I was now rising rapidly, and by seven o'clock the barometer indicated

an altitude of no less than nine miles and a half. I began to find

great difficulty in drawing my breath. My head too was excessively

painful; and, having felt for some time a moisture about my cheeks, I

at length discovered it to be blood, which was oozing quite fast from

the drums of my ears. My eyes, also, gave me great uneasiness. Upon

passing the hand over them they seemed to have protruded from their

sockets in no inconsiderable degree, and all objects in the car, and

even the balloon itself appeared distorted to my vision. These

symptoms were more than I had expected, and occasioned me some alarm.

At this juncture, very imprudently and without consideration, I threw

out from the car three five pound pieces of ballast. The accelerated

rate of ascent thus obtained carried me too rapidly, and without

sufficient gradation, into a highly rarefied stratum of the

atmosphere, and the result had nearly proved fatal to my expedition

and to myself. I was suddenly seized with a spasm which lasted for

better than five minutes, and even when this, in a measure, ceased, I

could catch my breath only at long intervals, and in a gasping

manner--bleeding all the while copiously at the nose and ears, and

even slightly at the eyes. The pigeons appeared distressed in the

extreme, and struggled to escape; while the cat mewed piteously, and,

with her tongue hanging out of her mouth, staggered to and fro in the

car as if under the influence of poison. I now too late discovered the

great rashness I had been guilty of in discharging the ballast, and my

agitation was excessive. I anticipated nothing less than death, and

death in a few minutes. The physical suffering I underwent contributed

also to render me nearly incapable of making any exertion for the

preservation of my life. I had, indeed, little power of reflection

left, and the violence of the pain in my head seemed to be greatly on

the increase. Thus I found that my senses would shortly give way

altogether, and I had already clutched one of the valve ropes with the

view of attempting a descent, when the recollection of the trick I had

played the three creditors, and the inevitable consequences to myself,

should I return to Rotterdam, operated to deter me for the moment. I

lay down in the bottom of the car, and endeavored to collect my

faculties. In this I so far succeeded as to determine upon the

experiment of losing blood. Having no lancet, however, I was

constrained to perform the operation in the best manner I was able,

and finally succeeded in opening a vein in my right arm, with the

blade of my penknife. The blood had hardly commenced flowing when I

experienced a sensible relief, and by the time I had lost about half a

moderate basin full, most of the worst symptoms {573} had abandoned me

entirely. I nevertheless did not think it expedient to attempt getting

on my feet immediately; but, having tied up my arm as well as I could,

I lay still for about a quarter of an hour. At the end of this time I

arose, and found myself freer from absolute _pain_ of any kind than I

had been during the last hour and a quarter of my ascension. The

difficulty of breathing, however, was diminished in a very slight

degree, and I found that it would soon be positively necessary to make

use of my condenser. In the meantime looking towards the cat, who was

again snugly stowed away upon my coat, I discovered, to my infinite

surprise, that she had taken the opportunity of my indisposition to

bring into light a litter of three little kittens. This was an

addition to the number of passengers on my part altogether unexpected;

but I was pleased at the occurrence. It would afford me a chance of

bringing to a kind of test the truth of a surmise, which, more than

anything else, had influenced me in attempting this ascension. I had

imagined that the _habitual_ endurance of the atmospheric pressure at

the surface of the earth was the cause, or nearly so, of the pain

attending animal existence at a distance above the surface. Should the

kittens be found to suffer uneasiness _in an equal degree with their

mother_, I must consider my theory in fault, but a failure to do so I

should look upon as a strong confirmation of my idea.

By eight o'clock I had actually attained an elevation of seventeen

miles above the surface of the earth. Thus it seemed to me evident

that my rate of ascent was not only on the increase, but that the

progression would have been apparent in a slight degree even had I not

discharged the ballast which I did. The pains in my head and ears

returned, at intervals, with violence, and I still continued to bleed

occasionally at the nose: but, upon the whole, I suffered much less

than might have been expected. I breathed, however, at every moment,

with more and more difficulty, and each inhalation was attended with a

troublesome spasmodic action of the chest. I now unpacked the

condensing apparatus, and got it ready for immediate use. The view of

the earth, at this period of my ascension, was beautiful indeed. To

the westward, the northward, and the southward, as far as I could see,

lay a boundless sheet of apparently unruffled ocean, which every

moment gained a deeper and a deeper tint of blue, and began already to

assume a slight appearance of convexity. At a vast distance to the

eastward, although perfectly discernible, extended the islands of

Great Britain, the entire Atlantic coasts of France and Spain, with a

small portion of the northern part of the continent of Africa. Of

individual edifices not a trace could be discovered, and the proudest

cities of mankind had utterly faded away from the face of the earth.

From the rock of Gibraltar, now dwindled into a dim speck, the dark

Mediterranean sea, dotted with shining islands as the heaven is dotted

with stars, spread itself out to the eastward as far as my vision

extended, until its entire mass of waters seemed at length to tumble

headlong over the abyss of the horizon, and I found myself listening

on tiptoe for the echoes of the mighty cataract.

The pigeons about this time seeming to undergo much suffering, I

determined upon giving them their liberty. I first untied one of

them--a beautiful gray-mottled pigeon--and placed him upon the rim of

the wicker-work. He appeared extremely uneasy, looking anxiously

around him, fluttering his wings, and making a loud cooing noise--but

could not be persuaded to trust himself from off the car. I took him

up at last, and threw him to about half a dozen yards from the

balloon. He made, however, no attempt to descend as I had expected,

but struggled with great vehemence to get back, uttering at the same

time very shrill and piercing cries. He at length succeeded in

regaining his former station on the rim--but had hardly done so when

his head dropped upon his breast, and he fell dead within the car. The

other one did not prove so unfortunate. To prevent his following the

example of his companion, and accomplishing a return, I threw him

downwards with all my force, and was pleased to find him continue his

descent, with great velocity, making use of his wings with ease, and

in a perfectly natural manner. In a very short time he was out of

sight, and I have no doubt he reached home in safety. Puss, who seemed

in a great measure recovered from her illness, now made a hearty meal

of the dead bird, and then went to sleep with much apparent

satisfaction. Her kittens were quite lively, and so far evinced not

the slightest sign of any uneasiness whatever.

At a quarter past eight, being able no longer to draw breath at all

without the most intolerable pain, I proceeded, forthwith, to adjust

around the car the apparatus belonging to the condenser. This

apparatus will require some little explanation, and your Excellencies

will please to bear in mind that my object, in the first place, was to

surround myself and car entirely with a barricade against the highly

rarefied atmosphere in which I was existing--with the intention of

introducing within this barricade, by means of my condenser, a

quantity of this same atmosphere sufficiently condensed for the

purposes of respiration. With this object in view I had prepared a

very strong, perfectly air-tight, but flexible gum-elastic bag. In

this bag, which was of sufficient dimensions, the entire car was in a

manner placed. That is to say, it (the bag) was drawn over the whole

bottom of the car--up its sides--and so on, along the outside of the

ropes, to the upper rim or hoop where the net-work is attached. Having

pulled the bag up in this way, and formed a complete enclosure on all

sides, and at bottom, it was now necessary to fasten up its top or

mouth, by passing its material over the hoop of the net-work--in other

words between the net-work and the hoop. But if the net-work was

separated from the hoop to admit this passage, what was to sustain the

car in the meantime? Now the net-work was not permanently fastened to

the hoop, but attached by a series of running loops or nooses. I

therefore undid only a few of these loops at one time, leaving the car

suspended by the remainder. Having thus inserted a portion of the

cloth forming the upper part of the bag, I re-fastened the loops--not

to the hoop, for that would have been impossible, since the cloth now

intervened,--but to a series of large buttons, affixed to the cloth

itself, about three feet below the mouth of the bag--the intervals

between the buttons having been made to correspond to the intervals

between the loops. This done, a few more of the loops were unfastened

from the rim, a farther portion of the cloth introduced, and the

disengaged loops then connected with their proper buttons. In this way

it was possible to insert the whole upper part of {574} the bag

between the net-work and the hoop. It is evident that the hoop would

now drop down within the car, while the whole weight of the car

itself, with all its contents, would be held up merely by the strength

of the buttons. This, at first sight, would seem an inadequate

dependence, but it was by no means so, for the buttons were not only

very strong in themselves, but so close together that a very slight

portion of the whole weight was supported by any one of them. Indeed

had the car and contents been three times heavier than they were, I

should not have been at all uneasy. I now raised up the hoop again

within the covering of gum-elastic, and propped it at nearly its

former height by means of three light poles prepared for the occasion.

This was done, of course, to keep the bag distended at the top, and to

preserve the lower part of the net-work in its proper situation. All

that now remained was to fasten up the mouth of the enclosure; and

this was readily accomplished by gathering the folds of the material

together, and twisting them up very tightly on the inside by means of

a kind of stationary tourniquet.

In the sides of the covering thus adjusted round the car, had been

inserted three circular panes of thick but clear glass, through which

I could see without difficulty around me in every horizontal

direction. In that portion of the cloth forming the bottom, was

likewise a fourth window, of the same kind, and corresponding with a

small aperture in the floor of the car itself. This enabled me to see

perpendicularly down, but having found it impossible to place any

similar contrivance overhead, on account of the peculiar manner of

closing up the opening there, and the consequent wrinkles in the

cloth, I could expect to see no objects situated directly in my

zenith. This, of course, was a matter of little consequence--for, had

I even been able to place a window at top, the balloon itself would

have prevented my making any use of it.

About a foot below one of the side windows was a circular opening

eight inches in diameter, and fitted with a brass rim adapted in its

inner edge to the windings of a screw. In this rim was screwed the

large tube of the condenser, the body of the machine being, of course,

within the chamber of gum-elastic. Through this tube a quantity of the

rare atmosphere circumjacent being drawn by means of a vacuum created

in the body of the machine, was thence discharged in a state of

condensation to mingle with the thin air already in the chamber. This

operation, being repeated several times, at length filled the chamber

with atmosphere proper for all the purposes of respiration. But in so

confined a space it would in a short time necessarily become foul, and

unfit for use from frequent contact with the lungs. It was then

ejected by a small valve at the bottom of the car--the dense air

readily sinking into the thinner atmosphere below. To avoid the

inconvenience of making a total _vacuum_ at any moment within the

chamber this purification was never accomplished all at once, but in a

gradual manner,--the valve being opened only for a few seconds, then

closed again, until one or two strokes from the pump of the condenser

had supplied the place of the atmosphere ejected. For the sake of

experiment I had put the cat and kittens in a small basket, and

suspended it outside the car to a button at the bottom, close by the

valve, through which I could feed them at any moment when necessary. I

did this at some little risk, and before closing the mouth of the

chamber, by reaching under the car with one of the poles

before-mentioned to which a hook had been attached.

By the time I had fully completed these arrangements and filled the

chamber as explained, it wanted only ten minutes of nine o'clock.

During the whole period of my being thus employed I endured the most

terrible distress from difficulty of respiration, and bitterly did I

repent the negligence, or rather fool-hardiness, of which I had been

guilty in putting off to the very last moment a matter of so much

importance. But having at length accomplished it, I soon began to reap

the benefit of my invention. Once again I breathed with perfect

freedom and ease--and indeed why should I not? I was also agreeably

surprised to find myself, in a great measure, relieved from the

violent pains which had hitherto tormented me. A slight headach,

accompanied with a sensation of fulness or distension about the

wrists, the ancles, and the throat, was nearly all of which I had now

to complain. Thus it seemed evident that a greater part of the

uneasiness attending the removal of atmospheric pressure had actually

_worn off_, as I had expected, and that much of the pain endured for

the last two hours should have been attributed altogether to the

effects of a deficient respiration.

At twenty minutes before nine o'clock--that is to say--a short time

prior to my closing up the mouth of the chamber, the mercury attained

its limit, or ran down, in the barometer, which, as I mentioned

before, was one of an extended construction. It then indicated an

altitude on my part of 132000 feet, or five and twenty miles, and I

consequently surveyed at that time an extent of the earth's area

amounting to no less than the three-hundred-and-twentieth part of its

entire superficies. At nine o'clock I had again entirely lost sight of

land to the eastward, but not before I became fully aware that the

balloon was drifting rapidly to the N. N. W. The convexity of the

ocean beneath me was very evident indeed--although my view was often

interrupted by the masses of cloud which floated to and fro. I

observed now that even the lightest vapors never rose to more than ten

miles above the level of the sea.

At half past nine I tried the experiment of throwing out a handful of

feathers through the valve. They did not float as I had expected--but

dropped down perpendicularly, like a bullet, _en masse_, and with the

greatest velocity--being out of sight in a very few seconds. I did not

at first know what to make of this extraordinary phenomenon: not being

able to believe that my rate of ascent had, of a sudden, met with so

prodigious an acceleration. But it soon occurred to me that the

atmosphere was now far too rare to sustain even the feathers--that

they actually fell, as they appeared to do, with great rapidity--and

that I had been surprised by the united velocities of their descent

and my own elevation.

