface than is commonly imagined. Why is play-acting radically

vicious? Because, we answer, it is just what its name imports. It is

_acting_--_acting_ in the theatrical sense--acting a part--an

unreal part, in distinction from the stern verities which ever ought

to occupy this serious and earnest life of ours. We have alluded to

the heartlessness of the stage in view of the abounding sufferings

and sorrows of the world. It is a varied aspect of the same truth we

would here present. We have no right to waste upon mere amusement

the precious time that might be employed in the alleviation of so

much misery. We have no right to be _acting_, or to take delight in

seeing others _acting_, in a world where abounding insincerity,

falsehood, and disguise, are ever demanding truthfulness, and

earnestness, and reality, as the noblest and most valuable elements

in human character. Certainly there is a call upon us to avoid every

thing of even a seemingly contrary tendency, in whatever fair

disguise it may present itself, or under whatever fair name of art,

or æsthetics, or literature, it may claim our admiration. The

objection is not so much that the representation is fictitious in

itself, as its tendency to generate fictitious characters in the

actors and spectators. No sober thinking man can look round upon our

world without perceiving that its prevailing depravity is just that

which the theatre is most adapted to encourage. There is acting,

stage-acting, every where--in politics, in literature, and even in

religion. Men are playing State and playing Church. Artificialness

of character is pervading our "world of letters" to a most

demoralizing extent. We are every where living too much out of

ourselves--alternately the victims and creators of false public

sentiments under which the theatrical spirit of the times is burying

every thing real and truthful in human nature. Our morals are

theatrical; our public and social life is theatrical; our

revolutions and our sympathy with revolutions are theatrical; our

political conventions are theatrical; our philanthropy and our

reforms are theatrical.

But we can not at present dwell upon this view in its more general

aspects. In the more immediate effect upon actors and actresses

themselves we find the radical cause of the vicious lives which have

ever characterized them as a class. Men and women who act every

character will have no character of their own. The dangerous faculty

of assuming any passion, and any supposed moral state, must, in the

end, be inconsistent with that earnestness of feeling without which

there can be neither moral nor intellectual depth. We have neither

time nor space to dwell upon those evil effects of theatrical

representations which are best known and most generally admitted.

Whoever demands proof of them may be referred to the records of our

Criminal Courts. We would rather search for the root of the evil. It

is here in the most interior idea of the drama that we find the

virus fountain from which all its poison flows, and of which what

are called the incidental evils, are but the necessary ultimate

manifestations. It is not found simply in the personation of vicious

characters, whether in the shape of heroic crime or vulgar comedy.

The radical mischief is in the fact that the theatre is the great

storehouse and seminary of _false feeling_; and all false feeling,

without the exception even of the religious (in fact, the higher the

pretension the greater the evil), is so much spiritual poison. By

this we mean an emotion and a sentimentality having no ground in any

previous healthy moral state with which they may be organically

connected. No fact is more certain than that such a seeming virtue

may be called out in the worst of men, and that instead of truly

softening and meliorating, it invariably exerts a hardening

influence, rendering the affections less capable of being aroused

to the genuine duties and genuine benevolence of real life. It is

indeed a blessed and a blissful thing to have a feeling heart; but,

then, the feeling must be real; that is, as we have defined it,

flowing from within as the legitimate product of a true, moral

organism. Better be without all feeling than have that which is the

unnatural result of artificial stimulus. Better that the soul be an

arid desert than that it should be watered by such Stygian streams,

or luxuriate in the rank Upas of such a deadly verdure. There is

evidence in abundance that a man may melt under the influence of a

theatrical sentimentality, and yet go forth to the commission of the

worst of crimes; with a freedom, too, all the greater for the

fictitious virtue under which his true character has been so

completely concealed from his own eyes.

It might, at first, seem strange that this should be so. The

emotions of benevolence, of compassion, of patriotism, it might be

said, must be the same whatever calls them forth. But a true

analysis will show that there is not only a great but an essential

difference. In the one case feeling is the natural result of a sound

soul in direct communion with the realities of life. In the other it

is entirely artificial.--One has its ground in the reason and the

conscience; the other in the sensitive and imaginative nature. One

comes to us in the due course of things; the other we create for

ourselves. The one is ever recuperative, elevating while it humbles,

softening while it invigorates. It grows stronger and purer by

exercise. It never satiates, never exhausts, never reacts. The other

ever produces an exhaustion corresponding to the unnatural

excitement, and like every other artificial stimulus reduces the

spiritual nature to a lower state at every repetition. In short, to

use the expressive Scriptural comparisons, the one is a continual

pouring into broken cisterns; the other is like a well of _living

water_, springing up to everlasting life. Nothing is more alluringly

deceptive, and therefore more dangerous, than the cultivation of the

æsthetic nature, either to the exclusion of the moral, or by

cherishing a public sentiment that confounds them together. We

should be warned by the fact, of which history furnishes more than

one example, that a nation may be distinguished for artistic and

dramatic refinement, and yet present the most horrid contrast of

crime and cruelty. A similar view may be taken of an age noted for a

theoretical, or sentimental, or theatrical philanthropy. There is

great reason to fear that it will be followed, if not accompanied,

by one distinguished for great ferocity and recklessness of actual

human suffering.

But to return to our analogy. It might with equal justice be

maintained, in respect to the body, that physical _strength_ is the

same, whatever the cause by which it is produced. And yet we all

know that there is a most essential difference between that vigor of

nerve and muscle which is the result of the real and natural

exercise of the healthy organism, in the performance of its

legitimate functions, and that which comes from maddening artificial

stimulants. They may appear the same for the moment; and yet we know

that the one has an element of invigorating and _re-creating_ life;

the other has the seeds of death, and brings death into the human

microcosm with all its train of physical as well as spiritual woes.

And this suggests that idea in which we find the most interior

difference between true and false feeling. In the one the emotion is

sought for its own sake as an _end_. In the other it is the _means_

to a higher good. One seeks to save its life and loses it. The other

loses its life and finds it. The true benevolence is unconscious of

itself as an end, and through such unconsciousness attains to

substantial satisfaction. The spurious looks to nothing but the

luxury of its own emotion, and thus continually transmutes into

poison the very aliment on which it feeds. Like Milton's incestuous

monsters, so do the matricidal pleasures of artificial sentiment.

Into the womb

That bred them ever more return--

engendering, in the end, a fiercer want, and giving birth to a more

intolerable pain--

Hourly conceived

And hourly born with sorrow infinite.

There, too, we find the right notion of that word which would seem

so incapable of all strict definition--we mean the much-used and

much-abused term, _sentimentalism_. It differs from true feeling in

this, that it is a _feeling to feel_--or, for the sake of feeling--a

_feeling of one's own feelings_ (if we may use the strange

expression), instead of the woes and sufferings of others, which are

not strictly the _objects_, but only the _means_ of luxurious

excitement, to this introverted state of the affections. Hence,

while true benevolence ever goes forth in the freedom of its

unconsciousness, sentimentalism is ever most egotistical, ever

turning inward to gaze upon itself, and _feel itself_, and thus ever

more in the most rigorous and ignominious bondage.

The same position, had we time, might be taken in respect to what

may be styled false, or theatrical mirth. Even mirth, which, under

other circumstances, and when produced by other causes, might be an

innocent and healthful recreation, is here utterly spoiled, because

we know it to be all _acting_. It is all false; there is no reality

in it; there is no true merry heart there. To the right feeling,

there is even a thought of sadness in the spectacle, when we reflect

how often amid the wearisome repetition of what must be to him the

same stale buffoonery, the soul of the wretched actor may be

actually aching, and bitterly aching, beneath his comic mask.

Our argument might, perhaps, be charged with proving too much--with

invading the sacred domain of poetry--with condemning all works of

fiction and all reading, as well as acting, of plays. We would like

to dispose of these objections if we had time. In some respects, and

to a certain extent, their validity might be candidly admitted. In

others, we might make modifications and distinctions, drawing the

line, as we think we could, in accordance with the demands of right

reason, right faith, right taste, and right morals. But the limits

of our Editorial Table do not permit; and we, therefore, leave our

readers to draw this line for themselves, believing that, in so

doing, a sound moral sense, proceeding on the tests here laid down,

will easily distinguish all healthful and recreative reading

from those inherent evils that must ever belong to dramatic

representations.

Editor's Easy Chair.

"Ouf! ouf!"--The French have a funny way of writing a letter, as

well as of telling a story. For instance, our friend of the

_Courrier_, whose gossip we have time and again transmuted, with

some latitude of construction into our own noon-tide sentences,

commences one of his later epistles with the exclamation, "_Ouf!

ouf!_" "And this," says he, "is the best _resumé_ that I can give

you of the situation of Paris." It is a cry of distress, and of

lassitude, breaking out from the Parisian heart, over-burdened with

plenitude of pleasure; it is the re-action of the fêtes of May. How

many things in ten days! How much dust--cannon-smoke--fire--fury--Roman

candles--thunder--melodramas--and provincials! How much

theatre-going--dining out--spent francs--_demitasses_--and ennui!