By ten o'clock I found that I had very little to occupy my immediate

attention. Affairs went on swimmingly, and I believed the balloon to

be going upwards with a speed increasing momentarily, although I had

no longer any means of ascertaining the progression of the increase. I

suffered no pain or uneasiness of any kind, and enjoyed better spirits

than I had at any period {575} since my departure from Rotterdam,

busying myself now in examining the state of my various apparatus, and

now in regenerating the atmosphere within the chamber. This latter

point I determined to attend to at regular intervals of forty minutes,

more on account of the preservation of my health, than from so

frequent a renovation being absolutely necessary. In the meanwhile I

could not help making anticipations. Fancy revelled in the wild and

dreamy regions of the moon. Imagination, feeling herself for once

unshackled, roamed at will among the ever-changing wonders of a

shadowy and unstable land. Now there were hoary and time-honored

forests, and craggy precipices, and waterfalls tumbling with a loud

noise into abysses without a bottom. Then I came suddenly into still

noon-day solitudes where no wind of heaven ever intruded, and where

vast meadows of poppies, and slender, lily-looking flowers spread

themselves out a weary distance, all silent and motionless forever.

Then again I journeyed far down away into another country where it was

all one dim and vague lake, with a boundary-line of clouds. And out of

this melancholy water arose a forest of tall eastern trees, like a

wilderness of dreams. And I bore in mind that the shadows of the trees

which fell upon the lake remained not on the surface where they

fell--but sunk slowly and steadily down, and commingled with the

waves, while from the trunks of the trees other shadows were

continually coming out, and taking the place of their brothers thus

entombed. "This then," I said thoughtfully, "is the very reason why

the waters of this lake grow blacker with age, and more melancholy as

the hours run on." But fancies such as these were not the sole

possessors of my brain. Horrors of a nature most stern and most

appaling would too frequently obtrude themselves upon my mind, and

shake the innermost depths of my soul with the bare supposition of

their possibility. Yet I would not suffer my thoughts for any length

of time to dwell upon these latter speculations, rightly judging the

real and palpable dangers of the voyage sufficient for my undivided

attention.

At five o'clock P.M. being engaged in regenerating the atmosphere

within the chamber, I took that opportunity of observing the cat and

kittens through the valve. The cat herself appeared to suffer again

very much, and I had no hesitation in attributing her uneasiness

chiefly to a difficulty in breathing--but my experiment with the

kittens had resulted very strangely. I had expected of course to see

them betray a sense of pain, although in a less degree than their

mother; and this would have been sufficient to confirm my opinion

concerning the habitual endurance of atmospheric pressure. But I was

not prepared to find them, upon close examination, evidently enjoying

a high degree of health, breathing with the greatest ease and perfect

regularity, and evincing not the slightest sign of any uneasiness

whatever. I could only account for all this by extending my theory,

and supposing that the highly rarefied atmosphere around might perhaps

not be, as I had taken for granted, chemically insufficient for the

purposes of life, and that a person born in such a medium might

possibly be unaware of any inconvenience attending its inhalation,

while, upon removal to the denser strata near the earth, he might

endure tortures of a similar nature to those I had so lately

experienced. It has since been to me a matter of deep regret that an

awkward accident at this time occasioned me the loss of my little

family of cats, and deprived me of the insight into this matter which

a continued experiment might have afforded. In passing my hand through

the valve with a cup of water for the old puss, the sleeve of my shirt

became entangled in the loop which sustained the basket, and thus, in

a moment, loosened it from the button. Had the whole actually vanished

into air it could not have shot from my sight in a more abrupt and

instantaneous manner. Positively there could not have intervened the

tenth part of a second between the disengagement of the basket and its

absolute and total disappearance with all that it contained. My good

wishes followed it to the earth, but, of course, I had no hope that

either cat or kittens would ever live to tell the tale of their

misfortune.

At six o'clock I perceived a great portion of the earth's visible area

to the eastward involved in thick shadow, which continued to advance

with great rapidity until, at five minutes before seven, the whole

surface in view was enveloped in the darkness of night. It was not,

however, until long after this time that the rays of the setting sun

ceased to illumine the balloon; and this circumstance, although of

course fully anticipated, did not fail to give me an infinite deal of

pleasure. It was evident that, in the morning, I should behold the

rising luminary many hours at least before the citizens of Rotterdam,

in spite of their situation so much farther to the eastward, and thus,

day after day, in proportion to the height ascended, would I enjoy the

light of the sun for a longer and a longer period. I now determined to

keep a journal of my passage, reckoning the days from one to

twenty-four hours continuously, without taking into consideration the

intervals of darkness.

At ten o'clock, feeling sleepy, I determined to lie down for the rest

of the night--but here a difficulty presented itself, which, obvious

as it may appear, had totally escaped my attention up to the very

moment of which I am now speaking. If I went to sleep as I proposed,

how could the atmosphere in the chamber be regenerated in the interim?

To breathe it for more than an hour, at the farthest, would be a

matter of impossibility; or if even this term could be extended to an

hour and a quarter, the most ruinous consequences might ensue. The

consideration of this dilemma gave me no little disquietude, and it

will hardly be believed that, after the dangers I had undergone, I

should look upon this business in so serious a light, as to give up

all hope of accomplishing my ultimate design, and finally make up my

mind to the necessity of a descent. But this hesitation was only

momentary. I reflected that man is the veriest slave of custom--and

that many points in the routine of his existence are deemed

_essentially_ important, which are only so _at all_ by his having

rendered them habitual. It was very certain that I could not do

without sleep--but I might easily bring myself to feel no

inconvenience from being awakened at regular intervals of an hour

during the whole period of my repose. It would require but five

minutes at most, to regenerate the atmosphere in the fullest manner,

and the only real difficulty was to contrive a method of arousing

myself at the proper moment for so doing. But this was a question

which I am willing to confess, occasioned me no little trouble in its

solution. {576} To be sure, I had heard of the student who, to prevent

his falling asleep over his books, held in one hand a ball of copper,

the din of whose descent into a basin of the same metal on the floor

beside his chair, served effectually to startle him up, if, at any

moment, he should be overcome with drowsiness. My own case, however,

was very different indeed, and left me no room for any similar

idea--for I did not wish to keep awake, but to be aroused from slumber

at regular intervals of time. I at length hit upon the following

expedient, which, simple as it may seem, was hailed by me, at the

moment of discovery, as an invention fully equal to that of the

telescope, the steam-engine, or the art of printing itself.

It is necessary to premise that the balloon, at the elevation now

attained, continued its course upwards with an even and undeviating

ascent, and the car consequently followed with a steadiness so perfect

that it would have been impossible to detect in it the slightest

vacillation whatever. This circumstance favored me greatly in the

project I now determined to adopt. My supply of water had been put on

board in kegs containing five gallons each, and ranged very securely

around the interior of the car. I unfastened one of these--took two

ropes, and tied them tightly across the rim of the wicker-work from

one side to the other, placing them about a foot apart and parallel,

so as to form a kind of shelf, upon which I placed the keg and

steadied it in a horizontal position. About eight inches immediately

below these ropes, and four feet from the bottom of the car, I

fastened another shelf--but made of thin plank, being the only similar

piece of wood I had. Upon this latter shelf, and exactly beneath one

of the rims of the keg a small earthen pitcher was deposited. I now

bored a hole in the end of the keg over the pitcher, and fitted in a

plug of soft wood, cut in a tapering or conical shape. This plug I

pushed in or pulled out, as might happen, until, after a few

experiments it arrived at that exact degree of tightness, at which the

water oozing from the hole, and falling into the pitcher below, should

fill the latter to the brim in the period of sixty minutes. This, of

course, was a matter briefly and easily ascertained by noticing the

proportion of the pitcher filling in any given time. Having arranged

all this, the rest of the plan is obvious. My bed was so contrived

upon the floor of the car, as to bring my head, in lying down,

immediately below the mouth of the pitcher. It was evident, that, at

the expiration of an hour, the pitcher, getting full, would be forced

to run over, and to run over at the mouth, which was somewhat lower

than the rim. It was also evident that the water, thus falling from a

height of better than four feet, could not do otherwise than fall upon

my face, and that the sure consequence would be, to waken me up

instantaneously, even from the soundest slumber in the world.

It was fully eleven by the time I had completed these arrangements,

and I immediately betook myself to bed with full confidence in the

efficiency of my invention. Nor in this matter was I disappointed.

Punctually every sixty minutes was I aroused by my trusty chronometer,

when, having emptied the pitcher into the bung-hole of the keg, and

performed the duties of the condenser, I retired again to bed. These

regular interruptions to my slumber caused me even less discomfort

than I had anticipated, and when I finally arose for the day it was

seven o'clock, and the sun had attained many degrees above the line of

my horizon.

_April 3d_. I found the balloon at an immense height indeed, and the

earth's apparent convexity increased in a material degree. Below me in

the ocean lay a cluster of black specks, which undoubtedly were

islands. Far away to the northward I perceived a thin, white, and

exceedingly brilliant line or streak on the edge of the horizon, and I

had no hesitation in supposing it to be the southern disk of the ices

of the Polar sea. My curiosity was greatly excited, for I had hopes of

passing on much farther to the north, and might possibly, at some

period, find myself placed directly above the Pole itself. I now

lamented that my great elevation would, in this case, prevent my

taking as accurate a survey as I could wish. Much however might be

ascertained. Nothing else of an extraordinary nature occurred during

the day. My apparatus all continued in good order, and the balloon

still ascended without any perceptible vacillation. The cold was

intense, and obliged me to wrap up closely in an overcoat. When

darkness came over the earth, I betook myself to bed, although it was

for many hours afterwards broad daylight all around my immediate

situation. The water-clock was punctual in its duty, and I slept until

next morning soundly--with the exception of the periodical

interruption.

_April 4th_. Arose in good health and spirits, and was astonished at

the singular change which had taken place in the appearance of the

sea. It had lost, in a great measure, the deep tint of blue it had

hitherto worn, being now of a grayish white, and of a lustre dazzling

to the eye. The islands were no longer visible--whether they had

passed down the horizon to the southeast, or whether my increasing

elevation had left them out of sight, it is impossible to say. I was

inclined however, to the latter opinion. The rim of ice to the

northward, was growing more and more apparent. Cold by no means so

intense. Nothing of importance occurred, and I passed the day in

reading--having taken care to supply myself with books.

_April 5th_. Beheld the singular phenomenon of the sun rising while

nearly the whole visible surface of the earth continued to be involved

in darkness. In time, however, the light spread itself over all, and I

again saw the line of ice to the northward. It was now very distinct

and appeared of a much darker hue than the waters of the ocean. I was

evidently approaching it, and with great rapidity. Fancied I could

again distinguish a strip of land to the eastward--and one also to the

westward--but could not be certain. Weather moderate. Nothing of any

consequence happened during the day. Went early to bed.

_April 6th_. Was surprised at finding the rim of ice at a very

moderate distance, and an immense field of the same material

stretching away off to the horizon in the north. It was evident that

if the balloon held its present course, it would soon arrive above the

Frozen Ocean, and I had now little doubt of ultimately seeing the

Pole. During the whole of the day I continued to near the ice. Towards

night the limits of my horizon very suddenly and materially increased,

owing undoubtedly to the earth's form being that of an oblate

spheroid, and my arriving above the flattened regions {577} in the

vicinity of the Arctic circle. When darkness at length overtook me I

went to bed in great anxiety, fearing to pass over the object of so

much curiosity when I should have no opportunity of observing it.

_April 7th_. Arose early, and, to my great joy, at length beheld what

there could be no hesitation in supposing the northern Pole itself. It

was there, beyond a doubt, and immediately beneath my feet--but, alas!

I had now ascended to so vast a distance that nothing could with

accuracy be discerned. Indeed, to judge from the progression of the

numbers indicating my various altitudes respectively at different

periods, between six A.M. on the second of April, and twenty minutes

before nine A.M. of the same day, (at which time the barometer ran

down,) it might be fairly inferred that the balloon had now, at four

o'clock in the morning of April the seventh, reached a height of _not

less_ certainly than 7254 miles above the surface of the sea. This

elevation may appear immense, but the estimate upon which it is

calculated gave a result in all probability far inferior to the truth.