It is no wonder that your true Parisian is troubled with the crowd

and uproar that the fêtes bring to Paris, and, above all, with the

uncouth hordes of banditti provincials. The New-Yorker or the

Philadelphian can look complacently upon the throngs that our

Eastern and Northern steamers disgorge upon the city, and upon the

thousand wagons of "Market-street;" for these, all of them, not only

bring their quota of money to his till, but they lend a voice and a

tread to the hurry and the noise in which, and by which, your

true-blooded American feels his fullest life.

But the Parisian--living by daily, methodic, quiet, uninterrupted

indulgence of his tastes and humors--looks harshly upon the stout

wool-growers and plethoric vineyard men, who elbow him out of the

choicest seats at the Theatre of the Palais Royal, and who break

down his appreciative chuckle at a stroke of wit, with their

immoderate guffaw. Then, the dresses of these provincials are a

perpetual eye-sore to his taste. Such coats! such hats! such canes!

The very sight of them makes misery for your habitual frequenter of

the _Maison d'or_, or of the _Café Anglais_.

Moreover, there is something in the very _insouciance_ of these

country-comers to Paris which provokes the citizen the more. What do

they care for their white bell-crowns of ten years ago? or what, for

marching and counter-marching the Boulevard, with a fat wife on one

arm, and a fat daughter on the other? What do they care for the

fashion of a dinner, as they call for a _bouillon_, followed with a

steak and onions, flanked by a melon, and wet with a deep bottle of

_Julienne premier_?

What do they care for any _mode_, or any proprieties of the Faubourg

St. Honoré, as they leer at the dancers of the _Bal Mabil_, or roar

once and again at the clown who figures at the _Estaminet-Café_ of

the Champs Elyssées?

In short, says our aggrieved friend, the letter-writer, they press

us, and torture us every where; they eat our bread, and drink our

wine, and tread on our toes, and crowd us from our seats, as if the

gay capital were made for them alone! Nor is the story unreal:

whoever has happened upon that mad French metropolis, in the days of

its _fête_ madness, can recall the long procession of burly and

gross provincials who swarm the streets and gardens, like the lice

in the Egypt of Pharaoh.

In the old kingly times, when fêtes were regal, and every

Frenchman gloated at the velvet panoply, worked over with golden

_fleurs-de-lis_, as they now gloat at the columns of their

Republican journals, their love for festal-days was well hit off in

an old comedy. The shopkeeper (in the play) says to his wife, "Take

care of the shop; I am going to see the king." And the wife

presently says to the chief clerk, "Take care of the shop; I am

going to see the king." And the clerk, so soon as the good woman is

fairly out of sight, says to the _garçon_, "Take care of the shop; I

am going to see the king." And the _garçon_ enjoins upon the dog to

"take care of the shop, as he is going to see the king." And the

dog, stealing his nose out at the door, leaves all in charge of the

parroquet, and goes to see the king!

The joke made a good laugh in those laughing days: nor is the

material for as good a joke wanting now. The prefect leaves business

with the sub-prefect, that he may go up to the Paris fête. The

sub-prefect leaves his care with some commissioner, that he may go

up to the Paris fête. And the commissioner, watching his chance,

steals away in his turn, and chalks upon the door of the prefecture,

"Gone to the fêtes of May."

All this, to be sure, is two months old, and belonged to that

festive season of the Paris year, which goes before the summer. Now,

if report speaks true, with provincials gone home, and the booths

along the Champs Elyssées struck, and the theatric stars escaped to

Belgium, or the Springs, the Parisian is himself again. He takes his

evening drive in the Bois de Boulogne; he fishes for invitations to

Meudon, or St. Cloud; he plots a descent upon Boulogne, or Aix la

Chapelle; he studies the summer fashions from his apartments on the

Boulevard de la Madeleine; he takes his river-bath by the bridge of

the Institute; he smokes his evening cigar under the trees by the

National Circus; and he speculates vaguely upon the imperial

prospects of his President, the Prince Louis.

Meantime, fresh English and Americans come thronging in by the

Northern road, and the Havre road, and the road from Strasbourg.

They cover every floor of every hotel and _maison garnie_ in the Rue

Rivoli. They buy up all the couriers and valets-de-place; they swarm

in the jewelry and the bronze shops of the Rue de la Paix; and they

call, in bad French, for every dish that graces the _carte du jour_

in the restaurants of the Palais Royal. They branch off toward the

Apennines and the Alps, in flocks; and, if report speak true, the

Americans will this year outnumber upon the mountains of Switzerland

both French and German travelers. Indeed, Geneva, and Zurich, and

Lucerne, are now discussed and brought into the map of tourists, as

thoughtlessly as, ten years since, they compared the charms of the

Blue Lick and the Sharon waters.

Look at it a moment: Ten days, under the Collins guidance, will land

a man in Liverpool. Three days more will give him a look at the

Tower, the Parks, Windsor Castle, Buckingham Palace, and Paternoster

Row; and on the fourth he may find himself swimming in a first-class

French car, on damask cushions, at forty miles the hour from

Boulogne to Paris. Five days in the capital will show him (specially

if he is free of service-money) the palaces of Versailles, the

Louvre, the park at St. Cloud, the church of Notre Dame, the

Madeleine, the Bourse, the Dead House, a score of balls, half as

many theatres, the pick of the shops, and the great Louis himself.

Three other summer days, allowing a ten hours' tramp over the

galleries and sombre grounds of Fontainebleau, will set him down, at

the door of "mine host" of the Hotel de l'Ecu, in the city of

Geneva, and he will brush the dews from his eyes in the morning,

within sight of the "blue, arrowy Rhone," and "placid Leman, and the

bald white peak of Mont Blanc." A Sunday in the Genevese church,

will rest his aching limbs, and give him hearing of such high

doctrine as comes from the lips of Merle d'Aubigné, and Monday will

drift him on _char-a-banc_ straight down through wooded

Sardinia--reading Coleridge's Hymn--into the marvelous valley of

Chamouny.

There, he may take breath before he goes up upon the Sea of Ice; and

afterward he may idle, on donkeys or his own stout feet, over such

mountain passes as will make Franconia memories tame, and boat it

upon the Lake of Lucerne; and dine at the White Swan of Frankfort,

and linger at Bingen, and drink Hock at Heidelberg; and chaffer with

Jean Maria Farina at Cologne, and measure the stairs of the belfry

at Antwerp, and toss in a cockle shell of a steamer across the

straits, and lay him down in his Collins berth one month from his

landing, a fresher and fuller man--with only six weeks cloven from

his summer, and a short "five hundred" lifted from his purse.

The very fancy of it all--so easy, and so quick-coming--makes our

blood beat in the office-chair, and tempts us strangely to fling

down the pen, and to book ourselves by the Arctic.

* * * * *

We happened the other day upon an old French picture of Washington,

which it may be worth while to render into passable English. It

comes from the writings of M. DE BROGLIE.

"I urged," he says, "M. de Rochambeau to present me, and the next

day was conducted by him to dine with the great general. He

received, most graciously, a letter from my father, and gave me a

pleasant welcome. The general is about forty-nine--tall, well-made,

and of elegant proportions. His face is much more agreeable than

generally represented: notwithstanding the fatigues of the last few

years, he seems still to possess all the agility and freshness of

youth.

"His expression is sweet and frank; his address rather cold, though

polished; his eye, somewhat pensive, is more observant than

flashing; and his look is full of dignified assurance. He guards

always a dignity of manner which forbids great familiarity, while it

seems to offend none. He seems modest, even to humility; yet he

accepts, kindly and graciously, the homage which is so freely

rendered him. His tone of voice is exceedingly low; and his

attention to what is addressed to him, so marked, as to make one

sure he has fully understood, though he should venture no reply.

Indeed this sort of circumspection is a noted trait of his

character.

"His courage is rather calm than brilliant, and shows itself rather

in the coolness of his decision, than in the vigor with which he

battles against odds.

"He usually dines in company with twenty or thirty of his officers;

his attention to them is most marked and courteous; and his dignity,

at table only, sometimes relapses into gayety. He lingers at dessert

for an hour or two, eating freely of nuts, and drinking wine with

his guests. I had the honor of interchanging several _toasts_ with

the general; among others, I proposed the health of the Marquis de

Lafayette. He accepted the sentiment with a very benevolent smile,

and was kind enough to offer, in turn, the health of my own family.

"I was particularly struck with the air of respect and of admiration

with which his officers uniformly treated General Washington."

M. de Broglie makes mention of the meeting of Washington and Gates,

after their unfortunate difference, and speaks in high praise of the

conduct of both. He furthermore suggests that the assignment of the

chief command of the army to General Greene was owing to a certain

feeling of jealousy which Washington entertained for the reputation

of Gates: a suggestion, which neither contemporaneous history, or

the relative merits of Greene and of Gates would confirm.