At all events I undoubtedly beheld the whole of the earth's major

diameter--the entire northern hemisphere lay beneath me like a chart

orthographically projected--and the great circle of the equator itself

formed the boundary line of my horizon. Your Excellencies may however,

readily imagine that the confined regions hitherto unexplored within

the limits of the Arctic circle, although situated directly beneath

me, and therefore seen without any appearance of being foreshortened,

were still, in themselves, comparatively too diminutive, and at too

great a distance from the point of sight to admit of any very accurate

examination. Nevertheless what could be seen was of a nature singular

and exciting. Northwardly from that huge rim before mentioned, and

which, with slight qualification may be called the limit of human

discovery in these regions, one unbroken, or nearly unbroken sheet of

ice continues to extend. In the first few degrees of this its

progress, its surface is very sensibly flattened--farther on depressed

into a plane--and finally, becoming _not a little concave_, it

terminates at the Pole itself in a circular centre, sharply defined,

whose apparent diameter subtended at the balloon an angle of about

sixty-five seconds; and whose dusky hue, varying in intensity, was, at

all times darker than any other spot upon the visible hemisphere, and

occasionally deepened into the most absolute and impenetrable

blackness. Farther than this little could be ascertained. By twelve

o'clock the circular centre had materially decreased in circumference,

and by seven P.M. I lost sight of it entirely--the balloon passing

over the western limb of the ice, and floating away rapidly in the

direction of the equator.

_April 8th_. Found a sensible diminution in the earth's apparent

diameter, besides a material alteration in its general color and

appearance. The whole visible area partook in different degrees of a

tint of pale yellow, and in some portions had acquired a brilliancy

even painful to the eye. My view downwards was also considerably

impeded by the dense atmosphere in the vicinity of the surface being

loaded with clouds between whose masses I could only now and then

obtain a glimpse of the earth itself. This difficulty of direct vision

had troubled me more or less for the last forty-eight hours--but my

present enormous elevation brought closer together, as it were, the

floating bodies of vapor, and the inconvenience became, of course,

more and more palpable in proportion to my ascent. Nevertheless I

could easily perceive that the balloon now hovered above the range of

great lakes in the continent of North America, and was holding a

course due south which would soon bring me to the tropics. This

circumstance did not fail to give me the most heartfelt satisfaction,

and I hailed it as a happy omen of ultimate success. Indeed the

direction I had hitherto taken had filled me with uneasiness, for it

was evident that, had I continued it much longer, there would have

been no possibility of my arriving at the moon at all, whose orbit is

inclined to the ecliptic at only the small angle of 5°, 8', 48".

_April 9th_. To-day, the earth's diameter was greatly diminished, and

the color of the surface assumed hourly a deeper tint of yellow. The

balloon kept steadily on her course to the southward, and arrived at

nine P.M. over the northern edge of the Mexican gulf.

_April 10th_. I was suddenly aroused from slumber, about five o'clock

this morning, by a loud, crackling, and terrific sound, for which I

could in no manner account. It was of very brief duration, but, while

it lasted, resembled nothing in the world of which I had any previous

experience. It is needless to say, that I became excessively alarmed,

having, in the first instance, attributed the noise to the bursting of

the balloon. I examined all my apparatus, however, with great

attention, and could discover nothing out of order. Spent a great part

of the day in meditating upon an occurrence so extraordinary, but

could find no means whatever of accounting for it. Went to bed

dissatisfied, and in a pitiable state of anxiety and agitation.

_April 11th_. Found a startling diminution in the apparent diameter of

the earth, and a considerable increase, now observable for the first

time, in that of the moon itself, which wanted only a few days of

being full. It now required long and excessive labor to condense

within the chamber sufficient atmospheric air for the sustenance of

life.

_April 12th_. A singular alteration took place in regard to the

direction of the balloon, and although fully anticipated, afforded me

the most unequivocal delight. Having reached, in its former course,

about the twentieth parallel of southern latitude, it turned off

suddenly at an acute angle to the eastward, and thus proceeded

throughout the day, keeping nearly, if not altogether, _in the exact

plane of the lunar ellipse_. What was worthy of remark, a very

perceptible vacillation in the car was a consequence of this change of

route--a vacillation which prevailed, in a more or less degree, for a

period of many hours.

_April 13th_. Was again very much alarmed by a repetition of the loud,

crackling noise which terrified me on the tenth. Thought long upon the

subject, but was unable to form any satisfactory conclusion. Great

decrease in the earth's apparent diameter which now subtended from the

balloon an angle of very little more than twenty-five degrees. The

moon could not be seen at all, being nearly in my zenith. I still

continued in the plane of the ellipse, but made little progress to the

eastward.

_April 14th_. Extremely rapid decrease in the diameter of the earth.

To-day I became strongly impressed {578} with the idea, that the

balloon was now actually running up the line of apsides to the point

of perigee--in other words, holding the direct course which would

bring it immediately to the moon in that part of its orbit, the

nearest to the earth. The moon itself was directly over-head, and

consequently hidden from my view. Great and long-continued labor

necessary for the condensation of the atmosphere.

_April 15th_. Not even the outlines of continents and seas could now

be traced upon the earth with anything approaching to distinctness.

About twelve o'clock I became aware, for the third time, of that

unearthly and appalling sound which had so astonished me before. It

now, however, continued for some moments, and gathered horrible

intensity as it continued. At length, while stupified and

terror-stricken I stood in expectation of, I know not what hideous

destruction, the car vibrated with excessive violence, and a gigantic

and flaming mass of some material which I could not distinguish, came

with the voice of a thousand thunders, roaring and booming by the

balloon. When my fears and astonishment had in some degree subsided, I

had little difficulty in supposing it to be some mighty volcanic

fragment ejected from that world to which I was so rapidly

approaching, and, in all probability, one of that singular class of

substances occasionally picked up on the earth, and termed meteoric

stones for want of a better appellation.

_April 16th_. To-day, looking upwards as well as I could, through each

of the side windows alternately, I beheld, to my great delight, a very

small portion of the moon's disk protruding, as it were, on all sides

beyond the huge circumference of the balloon. My agitation was

extreme--for I had now little doubt of soon reaching the end of my

perilous voyage. Indeed the labor now required by the condenser had

increased to a most oppressive degree, and allowed me scarcely any

respite from exertion. Sleep was a matter nearly out of the question.

I became quite ill, and my frame trembled with exhaustion. It was

impossible that human nature could endure this state of intense

suffering much longer. During the now brief interval of darkness a

meteoric stone again passed in my vicinity, and the frequency of these

phenomena began to occasion me much anxiety and apprehension. The

consequence of a concussion with any one of them, would have been

inevitable destruction to me and my balloon.

_April 17th_. This morning proved an epoch in my voyage. It will be

remembered that, on the thirteenth, the earth subtended an angular

breadth of twenty-five degrees. On the fourteenth, this had greatly

diminished--on the fifteenth, a still more rapid decrease was

observable--and on retiring for the night of the sixteenth I had

noticed an angle of no more than about seven degrees and fifteen

minutes. What, therefore, must have been my amazement on awakening

from a brief and disturbed slumber on the morning of this day, the

seventeenth, at finding the surface beneath me so suddenly and

wonderfully _augmented_ in volume as to subtend no less than

thirty-nine degrees in apparent angular diameter! I was thunderstruck.

No words--no earthly expression can give any adequate idea of the

extreme--the absolute horror and astonishment with which I was seized,

possessed, and altogether overwhelmed. My knees tottered beneath

me--my teeth chattered--my hair started up on end. "The balloon then

had actually burst"--these were the first tumultuous ideas which

hurried through my mind--"the balloon had positively burst. I was

falling--falling--falling--with the most intense, the most impetuous,

the most unparalleled velocity. To judge from the immense distance

already so quickly passed over, it could not be more than ten minutes,

at the farthest, before I should meet the surface of the earth, and be

hurled into annihilation." But at length reflection came to my relief.

I paused--I considered--and I began to doubt. The matter was

impossible. I could not in any reason have so rapidly come down. There

was some mistake. Not the red thunderbolt itself could have so

impetuously descended. Besides, although I was evidently approaching

the surface below me, it was with a speed by no means commensurate

with the velocity I had at first so horribly conceived. This

consideration served to calm the perturbation of my mind, and I

finally succeeded in regarding the phenomenon in its proper point of

view. In fact amazement must have fairly deprived me of my senses when

I could not see the vast difference, in appearance, between the

surface below me, and the surface of my mother earth. The latter was

indeed over my head, and completely hidden by the balloon, while the

moon--the moon itself in all its glory--lay beneath me, and at my

feet.

The stupor and surprise produced in my mind by this extraordinary

change in the posture of affairs was perhaps, after all, that part of

the adventure least susceptible of explanation. For the

_bouleversement_ in itself was not only natural and inevitable, but

had been long actually anticipated as a circumstance to be expected

whenever I should arrive at that exact point of my voyage where the

attraction of the planet should be superseded by the attraction of the

satellite--or, more precisely, where the gravitation of the balloon

towards the earth should be less powerful than its gravitation towards

the moon. To be sure I arose from a sound slumber with all my senses

in confusion to the contemplation of a very startling phenomenon, and

one which, although expected, was not expected at the moment. The

revolution itself must, of course, have taken place in an easy and

gradual manner, and it is by no means clear that, had I even been

awake at the time of the occurrence, I should have been made aware of

it by any _internal_ evidence of an inversion--that is to say by any

inconvenience or disarrangement either about my person or about my

apparatus.

It is almost needless to say that upon coming to a due sense of my

situation, and emerging from the terror which had absorbed every

faculty of my soul, my attention was, in the first place, wholly

directed to the contemplation of the general physical appearance of

the moon. It lay beneath me like a chart, and although I judged it to

be still at no inconsiderable distance, the indentures of its surface

were defined to my vision with a most striking and altogether

unaccountable distinctness. The entire absence of ocean or sea, and

indeed of any lake or river, or body of water whatsoever, struck me,

at the first glance, as the most extraordinary feature in its

geological condition. Yet, strange to say! I beheld vast level regions

of a character decidedly alluvial--although by far the greater portion

of the hemisphere in sight was covered with innumerable volcanic {579}

mountains, conical in shape, and having more the appearance of

artificial than of natural protuberances. The highest among them does

not exceed three and three quarter miles in perpendicular

elevation--but a map of the volcanic districts of the Campi Phlegræi

would afford to your Excellencies a better idea of their general

surface than any unworthy description I might think proper to attempt.

The greater part of them were in a state of evident eruption, and gave

me fearfully to understand their fury and their power by the repeated

thunders of the miscalled meteoric stones which now rushed upwards by

the balloon with a frequency more and more appalling.

_April 18th_. To-day I found an enormous increase in the moon's

apparent bulk, and the evidently accelerated velocity of my descent

began to fill me with alarm. It will be remembered that, in the

earliest stage of my speculations upon the possibility of a passage to

the moon, the existence in its vicinity of an atmosphere dense in

proportion to the bulk of the planet had entered largely into my

calculations--this too in spite of many theories to the contrary, and,

it may be added, in spite of the positive evidence of our senses. Upon

the resistance, or more properly, upon the support of this atmosphere,

existing in the state of density imagined, I had, of course, entirely

depended for the safety of my ultimate descent. Should I then, after

all, prove to have been mistaken, I had in consequence nothing better

to expect as a _finale_ to my adventure than being dashed into atoms

against the rugged surface of the satellite. And indeed I had now

every reason to be terrified. My distance from the moon was

comparatively trifling, while the labor required by the condenser was

diminished not at all, and I could discover no indication whatever of

a decreasing rarity in the air.