It is not a little singular how greedy we become to learn the most

trivial details of the private life of the men we admire. Who would

not welcome nowadays any _bona fide_ contemporaneous account of the

meals or dress of William Shakspeare, or of Francis Bacon? And what

a jewel of a spirit that would be, who would make some pleasant

letter-writer for the Tribune, the _medium_ of communicating to us

what colored coat Shakspeare wore when he wooed Ann Hathaway, and

how much wine he drank for the modeling of Jack Falstaff! Were there

no Boswells in those days, whose spirits might be coaxed into

communicative rappings about the king of the poets? We recommend the

matter, in all sincerity, to the Misses Media.

* * * * *

A French court-room is not unfrequently as "good as a play:" besides

which, the Paris reporters have a dainty way of working up the

infirmities of a weak wicked man into a most captivating story. They

dramatize, even to painting the grave nod of the judge; and will

work out a farce from a mere broken bargain about an ass!--as one

may see from this trial of Léonard Vidaillon.

Léonard Vidaillon, as brave a cooper as ever hammered a hoop, having

retired from business, bethought him of buying an equipage for his

family; but hesitated between the purchase of a pony or a donkey.

"A pony," said he, to himself, "is a graceful little beast, genteel,

_coquet_, and gives a man a 'certain air;' but on the other hand,

your pony is rather hard to keep, and costly to equip. The donkey

takes care of himself--eats every thing--wants no comb or brush;

but, unfortunately, is neither vivacious or elegant."

In the midst of this embarrassment, an old friend recommended to

him--a mule. With this idea flaming in his thought, Léonard ran over

all of Paris in search of a mule, and ended with finding, at the

stable of a worthy donkey-drover, a little mule of a year old--of

"fine complexion"--smaller than a horse--larger than a donkey--with

a lively eye--in short, such a charming little creature as bewitched

the cooper, and secured the sale.

The price was a hundred francs, it being agreed that the young mule

should have gratuitous nursing of its donkey-mother for three

months; at the expiration of which time our cooper should claim his

own.

The next scene opens in full court.

Léonard, the defendant, is explaining.

"Yes, your honor, I bought the mule, to be delivered at the end of

three months. At the end of three months I fell sick; I lay a-bed

twelve weeks; I drugged myself to death; I picked up on water-gruel;

I got on my legs; and the second day out I went after my little

mule."

DONKEY-MAN (being plaintiff).--The court will observe that three

months and twelve weeks make six months.

The Judge nods acquiescence.

LEONARD.--Agreed. They make six months. I went then after my little

mule, a delicate creature, not larger than a large ass, that I had

picked out expressly for my little wagon. I went, as I said, to see

my little mule. And what does the man show me? A great, yellow

jackass, high in the hips, with a big belly, that would be sure to

split the shafts of my carriage! I said to him, "M. Galoupeau, this

is not my little mule, and I sha'n't pay you."

GALOUPEAU (_plaintiff_).--And what did I say?

LEONARD.--You swore it was my mule.

GALOUPEAU.--I said better than that: I said I couldn't constrain the

nature of the beast, and hinder a little mule from growing large.

LEONARD.--But mine was a blond, and yours is yellow.

GALOUPEAU.--Simply another effect of nature! And I have seen a

little black ass foal turn white at three months old!

LEONARD.--Do you think I have filled casks so long, not to know that

red wine is red, and white wine, white.

GALOUPEAU.--I don't know. I don't understand the nature of wines;

but donkeys--yes.

JUDGE (_to the defendant_).--So you refuse to take the mule?

LEONARD.--I rather think so--a mule like a camel, and such a

ferocious character, that he came within an ace of taking my life!

JUDGE.--You will please to make good this point of the injuries

sustained.

LEONARD.--The thing is easy. This M. Galoupeau insisted that I

should take a look at his beast, and brought him out of the stable.

The animal made off like a mad thing, and came near killing all the

poultry. Then M. Galoupeau, who professes to know his habits,

followed him up to the bottom of the yard, spoke gently to him, and

after getting a hand upon his shoulder, called me up. As for myself,

I went up confidently. I came near the beast, and just as I was

about to reach out my hand for a gentle caress, the brute kicked me

in the stomach--such a kick!--Mon Dieu! but here, your Honor, is the

certificate--"twelve days a-bed; one hundred and fifty leeches." All

that for caressing the brute!