_April 19th_. This morning, to my great joy, about nine o'clock, the

surface of the moon being frightfully near, and my apprehensions

excited to the utmost, the pump of my condenser at length gave evident

tokens of an alteration in the atmosphere. By ten I had reason to

believe its density considerably increased. By eleven very little

labor was necessary at the apparatus--and at twelve o'clock, with some

hesitation, I ventured to unscrew the tourniquet, when, finding no

inconvenience from having done so, I finally threw open the

gum-elastic chamber, and unrigged it from around the car. As might

have been expected, spasms and violent headach were the immediate

consequence of an experiment so precipitate and full of danger. But

these and other difficulties attending respiration, as they were by no

means so great as to put me in peril of my life, I determined to

endure as I best could, in consideration of my leaving them behind me

momentarily in my approach to the denser strata near the moon. This

approach, however, was still impetuous in the extreme, and it soon

became alarmingly certain that, although I had probably not been

deceived in the expectation of an atmosphere dense in proportion to

the mass of the satellite, still I had been wrong in supposing this

density, even at the surface, at all adequate to the support of the

great weight contained in the car of my balloon. Yet this _should_

have been the case, and in an equal degree as at the surface of the

earth, the actual gravity of bodies at either planet being in the

exact ratio of their atmospheric condensation. That it _was not_ the

case however my precipitous downfall gave testimony enough--why it was

not so, can only be explained by a reference to those possible

geological disturbances to which I have formerly alluded. At all

events I was now close upon the planet, and coming down with most

terrible impetuosity. I lost not a moment accordingly in throwing

overboard first my ballast, then my water-kegs, then my condensing

apparatus and gum-elastic chamber, and finally every individual

article within the car. But it was all to no purpose. I still fell

with horrible rapidity, and was now not more than half a mile at

farthest from the surface. As a last resource, therefore, having got

rid of my coat, hat, and boots, I cut loose from the balloon _the car

itself_, which was of no inconsiderable weight, and thus, clinging

with both hands to the hoop of the net-work, I had barely time to

observe that the whole country as far as the eye could reach was

thickly interspersed with diminutive habitations, ere I tumbled

headlong into the very heart of a fantastical-looking city, and into

the middle of a vast crowd of ugly little people, who none of them

uttered a single syllable, or gave themselves the least trouble to

render me assistance, but stood, like a parcel of idiots, grinning in

a ludicrous manner, and eyeing me and my balloon askant with their

arms set a-kimbo. I turned from them in contempt, and gazing upwards

at the earth so lately left, and left perhaps forever, beheld it like

a huge, dull, copper shield, about two degrees in diameter, fixed

immoveably in the heavens overhead, and tipped on one of its edges

with a crescent border of the most brilliant gold. No traces of land

or water could be discovered, and the whole was clouded with variable

spots, and belted with tropical and equatorial zones.

Thus, may it please your Excellencies, after a series of great

anxieties, unheard of dangers, and unparalleled escapes, I had, at

length, on the nineteenth day of my departure from Rotterdam, arrived

in safety at the conclusion of a voyage undoubtedly the most

extraordinary, and the most momentous ever accomplished, undertaken,

or conceived by any denizen of earth. But my adventures yet remain to

be related. And indeed your Excellencies may well imagine that after a

residence of five years upon a planet not only deeply interesting in

its own peculiar character, but rendered doubly so by its intimate

connection, in capacity of satellite, with the world inhabited by man,

I may have intelligence for the private ear of the States' College of

Astronomers of far more importance than the details, however

wonderful, of the mere _voyage_ which so happily concluded. This is,

in fact, the case. I have much--very much which it would give me the

greatest pleasure to communicate. I have much to say of the climate of

the planet--of its wonderful alternations of heat and cold--of

unmitigated and burning sunshine for one fortnight, and more than

polar severity of winter for the next--of a constant transfer of

moisture, by distillation _in vacuo_, from the point beneath the sun

to the point the farthest from it--of a variable zone of running

water--of the people themselves--of their manners, customs, and

political institutions--of their peculiar physical construction--of

their ugliness--of their want of ears, those useless appendages in an

atmosphere so peculiarly modified as to be insufficient for the

conveyance of any but the loudest sounds--of their consequent

ignorance of the use and properties of speech--of their substitute for

speech {580} in a singular method of inter-communication--of the

incomprehensible connection between each particular individual in the

moon, with some particular individual on the earth--a connection

analogous with, and depending upon that of the orbs of the planet and

the satellite, and by means of which the lives and destinies of the

inhabitants of the one are interwoven with the lives and destinies of

the inhabitants of the other--and above all, if it so please your

Excellencies, above all of these dark and hideous mysteries which lie

in the outer regions of the moon--regions which, owing to the almost

miraculous accordance of the satellite's rotation on its own axis with

its sideral revolution about the earth, have never yet been turned,

and, by God's mercy, never shall be turned to the scrutiny of the

telescopes of man. All this, and more--much more--would I most

willingly detail. But to be brief, I must have my reward. I am pining

for a return to my family and to my home: and as the price of any

farther communications on my part--in consideration of the light which

I have it in my power to throw upon many very important branches of

physical and metaphysical science--I must solicit, through the

influence of your honorable body, a pardon for the crime of which I

have been guilty in the death of the creditors upon my departure from

Rotterdam. This, then, is the object of the present paper. Its bearer,

an inhabitant of the moon, whom I have prevailed upon, and properly

instructed, to be my messenger to the earth, will await your

Excellencies' pleasure, and return to me with the pardon in question,

if it can, in any manner, be obtained.

I have the honor to be, &c. your Excellencies very humble servant,

HANS PHAALL.

Upon finishing the perusal of this very extraordinary document,

Professor Rub-a-dub, it is said, dropped his pipe upon the ground in

the extremity of his surprise, and Mynheer Superbus Von Underduk,

having taken off his spectacles, wiped them, and deposited them in his

pocket, so far forgot both himself and his dignity, as to turn round

three times upon his heel in the quintescence of astonishment and

admiration. There was no doubt about the matter--the pardon should be

obtained. So at least swore with a round oath, Professor Rub-a-dub,

and so finally thought the illustrious Von Underduk, as he took the

arm of his brother in science, and without saying a word, began to

make the best of his way home to deliberate upon the measures to be

adopted. Having reached the door, however, of the burgomaster's

dwelling, the Professor ventured to suggest, that as the messenger had

thought proper to disappear--no doubt frightened to death by the

savage appearance of the burghers of Rotterdam--the pardon would be of

little use, as no one but a man of the moon would undertake a voyage

to so horrible a distance. To the truth of this observation the

burgomaster assented, and the matter was therefore at an end. Not so,

however, rumors and speculations. The letter, having been published,

gave rise to a variety of gossip and opinion. Some of the overwise

even made themselves ridiculous, by decrying the whole business as

nothing better than a hoax. But hoax, with these sort of people, is, I

believe, a general term for all matters above their comprehension. For

my part I cannot conceive upon what data they have founded such an

accusation. Let us see what they say:

Imprimis. That certain wags in Rotterdam have certain especial

antipathies to certain burgomasters and astronomers.

Don't understand at all.

Secondly. That an odd little dwarf and bottle conjurer, both of whose

ears, for some misdemeanor, have been cut off close to his head, has

been missing for several days from the neighboring city of Bruges.

Well--what of that?

Thirdly. That the newspapers which were stuck all over the little

balloon were newspapers of Holland, and therefore could not have been

made in the moon. They were dirty papers--very dirty--and Gluck, the

printer, would take his bible oath to their having been printed in

Rotterdam.

He was mistaken--undoubtedly--mistaken.

Fourthly. That Hans Phaall himself, the drunken villain, and the three

very idle gentlemen styled his creditors, were all seen, no longer

than two or three days ago, in the tippling house in the suburbs,

having just returned, with money in their pockets, from a trip beyond

the sea.

Don't believe it--don't believe a word of it.

Lastly. That it is an opinion very generally received, or which ought

to be generally received, that the College of Astronomers in the city

of Rotterdam--as well as all other Colleges in all other parts of the

world--not to mention Colleges and Astronomers in general--are, to say

the least of the matter, not a whit better, nor greater, nor wiser

than they ought to be.

The d----l, you say! Now that's too bad. Why, hang the people, they

should be prosecuted for a libel. I tell you, gentlemen, you know

nothing about the business. You are ignorant of Astronomy--and of

things in general. The voyage was made--it was indeed--and made, too,

by Hans Phaall. I wonder, for my part, you do not perceive at once

that the letter--the document--is intrinsically--is astronomically

true--and that it carries upon its very face the evidence of its own

authenticity.

For the Southern Literary Messenger.

THE SALE.

It is the law throughout the Old Dominion,

When some poor devil dies in peace or battle,

The executor must be of the opinion

His goods are perishing, and sell each chattel;

Whatever treads on hoof, or flies on pinion--

Hogs, horses, cows, and every sort of cattle--

Cups, saucers, swingle trees and looking glasses--

Ploughs, pots and pans, teakettles and jackasses.

A man who never quotes, it has been said, will in return never be

quoted. By way therefore of quoting, and at the same time of being

quoted, I have quoted a poem of my own, which "will never be

published," written in attempted imitation of Beppo, and describing a

sale in Virginia. Who has not seen something like the following

staring him in the face, on the side of a store or tavern, or upon the

post of a sign-board where several roads meet? "_I shel purceed to sel

to the highest bidder, on Saterday the 3d of Janewary next, at Blank,

all the housol and kitchen ferniter of the late David Double, Esq.

together with all the horses, muels, sheep and hoges. Cash on all sums

of five dollars and under, and a credit of twelve months on the

ballance. Bond with aproved sekurity will {581} be requierd_," _&c._

Such a notification as the above, which is copied verbatim et

spellatim, operates like an electric shock on a whole neighborhood in

that portion of the country in which I reside, especially upon that

part of the population which can least afford to buy bargains. The

temptation of long credit is too great to be resisted, although no

calculations of the ultimate ability to pay are ever made. The grand

desideratum is, to obtain the necessary security, and to purchase to a

greater amount than five dollars. I am myself infected by this

prevailing malady, and frequently buy what is of no manner of use to

me, simply because no cash is required, and bonds are hard to collect,

and suits may be put off by continuances, and matters of this sort

after all, may be settled by executors and administrators. Among the

rest therefore, on the day appointed by the aforesaid notification, I

mounted my horse, and sallied out upon the road leading to Blank, and

fell in with a large party going to the sale, principally managers, as

they call themselves now-a-days, on the neighboring estates. Formerly

they were yclept overseers, but the term is falling into disuse, as

conveying the idea of something derogatory. They were mounted in every

variety of style; there were long tails, and bob tails, and nicked

tails; and I saw at least one sheep skin saddle and grape vine bridle.

By the by, talking of grape vines, what a country ours is for this

invaluable article. Here is no need of hemp manufactories. Nature, in

her exuberant goodness, has supplied an abundance of primitive rope,

which is just as convenient and efficacious as the best cordage,

whether a man wants to hang himself or a dog--whether he wants a cap

for his fence, a backband for his plough-horse, a pair of leading

lines, or a girth for his saddle. Why should we be the advocates of a

tariff, when nature supplies us in peace or war with this and many

other articles of the first necessity, among which I once heard a

Chotanker enumerate _mint_. "Why," said he, "should we fear a

dissolution of the union, a separation of the north from the south,

when there is not a sprig of mint in all New England?" When this was

said, peradventure it might be true; but to my certain knowledge, at

this day the word julap is well understood much farther north than

Mason's and Dixon's line. Pardon me, reader, this digression--for I am

mounted to-day on a rough-going, headstrong animal, that will have his

own way, and wants to turn aside into every by-path which he sees, and

is as "_willyard a pony_" as that ridden by Dumbiedikes, when he

followed Jeanie Deans to lend her the purse of gold. But to return. I

cannot let this opportunity slip of singling out one of this group of

horsemen for description, that you may have a graphic sketch of the

sort of folks and horses that live hereabouts. Wert thou ever upon

Hoecake Ridge? and hast thou ever met in winter, a thorough bred

native of that region, mounted upon his little shaggy pony, "_skelping

on through dub and mire_," like Tam O'Shanter? Here he was to-day, in

his element, dressed in Nankin pantaloons and a thin cotton jacket,

and riding in the teeth of a strong northwester, singing "_Life let us

cherish_." His saddle had no skirts, having been robbed of those

useless appendages by some rogue who wanted a pair of brogues; his

bridle had as many knots as the sea serpent. But my business is not so

much with him as with his pony, whose head and neck may be aptly

represented by a maul and its handle. His tail is six inches long, and

standing at an angle of forty-five degrees with his back; his hair is

long and shaggy; he is cat-hammed, and his chest so narrow that his

fore legs almost touch one another; his eyes snap fire when you plague

him. You may talk of improving the breed of horses. Tell me not of

your Eclipses, your Henrys--of Arabians or Turks. They may be all very

well in their places, but this pony is the animal for my country. He

can bite the grass which is absolutely invisible to human eyes, and

subsist upon it. If you would give him six ears of corn twice a day,

he would be almost too fat to travel. He never stumbles. Give him the

rein, and he will pick his path as carefully as a lady. His powers of

endurance exceed the camel's. His master is a sot, and his horse will

stand all night at a tippling shop, gnawing a fence rail; he almost

prefers it to a corn-stalk which has been lying out all winter, his

common food. When his master comes forth and mounts, he studies

attitudes. If the rider reel to the right, the pony leans to the

starboard side; if to the left, he tacks to suit him. If the master

fall, he falls clear, having no girth to his saddle, and the pony does

not waste time in useless meditation upon accidents that will happen

to the best of us, but moves homeward with accelerated velocity,

leaping every obstacle in his way to his brush stable.