GALOUPEAU.--If you were instructed, M. Léonard, in the nature of

these beasts, you would understand that they never submit to any

flattery from behind; and you know very well that you approached him

by the tail.

Here two stable-boys were called to the stand, who testified that

Signor Léonard Vidaillon, late cooper, did approach their master's

jackass by the tail; and furthermore, that the mule (or jackass) was

ordinarily of a quiet and peaceable disposition. This being shown to

the satisfaction of the Court, and since it appeared that an

inexperience, arising out of ignorance of the nature of the beast,

had occasioned the injury to Signor Vidaillon, the case was decided

for the plaintiff. Poor Léonard was mulcted in the cost of the mule,

the costs of the suit, the cost of a hundred and fifty leeches, and

the cost of broader shafts to his family wagon.

We have entertained our reader with this report--first, to show how

parties to a French suit plead their own cause; and next, to show

how the French reporters render the cause into writing. The story is

headed in the French journal, like a farce--"A little mule will

grow."

* * * * *

As for the town, in these hot days of summer, it looks slumberous.

The hundreds who peopled the up-town walks with silks and plumes,

are gone to the beach of Newport, or the shady verandas of the

"United States." Even now, we will venture the guess, there are

scores of readers running over this page under the shadow of the

Saratoga colonnades, or in view of the broad valley of the Mohawk,

who parted from us last month in some cushioned _fauteuil_ of the

New York Avenues.

The down-town men wear an air of _ennui_, and slip uneasily through

the brick and mortar labyrinths of Maiden-lane and of John-street.

Brokers, even, long for their Sunday's recess--when they can steal

one breath of health and wideness at New Rochelle, or Rockaway.

Southerners, with nurses and children, begin to show themselves in

the neighborhood of the Union and Clarendon, and saunter through

our sunshine as if our sunshine were a bath of spring.

Fruits meantime are ripening in all our stalls; and it takes the

edge from the sultriness of the season to wander at sunrise, through

the golden and purple show of our Washington market. Most of all, to

such as are tied, by lawyer's tape or editorial pen, to the desks of

the city, does it bring a burst of country glow to taste the

firstlings of the country's growth, and to doat upon the garden

glories of the year--as upon so many testimonial clusters, brought

back from a land of Canaan.

And in this vein, we can not avoid noting and commending the

increasing love for flowers. Bouquets are marketable; they are

getting upon the stalls; they flank the lamb and the butter. Our

civilization is ripening into a sense of their uses and beauties.

They talk to us even now--(for a tenpenny bunch of roses is smiling

at us from our desk) of fields, fragrance, health, and wanton youth.

They take us back to the days when with urchin fingers we grappled

the butter-cup and the mountain daisy--days when we loitered by

violet banks, and loved to loiter--days when we loved the violets,

and loved to love; and they take us forward too--far forward to the

days that always seem coming, when flowers shall bless us again, and

be plucked again, and be loved again, and bloom around us, year

after year; and bloom over us, year after year!

* * * * *

The two great hinges of public chat are--just now--the rival

candidates, Generals Pierce and Scott; serving not only for the hot

hours of lunch under the arches of the Merchants' Exchange, but

toning the talk upon every up-bound steamer of the Hudson, and

giving their creak to the breezes of Cape May.

Poor Generals!--that a long and a worthy life should come to such

poor end as this. To be vilified in the journals, to be calumniated

with dinner-table abuse, or with worse flattery--to have their

religion, their morals, their courage, their temper, all brought to

the question;--to have their faces fly-specked in every hot shop of

a barber--to have their grandparents, and parents all served up in

their old clothes; to have their school-boy pranks ferreted out, and

every forgotten penny pitched into their eyes; to have their wine

measured by the glass, and their tears by the tumbler; to have their

names a bye-word, and their politics a reproach--this is the honor

we show to these most worthy candidates!

* * * * *

As a relief to the wearisome political chat, our city has just now

been blessed with Alboni; and it is not a little curious to observe

how those critics who were coy of running riot about Jenny Lind, are

lavishing their pent-up superlatives upon the new-comer. The odium

of praising nothing, it appears, they do not desire; and seize the

first opportunity to win a reputation for generosity. The truth is,

we suspect, that Alboni is a highly cultivated singer, with a voice

of southern sweetness, and with an air of most tempered

pleasantness; but she hardly brings the _prestige_ of that wide

benevolence, noble action, and _naïve_ courtesy, which made the

world welcome Jenny as a woman, before she had risked a note.