It was my good fortune to drop in alongside of the man who was mounted

upon this incomparable animal, and complimenting him upon his

philosophy in the selection of his song, and on the dexterity of his

horse, I soon found he was a great politician, and we chatted most

agreeably until our arrival at the place of sale. He was a violent

----, but not a word of politics; literature and politics are

different matters altogether. You may be a great politician, you know,

without a particle of literature. Politicians are the last people in

the world to bear a joke; and if I were even to glance at the

discourse of my neighbors, there are many who would not submit to this

interference with their exclusive business; they would see in it "more

devils than vast hell could hold." The world must therefore be content

to lose the humor of my singular acquaintance, as I cannot possibly do

justice to his conceptions without the mention of names. I shall die

though, unless I find some occasion of disclosing them; for old

Hardcastle's man Diggory was never more diverted at his story of the

grouse in the gun-room, than was I at the political conceits of my

Hoecake-ridger. Having arrived at Blank, we _hung_ our horses, as

Virginians always do after riding them, and entered the grounds before

a venerable looking building which had been completely embowelled, and

its contents were piled in promiscuous heaps in various parts of the

yard. Within the great house, as it is usually styled, was already

assembled around a blazing fire, a crowd of exceedingly noisy folks,

all talking at once, and nobody apparently listening. The names of our

leading men sounded on every side, and the Tower of Babel never

witnessed a greater confusion of tongues. For my own part, it always

makes me melancholy to contemplate this inroad of Goths and Vandals

upon apartments which were once perhaps so sacred, and kept in order

with such sedulous attention. It seems a profanation--a want of

respect for the recently dead, and a cruel outrage upon {582} the

feelings of the surviving family. Nothing escapes the prying eye of

curiosity--the rude footstep invades the very penetralia. The

household gods, the Dii Penates are all upturned; and mirth and

jesting reign amidst the precincts of woe. I felt like a jackal

tearing open the grave for my prey. The crier, the high priest of

these infernal orgies, now came forward with his badge of office, the

jug of whiskey, and announced that the sale would commence as soon as

he could wet his whistle, which he proceeded to do, and then began to

ply his customers. It is wonderful to think how much ingenuity has

been displayed in finding out metaphors to describe the detestable act

of tippling. The renowned biographer of Washington and Marion has

imbodied a number of these in one of his minor performances; but

several which I heard this day were new to me, and escaped his

researches; thus, I heard one upbraid another for being too fond of

"_tossing his head back_," while a third invited his companion to

"_rattle the stopper_"--and upon my taking a very moderate drink, and

so weak that a temperance man would scarcely have frowned upon me, I

was clapped on the back and jeered for my fondness of the creature,

since I was willing to swallow an ocean of water to get at a drop. In

a very short time the liquid fire of the Greeks ran through the veins

of the crowd, and they were quickly ripe for bidding--

"Inspiring bold John Barleycorn,

What dangers thou canst make us scorn;

Wi' tippenny we fear nae evil--

Wi' Usquebaugh we'll face the devil."

The "swats sae ream'd" in their noddles, that every thing sold at a

price far beyond its value, and our crier became so exceedingly

facetious, and cracked so many excellent ironical jokes, that it is a

pity they should be lost. Being unskilled however in stenography, I

could not take down his words, and only remember that every untrimmed

_old field_ colt was a regular descendant of Eclipse; the long nosed

hogs were unquestionably Parkinson; the sheep, Merinoes; the cattle

which were notoriously _all horn_, were short horns, &c. &c. They

seemed to me but a scurvy set of animals; but those who saw through a

_glass_ darkly, seemed to entertain a very different opinion. The

"mirth and fun grew fast and furious," "till first a caper sin

anither" "they lost their reason a' thegither," and the sale closed in

one wild uproarious scuffle for every thing at any price whatever.

It now became necessary to return home, an important consideration

which had been wholly overlooked; and the difficulty of mounting our

horses having been overcome after many trials, we began to "witch the

world with" feats of "noble horsemanship." Such "racing and chasing"

had not been seen since the days of Cannobie lea, and quizzing became

the order of the evening. Perceiving the mettlesome nature of my

steed, my friend the politician and philosopher, seemed resolved upon

unhorsing me, notwithstanding my entreaties that he would forbear; and

by dint of riding violently up to me, and shouting out at the top of

his voice, he so alarmed my nag, that he seized the bit between his

teeth, and away I flew, John Gilpin like, to the infinite amusement of

my persecutor, until I was safely deposited in a mud hole, near my own

gate, from whence I had to finish my journey on foot, and appear

before my helpmate in a condition that reflected greatly upon my

character. As a finale to this mortifying business, my purchases were

brought home the next day, and were most unceremoniously thrown out of

doors by my wife, as utterly useless, being literally sans eyes, sans

teeth, sans every thing; cracked pitchers, broken pots, spiders

without legs, jugs without handles, et id genus omne.

NUGATOR.

LITERARY NOTICES.

THE INFIDEL, or the Fall of Mexico, _a romance, by the author of

Calavar_. Philadelphia: Carey, Lea & Blanchard.

The second effort of the author of Calavar, gives us no reason for

revoking the favorable opinion which we expressed of his powers as a

writer of fictitious narrative, in noticing the first. On the

contrary, that opinion is confirmed and strengthened by a perusal of

the Infidel. It is a work of great power, and although, as was the

case with Calavar, it is chiefly occupied with the delineation of

scenes of slaughter and violence--with the stratagems of war--the

plots of conspirators--the stirring incidents of siege and sortie--and

the thrilling details of individual prowess or general onslaught--yet

it abounds in passages which give a pleasing relief to the almost too

frequently recurring incidents of peril and adventure. It is true that

this work does not possess, to by far the same extent, those

enchanting descriptions of natural scenery, which abounded in Calavar:

but the cause of this is probably to be found in the fact, that the

scene of action is the same in both works, and in a natural aversion

of the author to repeat his own pictures. Still, as a whole, we think

the Infidel fully equal to its predecessor, and in some respects

superior. The principal female character is drawn with far greater

vigor, than marked the heroine of Calavar, although the prominent

features in the sketch of the impassioned _Monjonaza_, are of a

masculine kind. She is indeed a most powerful and eccentric creation,

and adds much to the interest of the narrative. Still we think it

problematical whether the author is capable of success in a purely

feminine picture of female character. Zelahualla, the daughter of

Montezuma, a gentler being than La Monjonaza, does not give him a

claim to such a distinction, as she is brought forward but seldom, and

sustains no important part in the action of the drama.

The period at which the narrative of the Infidel commences, is a few

months after the disastrous retreat of the Spaniards from Mexico,

during the "Noche Triste," so powerfully described in Calavar. Cortes

had re-organized his forces, re-united his allies, and was preparing

for the siege of Mexico, now rendered strong in its defences by the

valor, enterprise and activity of the new emperor, Guatimozin. Tezcuco

is the scene of the earlier events, where Cortes was engaged in

completing his preparations, part of which consisted in the

construction of a fleet of brigantines, to command the sea of Anahuac,

and co-operate in the meditated attack upon the great city.

The hero of the story, Juan Lerma, a former protege of Cortes, but who

has fallen under his displeasure, is the pivot on which the main

interest of the work is made to turn. He is imprisoned, and ultimately

rescued by Guatimozin, who carries him to Mexico. The details of a

treasonable plot against the Captain General, headed by Villafana, one

of the most {583} complicated of villains, is skilfully interwoven

with this portion of the narrative. The mysterious _Monjonaza_ is also

a prominent character in the scenes at Tezcuco.

The action changes in the second volume to Mexico, where the

unfortunate Lerma is retained by the Emperor, who is described as

possessing all the noble virtues of christianity, although his pagan

faith gives the title to the book.

The details of the siege are given in the same powerful style as

characterised the combats in Calavar. Indeed it is in descriptions of

battles, that we think the author excels, and is transcendently

superior to any modern writer. When his armies meet, he causes us to

feel the shock, and to realize each turn of fortune by a minuteness of

description, which is never confused. When his heroes engage hand to

hand, we see each blow, each parry, each advantage, each vicissitude,

with a thrilling distinctness. The war cry is in our ears--the

flashing of steel--the muscular energy--the glowing eyes--the dilating

forms of the warriors, are before us. The effect of such delineations

it is difficult to describe; they arouse in us whatever of martial

fire we possess, until we feel like the war horse viewing a distant

combat, "who smelleth the battle afar off, the voice of the captains,

and the shouting." Another point of excellence in our author, is the

manner in which he paints to us the vastness of a barbarian multitude.

His descriptions of myriads, appeal to the sense with graphic effect.

Although we do not generally indulge in long extracts from works like

this, yet, as it is difficult otherwise to convey an idea of the

spirit with which such scenes are presented by the author, we take

from the second volume the description of the battle of the

ambuscades, the last successful struggle made by Guatimozin to repel

the besiegers, who had already hemmed in the city on the several

causeways, and mostly destroyed the water suburbs. The Mexicans, as a

part of their system of defence, had perforated the causeways at short

intervals, with deep ditches, which were conquered by the Spaniards,

one by one, after the most obstinate resistance. Cortes, with his

followers, on the occasion described, had forced one of the dikes, and

with his characteristic impetuosity, pursued the flying Mexicans into

the city, attended by about twenty horsemen only, the foot being far

in the rear. The enemy gave way with apparent signs of fear, which was

not habitual, and Cortes had already been advised that an ambuscade

was evidently contemplated; but the frenzy of battle made him deaf to

prudent counsel:

CHAP. XV, VOL. 2.

The horsemen pursued along the dike, spearing, or tumbling into the

water, the few who had the heart to resist; and so great was, or

seemed, the terror of the barbarians, that the victors penetrated even

within the limits of the island, until the turrets of houses, from

which they were separated only by the lateral canals, darkened them

with their shadows. Upon these were clustered many pagans, who shot at

them both arrows and darts, but with so little energy, that it seemed

as if despondence or fatuity had robbed them of their usual vigor.

Hence, the excited cavaliers gave them but little attention, not

doubting that they would be soon dislodged by the infantry. They were

even regardless of circumstances still more menacing; and if a

lethargy beset the infidel that day, it is equally certain that a

species of distraction overwhelmed the brains of the Spaniards. It

seemed as if the great object of their ambition depended more upon

their following the fugitives to the temple-square than upon any other

feat; and to this they encouraged one another with vivas and

invocations to the saints. They could already behold the huge bulk of

the pyramid, rising up at the distance of a mile, as if it shut up the

street; and its terraced sides, thronged with multitudes of men,

seemed to prove to them, that the frighted Mexicans were running to

their gods for protection. It is true, they perceived vast bodies of

infidels blocking up the avenue afar, as if to dispute their passage

beyond the canalled portion of the island; but they regarded them with

scorn.

They rushed onwards, occasionally arrested by some flying group, but

only for a moment.

There was a place, not far within the limits of the island, where they

found the causeway, for the space of at least sixty paces, so delved

and pared away on either side, that it scarce afforded a passage for

two horsemen abreast. The device was of recent execution, for they

beheld the mattocks of laborers still sticking in the earth, as if

that moment abandoned. This circumstance, so strange, so novel, and so

ominious, it might be supposed, would have aroused them to suspicion.

The passage, as it was, so contracted, broken, and rugged, looked

prodigiously like the Al-Sirat, or bridge to paradise of the

Mussulmans,--that arch, narrow as the thread of a famished spider,

over which it is so much easier to be precipitated than to pass with

safety. Yet grim and threatening as it was, there was but one among

the cavaliers who raised a voice of warning. As the Captain-General,

without a moment's hesitation, pushed his horse forward, to lead the

way, and without a single expression of surprise, the ancient hidalgo,

who had twice before sounded a note of alarm, now exclaimed,--

"For the love of heaven, pause, señor! This is a trap that will

destroy us."

"Art thou afraid, Alderete?" cried Cortes, looking back to him,

grimly. "This is no place for a King's Treasurer," (such was Alderete,

the royal Contador.)--"Get thee back, then, to the first ditch, and

fill it up to thy liking. _This_ will be charge enough for a

volunteer."

"I will fight where thou wilt, when thou wilt, and as boldly as thou

wilt," said the indignant cavalier; "but here play the madman no

longer."

"I will take thy counsel,--rest where I am,--and, in an hour's time,

see myself shut out from the city by a ditch, sixty yards wide! God's

benison upon thy long beard! and mayst thou be wiser. Forward,

friends! Do you not see? the knaves are running amain to check us, and

recover their unfinished gap! On! courage, and on! Santiago and at

them!"

It was indeed as Cortes said. The infidels, who blocked up the streets

afar, were now seen running towards them, with the most terrific

yells, as if to seize, before it was too late, a pass so easily

maintained. The cavaliers, animated by the words of their leader, were

quite as resolute to disappoint them, and therefore rode across as

rapidly as they could. The pass was not only narrow, but tortuous and

irregular; which increased the difficulties of surmounting it; so that

the Mexicans, running with the most frantic speed, were within a

bowshot, before Cortes had spurred his steed upon the broader portion

of the dike. But, as if there were something dreadful to the infidels,

in the spectacle of the great Teuctli of the East, thus again in their

stronghold, they came to a sudden halt, and testified their valor only

by yelling, and waving their spears and banners.