In comparing the two as artists, we shall not venture an opinion;

but we must confess to a strong liking for such specimen of

humanity, as makes its humanity shine through whatever art it

embraces. Such humanity sliding into song, slides through the song,

and makes the song an echo; such humanity reveling in painting,

makes the painting only a shadow on the wall. Every true artist

should be greater than his art; or else it is the art that makes

him great.

And while we are upon this matter of song, we take the liberty of

suggesting, in behalf of plain-spoken, and simple-minded people,

that musical criticism is nowadays arraying itself in a great

brocade of words, of which the fustian only is clear to common

readers. We can readily understand that the art of music, like other

arts, should have its technicalities of expression; but we can not

understand with what propriety those technicalities should be warped

into such notices, as are written professedly for popular

entertainment and instruction.

If, Messrs. Journalists, your musical critiques are intended solely

for the eye of connoisseurs, stick to your shady Italian; but if

they be intended for the enlightenment of such hungry outside

readers, as want to know, in plain English, how such or such a

concert went off, and in what peculiar way each artist excels, for

Heaven's sake, give us a taste again of old fashioned Saxon

expletive! He seems to us by far the greatest critic, who can carry

to the public mind the clearest and the most accurate idea of what

was sung, and of the way in which it was sung. It would seem,

however, that we are greatly mistaken; and that the palm of

excellence should lie with those, whose periods smack most

of the green-room, and cover up opinions with a profusion of

technicalities. We shall not linger here, however, lest we be

attacked in language we can not understand.

* * * * *

Among the novelties which have provoked their share of the boudoir

chit-chat, and which go to make our monthly digest of trifles

complete, may be reckoned the appearance of a company of trained

animals at the Astor Place Opera House. Their débût was modest and

maidenly; and could hardly have made an eddy in the talk, had not

the purveyors of that classic temple, entered an early protest

against the performance, as derogatory to the dignity of the place.

This difficulty, and the ensuing discussions, naturally led to a

comparison of the habits of the various animals, who are accustomed

to appear in that place, whether as spectators, or as actors. What

the judicial decision may have been respecting the matter, we are

not informed. Public opinion, however, seems to favor the conclusion

that the individuals composing the monkey troup would compare well,

even on the score of dignity, with very many habitués of the house;

and that the whole monkey tribe, being quite harmless and

inoffensive, should remain, as heretofore, the subjects of Christian

toleration, whether appearing on the bench (no offense to the

Judges) or the boards.

With this theatric note, to serve as a snapper to our long column of

gossip, we beg to yield place to that very coy lady--the Bride of

Landeck.

AN OLD GENTLEMAN'S LETTER.

"THE BRIDE OF LANDECK."

DEAR SIR--The small village of Landeck is situated in a very

beautiful spot near the river Inn, with a fine old castle to the

southeast, against the winds from which quarter it shelters the

greater part of the village--a not unnecessary screen; for easterly

winds in the Tyrol are very detestable. Indeed I know no country in

which they are any thing else, or where the old almanac lines are

not applicable--

"When the wind is in the east,

'Tis neither good for man or beast."

Some people, however, are peculiarly affected by the influence of

that wind; and they tell a story of Dr. Parr--for the truth of

which I will not vouch, but which probably has some foundation in

fact. When a young man, he is said to have had an attack of ague,

which made him dread the east wind as a pestilence. He had two

pupils at the time, gay lads, over whose conduct, as well as whose

studies, he exercised a very rigid superintendence. When they went

out to walk, Parr was almost sure to be with them, much to their

annoyance on many occasions. There were some exceptions, however;

and they remarked that these exceptions occurred when the wind was

easterly. Boys are very shrewd, and it did not escape the lads'

attention, that every day their tutor walked to the window, and

looked up at the weather-cock on the steeple of the little parish

church. Conferences were held between the young men; and a carpenter

consulted. A few days after, the wind was in the east, and the

Doctor suffered them to go out alone. The following day it was in

the east still. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday,

Saturday, all easterly wind--if the weather-cock might be believed.

Sunday, Parr went to church, and shivered all day. The next week it

was just the same thing. Never was such a spell of easterly wind.

Parr was miserable. But at the end of some five weeks, a friend, and

man of the world, came to visit him, with the common salutation

of--"A fine day, Doctor!"

"No day is a fine day, sir, with an easterly wind," said Parr, with

his usual acerbity.

"Easterly wind?" said his visitor, walking toward the window; "I

don't think the wind is east--yes it is, indeed."

"Ay, sir, and has been for these six weeks," answered Parr, sharply.