"Courage, friends, and quick!" cried Cortes. "The dogs are beset with

fear, and will not face us. Ye shall hear other yells in a moment.

Haste, valiant cavaliers! haste, men of Spain! and make room for the

footmen, who are behind you."

The screams of the barbarians were loud and incessant; but in the

midst of the din, as he turned to cheer his cavaliers over the broken

passage, Don Hernan's ears were struck by the sound of a Christian

voice, {584} calling from the midst of the pagans, with thrilling

vehemence.

"Beware! beware! Back to the causey! Beware!"

"Hark!" cried Alderete, who had already passed; "Our Saint calls to

us! Let us return!"

"It is a trick of the fiend!" exclaimed Cortes, in evident

perturbation of mind. "Come on, good friends, and let us seize

vantage-ground; or the dogs will drive us, singly, into the ditches."

"Back! back!" shouted the cavaliers behind--"We are ambushed! We are

surrounded!"

Their further exclamations were lost in a tempest of discordant

shrieks, coming from the front and the rear, from the heavens above,

and, as they almost fancied, from the earth beneath. They looked

northward, towards the pyramid,--the whole broad street was filled

with barbarians, rushing towards them with screams of anticipated

triumph; they looked back to the lake,--the causeway was swarming with

armed men, who seemed to have sprung from the waters; to either side,

and beheld the canals of the intersecting streets lashed into foam by

myriads of paddles; while, at the same moment, the few pagans, who had

annoyed them from the housetops, appeared transformed, by the same

spell of enchantment, into hosts innumerable, with spirits all of fury

and flame.

"What says the king of Castile? What says the king of Castile _now_?"

roared the exulting infidels.

"Santiago! and God be with us!" exclaimed Cortes, waving his hand,

with a signal for retreat, that came too late: "Cross but this

devil-trap again, and--"

Before he could conclude the vain and useless order, the drum of the

emperor sounded upon the pyramid. It was an instrument of gigantic

size and horrible note, and was held in no little fear, especially

after the events of this day, by the Spaniards, who fabled that it was

covered with the skins of serpents. It was a fit companion for the

horn of Mexitli; which latter, however, being a sacred instrument, was

sounded only on the most urgent and solemn occasions.

The first tap,--or rather peal, for the sound came from the temple

more like the roll of thunder than of a drum,--was succeeded by yells

still more stunning; and while the cavaliers, retreating, struggled,

one by one, to recross the narrow pass, they were set upon with such

fury as left them but little hope of escape.

If the rashness of Cortes had brought his friends into this fatal

difficulty, he now seemed resolved to atone his fault, by securing

their retreat, even although at the expense of his life. It was in

vain that those few cavaliers who had succeeded in reaching him,

before the onslaught began, besought him to take his chance among

them, and recross, leaving them to cover his rear.

"Get ye over yourselves," he cried, with grim smiles, smiting away the

headmost of the assailants from the street: "If I have brought ye

among coals of fire, heaven forbid I should not broil a little in mine

own person. Quick, fools! over and hasten! over and quick! and by and

by I will follow you."

For a moment, it seemed as if the terror of his single arm would have

kept the barbarians at bay. But, waxing bolder, as they saw his

attendants dropping one by one away, they began to close upon him, and

his situation became exceedingly critical. He looked over his

shoulder, and perceived that his followers threaded their way along

the broken dike with less difficulty than he at first feared. The very

narrowness of the passage left but little foothold for the enemy; and

their attacks, being made principally from canoes, were not such as

wholly to dishearten a cavalier, whose steed was as strongly defended

by mail as his own body. Encouraged by this assurance, the

Captain-General still maintained his post, rushing ever and anon upon

the closing herds, and mowing right and left with his trusty blade,

while his gallant charger pawed down opposition with his hoofs. Thus

he fought, with the mad valor that made his enemies so often deem him

almost a demigod, until satisfied that his own attempt to cross the

pass could no longer embarrass the efforts of his followers. Then,

charging once more upon the pagans, and even with greater fury than

before, he wheeled round with unexpected rapidity, and uttering his

famous cry, "Santiago and at them!" dashed boldly at the passage.

Seven pagans sprang upon the path. They were armed like princes, and

the red fillets of the House of Darts waved among their sable locks.

"The Teuctli shall have the tribute of Mexico!" shouted one,

flourishing a battle-axe that seemed of weight sufficient, in his

brawny arm, to dash out the charger's brains at a blow. The words were

not understood by Cortes; but he recognized at once the visage of the

Lord of Death.

"I have thee, pagan!" he cried, striking at the bold barbarian. The

blow failed; for one of the others, springing at the charger's head

with unexampled audacity, seized him by the bridle, so that he reared

backwards, and thus foiled the aim of his rider. The next moment, the

Spanish steel fell upon the neck of the daring infidel, killing him on

the spot; yet not so instantaneously as to avert a disaster, which it

seemed the object of his fury to produce. His convulsive struggles, as

he clung, dying, to the rein, drove the steed off the narrow ledge;

and thus losing his foothold, the noble animal rolled over into the

deep canal, burying the Captain-General in the flood.

"The general! save the general!" shrieked the only Christian, who, in

this horrible melèe, (for the battle was now universal,) beheld the

condition of Cortes, and who, although on foot, and bristling with

arrows that had stuck fast in his cotton-armor, and resisted by other

weapons at every step, had yet the courage to run to the rescue. It

was Gaspar Olea. His visage was yet wan, and expressive of the unusual

horror preying upon his mind; yet he rushed forward, as if he had

never known a fear. He exalted his voice, while crying for assistance,

until it was heard far back upon the causeway; yet he reached the

place of Don Hernan's mischance alone. The scene was dreadful: the

nobles had flung themselves into the flood, and were dragging the

stunned and strangling hero from the steed, which lay upon its side on

the rugged and shelving edge of the dike, unable to arise, and

perishing with the most fearful struggles; while, all the time, the

elated infidels expressed their triumph with shouts of frantic joy.

"Courage, captain! be of good heart, señor!" exclaimed the Barba-Roxa,

striking down one of the captors at a single blow: "Courage! for we

have good help nigh," he continued, attacking a second with the same

success: "Courage, señor, courage!"

No Mexican helm of dried skins, and no breastplate of copper, could

resist the machete of a man like Gaspar. Yet his first success was

caused rather by the Mexicans being so intently occupied with their

captive, that they thought of nothing else, than by any miraculous

exertion of skill and prowess. He slew two, before they dreamed of

attack, and he mortally wounded a third, ere the others could turn to

drive him back. A fourth rushed upon him, before he could again lift

up his weapon, and grasping him in his arms, with the embrace of a

mountain bear, leaped with him into the canal.

There were now but two left in possession of Cortes; yet his

resistance even against these was ineffectual. His sword had dropped

from his hand; a violent blow had burst his helmet, and confounded his

brain; and he had been lifted from the water, already half suffocated.

Yet he struggled as he could, and catching one of his foes by the

throat, he succeeded in overturning him into the water, and there

grappled with him among the shallows. The remaining barbarian, yelling

for assistance, flung himself upon the pair; and though twenty

Spaniards, headed by Bernal Diaz and the hunchback, were now within

half as many paces, Cortes would have perished where he lay, had not

assistance arose from an unexpected quarter.

{585} Among the vast numbers who came crowding from the city over the

broken passage, were several who knew, by the cry of the seventh

noble, that Malintzin was in his hands; and they rushed forward, to

ensure his capture. The foremost and fleetest of these was

distinguished from the rest by a frame of towering height; and, had

there been a Spaniard by to notice him, would have been still more

remarkable from the fact, that he uttered all his cries in good,

expressive Castilian. He bore a Spanish weapon, too, and his first

act, as he flung himself into the ditch where Cortes was drowning, was

to strike it through the neck of the uppermost noble. His next was to

spurn the other from the breast of the general, whom he raised to his

feet, murmuring in his ear,

"Be of good heart, señor! for you are saved."

What more he would have said and done can only be imagined; for, at

that moment, the Barba-Roxa rushed out of the ditch, followed close at

hand by the hunchback, Bernal Diaz, and others, and seeing his

commander, as he thought, in the hands of a foeman, he lifted his good

sword once again, and smote him over the head, crying,

"Down, infidel dog! and _vive_ for Spain and our general!"

At this moment, there rushed up a crew of fresh combatants, Spaniards

from the rear and infidels from the front. But before they closed upon

him entirely, the Barba-Roxa caught sight of the man he had struck

down, and beheld, in his pale and quivering aspect, the features of

Juan Lerma.

The unhappy wretch, thus beholding the beloved youth, with his own

eyes, a leaguer and helpmate of the infidel, and punished to death, as

it seemed, by his hand, set up a scream wildly vehement, and broke

from the group of Spaniards, who now surrounded Cortes, endeavoring to

drag him in safety over the pass. The exile had been seen by others as

well as Gaspar, and many a ferocious cry of exultation burst from

their lips, as they saw him fall.

Meanwhile, Gaspar, distracted in mind, and dripping with blood, for he

had not escaped from the ditch and the fierce embrace of his fourth

antagonist, without many severe wounds, endeavored to retrace his

steps to the spot where Juan had followed. It was occupied by

infidels, who drove him into the ditch, where his legs were grasped by

a drowning Mexican, who raised himself a little from the water, and

displayed, between his neck and shoulder, a yawning chasm, rather than

a wound, from which the blood, at every panting expiration of breath,

rolled out hideously in froth and foam. It was the Lord of Death, thus

struck by Juan Lerma, as he lay upon the breast of Cortes, and now

perishing, but still like a warrior of the race of America. He

clambered up the body of Gaspar, for it could hardly be said, that he

rose upon his feet; and seeing that he grasped a Christian soldier, he

strove to utter once more a cry of battle. The blood foamed from his

lips, as from his wound; and his voice was lost in a suffocating

murmur. Yet, with his last expiring strength, he locked his arms round

the neck of the Spaniard, now almost as much spent as himself, and

falling backwards, and writhing together as they fell, they rolled off

into the deep water, where the salt and troubled flood wrapped them in

a winding-sheet, already spread over the bosoms of thousands.

There is another scene which we had marked for extracting, but which

our limits forbid inserting--a single combat on the stone of

Temalacatl--in which a Spanish prisoner, doomed to the gladiatorial

sacrifice, contends successfully against several antagonists. The

details of this barbarous ceremony, are full of interest. The prisoner

is bound by one foot to the stone of sacrifice, and if in this

condition he kill six Mexicans, he is liberated, and sent home with

honor; if he fail, he is doomed a sacrifice to the pagan deities. The

narrative of this combat, is given with remarkable spirit and

precision, and holds the reader in breathless excitement to the end.

The story closes as happily as could be expected from the nature of

its incidents. The fall of Mexico, and the humiliation of its heroic

emperor, excite a profound sympathy; and the death of Monjonaza, who

dies broken hearted upon discovering that Juan, of whom she is

passionately enamored, is her brother, throws a melancholy shade over

the brightening fortunes of the hero.

Some of the minor characters are drawn with a vigorous hand. The dog

Befo, is a powerful delineation of heroic fidelity, seldom equalled by

his superiors of the human race. Gaspar Olea, the Barba-Roxa, or red

haired, is a fine specimen of the bold, blunt, honest soldier; and

Bernal Diaz, (the historian of the Conquest,) though little

distinguished in the story, adds to its interest. The Lord of Death,

is a fine picture of the lofty race of barbarians, who spurned the

slavery of their foreign foe, and died in resisting it. Najara, the

hunchback and the cynic, is also a well drawn character.

The Infidel will, we doubt not, enjoy a popularity equal to that of

Calavar. It confirms public opinion as to the abilities of the author,

who has suddenly taken a proud station in the van of American writers

of romance. He possesses a fertility of imagination rarely possessed

by his compeers. In many of their works, there is a paucity of events;

and incidents of small intrinsic importance, are wrought up by the

skill of the writer so as to give a factitious interest to a very

threadbare collection of facts. Great ability may be displayed in this

manner; but our author seems to find no such exertion necessary. The

fertility of his imagination displays itself in the constant

recurrence of dramatic situations, striking incidents and stirring

adventures; so much so, that the interest of the reader, in following

his characters through the mazes of perils and enterprizes,

vicissitudes and escapes, which they encounter, is often painfully

excited. If this be a fault, it is one which is creditable to the

powers of the author, and indicates an exuberance of invention, which

will bear him through a long course of literary exertions, and insure

to him great favor with the votaries of romance.