"I could tell it by my own sensations, without looking at the

weather-cock."

"Why, Doctor," answered the other, "the wind was west yesterday:

that I know; and I thought it was west to-day."

"Then you thought like a fool, sir," answered Parr. "A man who can

not tell when the wind is in the east, has no right to think at all.

Let him look at the weather-cock."

"But the weather-cock may be rusty," answered the other; "and your

weather-cock must be rusty if it pointed to the east yesterday; for

it blew pretty smartly from the west all day."

"Do you think I am a fool, sir: do you think I am a liar?" asked

Parr, angrily.

"No; but you may be mistaken, Doctor," replied the other. "Even

Solomon, as you know, made a mistake sometimes; and you are mistaken

now; and the weather-cock too. Look at the clouds: they are coming

rapidly from the west. If you would take my advice, you would look

to our friend there on the top of the steeple."

"I will, sir--I will this moment," replied Parr; and ringing the

bell violently, he ordered his servant to take the village carpenter

and a bottle of oil, and have the weather-cock examined and greased.

He and his visitor watched the whole proceeding from the window--the

bringing forth of the ladders, the making them fast with ropes, the

perilous ascent, and then the long operations which seemed much more

complicated than the mere process of greasing the rusty

weather-cock. "What can the fools be about?" said Parr. In the end,

however, the deed, whatever it was, was done; and the servant and

the carpenter descended, and came toward the house. By this time the

weather-cock had whirled round, pointing directly to the west, and

the Doctor asked eagerly, as soon as the men appeared. "Well,

sir--well: what prevented the vane from turning?"

"A large nail, sir," answered the man.

"I will never trust a weather-cock again," cried Parr.

"Nor your own sensations either, Doctor," said his friend, "unless

you are very sure they are right ones; for if you pin them to a

weather-cock, there may be people who will find it for their

interest to pin the weather-cock to the post."

The two poor pupils from that day forward lost their advantage; but

they had six weeks of fun out of it, and, like the fishes in the

Arabian tale, "were content."

There is an old proverb, that "Fancy is as good for a fool as

physic," and I believe the saying might be carried further still;

for there is such a thing as corporeal disease, depending entirely

upon the mind; and that with very wise men too. The effect of mental

remedies we all know, even in very severe and merely muscular

diseases. Whether Doctor Parr was cured of his aguish sensations or

not, I can not tell; but I have known several instances of mental

remedies applied with success; to say nothing of having actually

seen the incident displayed by old Bunbury's caricature of a

rheumatic man enabled to jump over a high fence by the presence of a

mad bull. I will give you one instance of a complete, though

temporary cure, performed upon a young lady by what I can only

consider mental agency. One of the daughters of a Roman Catholic

family, named V----, a very beautiful and interesting girl, had

entirely lost the use of her limbs for nearly three years, and was

obliged to be fed and tended like a child. Her mind was acute and

clear, however, and as at that time the celebrated Prince Hohenloe

was performing, by his prayers, some cures which seemed miraculous,

her father entered into correspondence with him, to see if any thing

could be done for the daughter. The distance of some thousand miles

lay between the Prince and the patient; but he undertook to pray and

say mass for her on a certain day, and at a certain hour, and

directed that mass should also be celebrated in the city where she

resided, exactly at the same moment. As the longitude of the two

places was very different, a great deal of fuss was made to

ascertain the precise time. All this excited her imagination a good

deal, and at the hour appointed the whole family went to mass,

leaving her alone, and in bed. On their return they found Miss

V----, who for years had not been able to stir hand or foot, up,

dressed, and in the drawing-room. For the time, she was perfectly

cured; but I have been told that she gradually fell back into the

same state as before.

Mental medicine does not always succeed, however; and once, in my

own case, failed entirely. When traveling in Europe, in the year

1825, I was attacked with very severe quartan fever. I was drugged

immensely between the paroxysms, and the physician conspired with my

friends to persuade me I was quite cured. They went so far as,

without my knowing it, to put forward a striking-clock that was on

the mantle-piece, and when the hour struck, at which the fit usually

seized me, without any appearance of its return, they congratulated

me on my recovery, and actually left me. Nevertheless, at the real

hour, the fever seized me again, and shook me nearly to pieces.

Neither is it that mental medicine sometimes fails; but it sometimes

operates in a most unexpected and disastrous manner; especially when

applied to mental disease; and I am rather inclined to believe, that

corporeal malady may often be best treated by mental means; mental

malady by corporeal means.