Thera are some minor faults which might be noticed. As an instance,

the author habitually uses the word "_working_" in describing the

convulsions of the countenance, under the influence of strong

passions: as, "his _working_ and agonized visage"--"his face _worked_

convulsively," &c. Although Sir Walter Scott is authority for the use

of the word in this manner, we have always considered it a decided

inelegance. But such blemishes cannot seriously detract from the

enduring excellence of the work.

* * * * *

AN ADDRESS, delivered at his inauguration as President of Washington

College, Lexington, Virginia, Feb. 21, 1835, by Henry Vethake.

We have read this address with unmingled pleasure. It is replete with

strong _common sense_, and that quality is rarely much exercised in

discussions of the subject of education. The opinions of President

Vethake seem to us sound and practical: he has a full sense of the

errors in the systems of instruction, which have prevailed too long in

many of our institutions; and suggests {586} alterations in the modes

of teaching, which seem to us both practicable, and promising great

benefits. We are constrained by the pressure of other matters, to

confine ourselves to a brief notice of this address, and to curtail

our extracts from its pages. The following strictures upon the old

system of imparting information to students, will, we believe, be

recognized as just and sensible, by every one who has reflected on the

subject. Although these remarks are intended by the orator to refer to

college exercises only, they apply with equal force to the faulty

system of teaching pursued by nine-tenths of the conductors of our

primary and elementary schools, at which the pupils are, in most

cases, severely drilled in the study of mere _words_, while no

corresponding knowledge of the _things_ of which they are the symbols,

is imparted by the teacher, who makes no effort to awaken the mental

energies of the pupil; but is fully satisfied if he cultivate the

_memory_, though the _mind_ remain waste and uninformed. But to our

extract:

"The error is an egregious one, which leads a student to suppose that

his proper business is to store his mind as industriously as he can

with the facts previously observed, and the opinions previously held,

by others who lived before him. Its natural effect will be to deaden

all originality of thought, and to degrade the individual, thus led

astray, to a low rank in the scale of intelligence, when compared with

that to which he would have entitled himself, with more correct ideas

of the nature of education. The memory may have been cultivated to a

considerable extent; imagination, and the reasoning power, will have

remained nearly dormant. But this is not all. The individual in

question will not even have acquired the ability to communicate what

he has learned to others. To do so with clearness and order, is by no

means always an easy matter; and it is one to which he has directed no

portion of his attention, his mind having been exclusively occupied in

passively receiving knowledge. And it may be added, that, although it

should be conceded, that by pursuing the method of education against

which my remarks are at present pointed, a greater amount of mere

extraneous information can be acquired, yet this will generally be

found to be true only for a comparatively short period. Those facts

and opinions of which we read, that do not become the subjects of

subsequent comparison and reflection, have, as it were, only a loose

connection with our understandings, and, sooner or later, and

sometimes very speedily, pass into oblivion. Hence it will be found

that, if we have regard rather to the usefulness of manhood than to

the display to be made by the youth of a college at an examination, as

this is ordinarily conducted, the most effectual method even of

storing the mind with what other men have observed and thought, is to

regard the communication of knowledge to the student as altogether

accessary to the great object of disciplining his mind, and of

properly developing his various intellectual faculties. And not only

will that individual, whose faculties have been most advantageously

excited, be ultimately possessed of the greatest amount and range of

information, but he will far surpass his competitors in the race of

life, in the art of communicating, and, at proper times and places,

displaying that information. He will also come to possess a capacity

for attaining a still further measure of knowledge, whenever he may

desire to do so, upon any subject that excites a particular interest

in him, to which the man of mere memory is a total stranger.

"It is sufficiently to be lamented, that the student should

occasionally fall of his own accord into the error I have been

considering: but it is lamentable in a far greater degree, when his

propensity to do so is encouraged by the faulty system of instruction

pursued by his teacher. The young men in our colleges, have been, and

still are, too frequently taught in a manner to operate thus

injuriously. I refer, more particularly, to the practice of hearing

them recite, on almost every subject, the contents, and the precise

contents, of certain text books, with little or no accompanying

comment, excepting what may be absolutely necessary for enabling them

to comprehend the meaning of the work recited. In this manner of

instruction, it is not geometry, or the spirit of geometry, that is

acquired by the student, but what it is that Euclid, or Legendre, has

delivered concerning geometry. It is not the philosophy of the human

mind with which he is made acquainted; it is only the system of some

distinguished author--be it that of Locke, or Reid, or Brown. It is

true that we may easily conceive the reciting of a text book to be

accompanied by an enlightened commentary on the part of the

instructor, calculated to liberate the mind of the student from all

undue subjection to the opinions, and to the peculiar classifications

and modes of expression, of the author. We may, indeed, conceive the

instructor to superadd every possible contrivance which is fitted to

awaken in the mind of his pupils a spirit of independent inquiry.

Still the _tendency_ of the system is to degenerate into the mere

recitation of the contents of the text book."

* * * * *

"Another reason why young men in our colleges are tempted to neglect

the general cultivation of their minds, and to devote their whole

study to the storing of their memories with the contents of the text

books put into their hands, is that their comparative scholarship is

very apt to be estimated by their instructors, not so much by the

nature of the questions which they are able to answer correctly, and

by the amount of thinking and originality displayed, as by the

promptitude and fluency with which they can repeat what they have

servilely learned. I have been told by more individuals than one, and

by graduates of more institutions than one, that on discovering, while

at college, the fact to be as I have just stated, and being anxious

that the best account of them should go to their friends, from their

professors, they at once resolved to subject themselves to the

drudgery of committing the author they were appointed to study

verbatim to memory, and that, by so doing, they did not fail to secure

the object they had in view. The persons of whom I speak, were young

men of talent, as well as ambitious of immediate distinction. Had

their minds at the time been sufficiently matured to have adequately

appreciated the uselessness and the folly of this method of study,

without at the same time being matured enough to adopt, of their own

suggestion, a more efficient and rational method, and had they been

less influenced by present rewards, without as yet aspiring to the

more substantial rewards of a future reputation among men, or without

the loftier stimulant of duty, they might have become, like others

among their fellow students, altogether negligent of their

improvement, and perhaps have contracted the most ruinous habits. It

is to the system of education, upon which I am animadverting, together

with the mistakes made by the members of a college faculty, in

deciding on the comparative scholarship of the students--which

mistakes the latter are competent to judge of, with a good deal of

accuracy--that the anomaly, so often remarked, of a young man's

relative _standing_ while in college, being so often but little

indicative of his future standing in the world, is to be ascribed; and

the explanation is likewise manifest why some individuals of peculiar

energy of character, after wasting their time in almost complete

idleness while at college, astonish their friends nevertheless, by the

intellectual exertions of which they shew themselves to be capable,

when an adequate motive is presented for exerting their energies. This

solves the mystery too, why so many _self-taught_ men, have, in

despite of the disadvantages under which they labored, surpassed the

graduates of colleges in usefulness and reputation; every acquisition

made by a self-taught man, in consequence of the very difficulty of

making it, being accompanied by a contemporary {587} sharpening of his

intellect, which the passive recipient of another's knowledge never

experiences."

Of his suggestions for the remedy of this evil, we have room only for

the following passage:

"The practical question now presents itself--what is the proper remedy

for the evils that have been described? Are we to rest satisfied with

the efficiency of our colleges and universities being rendered wholly

dependent on the accident, as it may be called, of the instructors

proving themselves, upon trial, to be possessed of intellectual powers

of the highest, or at least of a very high order, that is, of powers

which will exert themselves, and produce their proper fruit, under

almost any circumstances whatever, of disadvantage? Or shall we

abandon our institutions of learning, where these disadvantageous

circumstances have hitherto been permitted to exist, and have afforded

an opportunity to unskilful and indolent teachers to nip the evolving

faculties of youth in the bud? We are, fortunately, not limited to a

selection of either of these modes of proceeding. As a remedy for the

evils described, the professors, in every department of instruction

admitting of it, should, in my opinion, be obliged to prepare courses

of _lectures_ to the students. This would necessarily compel them to

digest a system of knowledge for themselves, possessing more or less

of originality in respect to thought or arrangement, of matter or of

manner, according to the ability of the writer or speaker. Even if the

lectures were only compilations from the writings of others, or should

possess far inferior merit to various works on the same subject, that

might be put into the hands of the student, the fitness of the

professor to teach, will be greatly augmented, both because his

information on the branch of instruction confided to him, will, in the

preparation of his lectures, have become much more extensive, and

because what he knows will be much more methodically arranged, than

before. Those works, besides, which are supposed to be of greater

value than the professor's lectures, are still as accessible as ever

to the students; and the improvement of their instructor can surely in

no wise interfere with the benefit to be derived by them from the

perusal of the works of others."

* * * * *

A HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, from the Discovery of the American

Continent to the present time; by George Bancroft. Vol. 1. pp. 508.

Boston: Charles Bowen. London: R. J. Kennett.

The interest we have felt in this work, is the true cause of our

seeming neglect of it. This may appear paradoxical, but is easily

explained.

In taking up the book, we naturally turned to that part of which we

knew most, and in which we took the greatest interest. There was

always something in the early history of Virginia on which we

delighted to dwell, and we promised ourselves great pleasure from the

contemplation of the character of our forefathers, as we expected to

find it portrayed by a diligent historian, who had already acquired

the character of a fine writer.

We did indeed find what was intended to be a favorable account of our

ancestors. Yet we were disappointed. We found much of direct praise.

Yet we were disappointed. We ought perhaps to feel obliged, by Mr. B's

disposition to speak kindly of our forefathers, even while his

applauses grate upon our feelings. But we are unfortunately

constituted. What Mr. Bancroft gives as praise, we cannot accept as

praise; and, what is worse, we cannot help suspecting, in all such

cases, that a sneer, or something more mischievous, is intended.

Sterne, in his Sentimental Journey, tells us, that when on his way

from Calais to Paris, he accidentally disclosed to his Landlord and

Valet de Chambre, the astounding fact, that he had blundered into the

heart of France without a passport, the former fell back from him

three paces. At the same moment, his affectionate and grateful

servant, by a like instinctive impulse, advanced three paces towards

him.

The fall of Charles I, presented to his adherents a case somewhat

analogous. History tells us that they were variously affected by it.

Some fell back in dismay, while others found themselves drawn more

closely toward his exiled son. The former soon found that the

successful party had rewards in store for timely submission and

zealous service. The latter, driven from their last rallying point, by

the fatal battle of Worcester, did but _submit_, and that with

undisguised reluctance, to what was inevitable.

Mr. Bancroft seems to think he does honor to our ancestors, by

assigning them a place among the former. Now we had always supposed

that their true place was among the latter, and we had moreover a sort

of pride in so supposing. There are those who will say that there is

great arrogance in thus claiming for them a place among the generous

and brave and faithful. Others will call it folly to insist, _at this

day_, on their fidelity to a _king_, and especially to one who had

lost all means of rewarding, or even of using their zeal. We beg leave

to set off these imputations against each other. We beg to be allowed

to speak of our fathers as they were; and trust that one half of those

who shall cavil at the character we impute to them, will acquit us of

any very high presumption, when they see that we only claim for them

such qualities, as the other half say we ought to be ashamed of. If

the same individual is sometimes found assailing us, alternately on

both grounds, his consistency in so doing is his affair, not ours.

If we know anything (and we think we do) of the character of the early

settlers of Virginia, they were a chivalrous and generous race, ever

ready to resist the strong, to help the weak, to comfort the

afflicted, and to lift up the fallen. In this spirit they had

withstood the usurpation of Cromwell while resistance was practicable,

and, when driven from their native country, they had bent their steps

toward Virginia, as that part of the foreign dominions of England,

where the spirit of loyalty was strongest. We learn from Holmes, vol.

i. p. 315, that the population of Virginia increased about fifty per

cent. during the troubles. The newcomers were loyalists, who were

added to a population already loyal. Could _they_, without dishonor,

have been hearty in favor of the new order of things? _They_ whose

principles had driven them into exile? _They_ who, had they remained,

would have fought and fallen with Montrose?

The historical compends with which our youth was familiar, had taught

us to form this estimate of the early settlers of Virginia; and we had

the more faith in it, because it accords with the hereditary

prejudices and prepossessions of the present day. It accounts too, for

those peculiarities which, at this moment, form the distinctive

features of the Virginian character. It is unique. Whether for better

or worse, it differs essentially from that of every other people under

the sun. How long it shall be before the "_march of mind_," as it is

called, in its Juggernaut car, shall pass over us, and {588} crush and

obliterate every trace of what our ancestors were, and what we

ourselves have been, is hard to say. It may postpone that evil day, to

resist any attempt to impress us with false notions of our early

history, and the character of our ancestors.

We had never looked narrowly into the contemporary authority for the

traditions and histories that have come down to us. Mr. Bancroft's

account of the matter has led us to do so. Hence our delay to notice

his work. Our research has been rewarded by the pleasure of finding

full confirmation of all our preconceived notions.

The point in contest between Mr. Bancroft and the received histories

is this:

The histories represent Virginia as having been loyal to the last; as

having stood in support of the title of Charles II, after every other

part of the British dominions had submitted to Cromwell, and as having

been the first to renounce the authority of the protector, _and return

to their allegiance_. All this Mr. Bancroft denies; and all this,

except the last proposition, (that in italics) we affirm. In proof, we

appeal to the very authorities on which Mr. Bancroft relies.

Indeed, we are at a loss to know how he himself escaped the conclusion

against which he protests so strongly. It may not be true that Charles

II was proclaimed in Virginia, as Robertson says, before he had been

recognized in England. Mr. Hening (1 Sts. at Large, p. 529, quoted by

Bancroft) may be right, when he says, that, if such were the fact, the

public records should show it. But his book is full of proof that the

records are incomplete. Is there not such proof in this instance? Let

us examine.

The first act of the session of March 1660, assumes the supreme power.

The second appoints Sir William Berkeley governor, and prescribes that

he shall govern according to the "_auncient lawes_ of England, and the

established lawes" of Virginia. The third repeals all laws

inconsistent with "the power now established;" and the fourth makes it

penal to "say or act anything in derogation" of the government thus

established.

Here is evidence enough of a _new order_ of things, and yet it is not

so very clear what that new order was. Hening says (_ubi supra_) that

Berkeley was elected _just as Mathews had been_. Wherein then was the

innovation? The recital in the preamble of the act last quoted, (1

Hen. Sts. p. 531) may give a clue to this.

It is there set forth that "it hath been thought necessary and

convenient by the present Burgesses of this Assembly, the

representatives of the people, _during the time of these

distractions_, to take the government into their own power, with the

conduct of the _auncient lawes_ of England, till such _lawfull_

commission or commissions appear to us, _as wee may_ DUTIFULLY _submit

to, according as by_ DECLARATION SET FORTH BY US _doth_ MORE AMPLY

_appeare_."

Now where is this MORE AMPLE DECLARATION, concerning their idea of

such a commission as they might DUTIFULLY submit to? Is not here an

_hiatus valde deflendus_? Yet such are the tattered manuscripts from

which Mr. Hening's compilation is made, that the loss of the whole or

a part of any document is quite common.

Enough appears, however, to show that this declaration did not amount

to a recognition of Charles as king _de facto_; because the above

mentioned Act I, directs that all writs shall issue in the name of the

assembly. But it is equally clear that he was, _at least tacitly_,

acknowledged as king _de jure_; that the government was established

provisionally, and subject to his pleasure; and that the power assumed

was held FOR HIM.

Now when we consider these things; when we find Robertson, on the

authority of _Beverley_ and _Chalmers_, saying that "as Sir William

Berkeley refused to act under an usurped authority, they (the

assembly) boldly erected the royal standard, and acknowledging Charles

II to be their lawful sovereign, proclaimed him with all his titles;"

we may doubt the accuracy of the statement, _in extenso_, but we

cannot agree that even _that_ statement shall be stigmatized as a

fiction.

Mr. Hening tells us (1 Sts. p. 513) that Beverley was near the scene

of action, and wonders that he should have _misunderstood_ or

_misrepresented_. Wonderful indeed it _would_ have been; for in March

1662, we find him clerk to the House of Burgesses. See 2 Hen. Sts. p.

162. We find too, in the same volume, p. 544, that Berkeley refused to

act without the advice of the council; that on receiving this he

agreed to act, and that "HIS _declaration_ TO BE governor (not the act

electing him) were PROCLAIMED by order of the assembly." Berkeley (be

it remembered) was the last royal governor, and his commission had

never been revoked, his election is not for any specific term, and the

act is accompanied with a condition that he shall call an assembly at

least once in _every two years_. How is this, if he was only elected

to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of Mathews, who, just one

year before, had been elected _to serve two years_. Is not Berkeley in

of his old commission?

But of the loyalty of Virginia there can be no doubt. That this was in

no wise abated by the fall of Charles I, and the exile of his son, is

equally certain. The act, passed immediately after, making it high

treason to justify the murder of the one, or to deny the title of the

other, puts that out of dispute. They certainly did not stand out,

when the battle of Dunbar and the fall of Montrose had left the loyal

party without hope either in England or Scotland. But look at the very

act of surrender. Study its terms, and see the temper displayed there.

Do they acknowledge the _authority_ of parliament or protector? No:

they do but _submit_ to power. There is no profession of allegiance,

nor was any oath of allegiance ever administered during the

commonwealth. They engage indeed so to administer their power as not

to contravene "the government of the commonwealth of England, and the

lawes there established." But this was a proceeding which a respect

for _private rights_ required. They stipulate moreover, that Virginia

shall enjoy as free a trade as England herself, and put an end to all

the authority of commissions from England. It was by such commissions

that the king had governed. That "government by commissions and

instructions" is declared to be for the future "null and void." The

usurper had clutched the sceptre of the king of _England_. That of the

king of _Virginia_ he was not allowed to touch. Accordingly no more

commissions came from England. We hear no more of them until the

election of Berkeley. We are then told that the government is

provisional, and only to endure until a _lawful commission_ shall

appear. What {589} commission? Whose? The protector's? The

parliament's? No. The act of surrender (1 Hen. St. p. 363) had

abolished them. But it had not abolished the rights of the king; and

the power of the assembly and governor is thus made to wait on them.

Strange as it may seem, the act of surrender contains no word

recognizing the rightful authority of the parliament, nor impeaching

that of the king. On the contrary, as if to exclude any such idea,

this remarkable clause is inserted:

"That there be one sent _home_, at the present governor's choice, to

give an accompt to HIS MA'TIE, of the surrender of HIS _countrey_."

_Home!_ There is a simple pathos in the use of this word here, which

speaks volumes to the heart. None can feel more deeply than we do, how

utterly unworthy of this steady and passionate loyalty, was the wretch

who was its object. But they knew not his faults. They only knew him

in his lineage and his misfortunes; and though he had no place to lay

his head, yet wherever their messenger might find the outcast, there

was the home of their hearts. We mean nothing profane. God forbid! But

we cannot help being reminded of the weak warm-hearted boy, who stood

by his master's cross, and gazed with looks of love upon his dying

face, when the stronger and bolder of his followers had "forsaken him

and fled." We are more proud to be descended from the men who stood

forward in the business of that day, than we should be to trace

ourselves to Adam, through all the most politic and prudent

self-seekers that the world has ever seen.

But to return to Mr. Bancroft. Affairs being thus settled, things went

on quite peaceably; and he hence infers that the Virginians were

entirely reconciled to Cromwell and his parliament. Moreover, he finds

them claiming the supreme power, as residing in the colonial

legislature; and from this he most strangely infers a loyalty to the

parliament, the model of which he represents them as so eager to copy.

Now Mr. Bancroft himself tells us (p. 170) that as early as 1619,

Virginia first set _the world_ the example of equal representation.

From that time they held that the supreme power was in the hands of

the colonial parliament, then established, and the king as king of

Virginia. Now the authority of the king being at an end, and no

successor being acknowledged, it followed as _a corollary from their

principles_ that no power remained but that of the assembly; _and so

they say_. Does this look like a recognition of Cromwell and his

parliament, or the reverse?

But Mr. Bancroft seems to think that Virginia could not have failed to

be weaned from her attachment to the king, and won over to Cromwell

and his parliament, by the magnanimity and justice of their

proceedings. He adverts to the article in the treaty of surrender, by

which Virginia had stipulated for a trade as free as that of England,

and assures us that "its terms _were faithfully observed till the

restoration_." (p. 241.) He adds at p. 246, that "the navigation act

of Cromwell was not designed for the oppression of Virginia, and _was

not enforced within her borders_." Hence he says (p. 241) that the

pictures drawn by Beverley, Chalmers, Robertson, Marshall, and Holmes,

of the discontent produced by commercial oppression, are all "pure

fiction."

Now what says the reader to the following extract from a memorial on

behalf of the trade of Virginia, laid before Cromwell in 1656?

"What encouragement the poor planter has had to sweeten his labor,

since the Dutch were excluded trade, appears by the _general

complaint_ of them all, that they are the merchant's slaves, who will

allow them scarce a half-penny a pound for their tobacco. Beside that,

since the Dutch trade was prohibited, till this year there has been a

great deal of their tobacco left behind for want of fraught, and

spoiled, to the almost undoing of divers of them." ... "This is an

inconveniency which has attended _that act for navigation_," "but

unless it be _a little_ dispensed withal, it will undoubtedly ruin

part of the trade it was intended to advance. 'Tis true the people of

themselves, some of them at least, have this year endeavored their own

relief by _secret trade with the Dutch_," &c. &c.

Is not this decisive? If it does not prove the fact, it at least

proves the complaint. Mr. Bancroft denies both. Perhaps this paper is

a forgery. Perhaps Mr. Bancroft never saw it. YES HE DID. It is the

same paper to which he refers at p. 247, note 2, in the very paragraph

in which he says that Cromwell's navigation act was not designed for,

nor enforced in Virginia. Mr. B. indeed says "the war between England

and Holland necessarily interrupted the intercourse of the Dutch with

the English colonies." But this memorial is of the year 1656, and

peace had been concluded April 15, 1654.

Robertson speaks of the colonial governors during the interregnum, as

having been _named_ (that is his word) by Cromwell. This is roundly

denied. On what authority? None. The election proves nothing

certainly. It might have been a mere form, though it was probably

something more. But what was easier than a recommendation which it

would be perhaps best to conform to? How often was the speaker of the

house of commons so chosen in England?

Mr. Bancroft's view of this matter stands thus: Virginia elected her

own governors. Bennett, Digges, and Mathews, were commonwealth's men.

She freely chose them as governors. Ergo. She had gone over to the

commonwealth.

Now there is no proof of either of these propositions. We doubt both.

For if it were established that these gentlemen were, as we suspect,

forced on the colony, it would not be clear that they were therefore

commonwealth's men. We doubt very much whether any such were to be

found. They might have been the least violent among the royalists, and

therefore preferred.

Of Col. Bennett we know something traditionally. The idea that he was

a parliamentarian is new to us. We should require some better proof

than the Collections of the Massachusetts Historical Society. He was

indeed, one of the parliamentary commissioners at the time of the

surrender. So was Claiborne, a warm friend and favorite of Sir William

Berkeley, continued in his office of secretary of state, by the

legislature, at Berkeley's request, after his restoration. 1 Hen. Sts.

p. 547. Bennett himself retained his place at the council board, where

he still found himself, as before the restoration, in the company of

cavaliers, such as Morrison, Yardly, Ludlow, &c. &c.[1]

[Footnote 1: The characters and principles of these gentlemen may

throw some light on the subject. If we can ascertain those of the

members of the council, elected by the assembly, we shall have a clue

to the temper of the assembly itself. We may know the tree by its

fruit. If we find that body electing to a place in the council men of

very decided political character, we shall have a right to believe

that those associated with them by the vote of the same body were, at

least, not zealous members of the opposite party. In this case the

maxim "_noscitur a socio_," will surely apply. Let us see what lights

we can bring to bear on this subject.

In Churchill's voyages (vol. vi. p. 171) is "A Voyage to Virginia, by

Col. Norwood." He was a cavalier, and came over in company with

Francis Morrison, also a cavalier. Norwood was also a kinsman of

Berkeley. Arriving here, they found Sir Henry Chichely, Col. Yardly,

Wormely, and Ludlow, whom they recognized as old friends and

cavaliers.

Now in the council elected along with Bennett, immediately after the

surrender, we find two of these gentlemen, Yardly and Ludlow. The

latter had been a member of Berkeley's council that had concurred

(October 1649) in declaring it to be high treason to defend the

proceedings of parliament against Charles I, or to deny the title of

his son. West, the first named member of Bennett's council, had

occupied the same place in that of Berkeley. Pettus and Bernard were

also members of both. We might conjecture that they had dissented from

the act referred to, if we did not find them associated with Yardly

and Ludlow. We find too that Harwood, who had been speaker of the

assembly of October 1649, was also one of Bennett's council. The whole

number was thirteen, and here are six notorious royalists. Of what

complexion could the other seven have been? Two of them, Taylor and

Freeman, were members of the assembly of 1647, from two most loyal

counties.

In July, 1653, Col. Walter Chiles, who had been a member in October

1649, was speaker.

In November, 1654, Col. Edward Hill, another of them, was speaker. He

was in high favor after the restoration. He was transferred to the

council in 1655.

We find the name of Charles Norwood, as clerk of the assembly, from

that time.