On Friday at noon, the embargo on the cabs was removed—although that on

the omnibuses continued; and circulation for foot passengers became

tolerably safe, in the Quartier St. Honoré, and on the Boulevards. I went

into an English chemist’s shop in the Rue de la Paix, for a bottle of

soda-water. The chemist was lying dead up-stairs, shot. He was going from

his shop to another establishment he had in the Faubourg Poissonière, to

have the shutters shut, apprehending a disturbance. Entangled for a moment

on the Boulevard, close to the Rue Lepelletier, among a crowd of

well-dressed persons, principally English and Americans, an order was

given to clear the Boulevard. A charge of Lancers was made, the men firing

their pistols wantonly among the flying crowd; and the chemist was shot

dead. Scores of similar incidents took place on that dreadful Thursday

afternoon.—Friends, acquaintances of my own, had friends, neighbors,

relations, servants, killed. Yet it was all accident,

chance-medley—excusable, of course. How were the soldiers to distinguish

between insurgents and sight-seers? These murders were, after all, but a

few of the thorns to be found in the rose-bush of glorious war!

From the street which in old Paris times used to go by the name of the Rue

Royale, and which I know by the token that there is an English

pastry-cook’s on the right-hand side, coming down; where in old days I

used (a small lad then at the Collège Bourbon) to spend my half-holidays

in consuming real English cheesecakes, and thinking of home—in the Rue

Royale, now called, I think, Rue de la République; I walked on to the

place, and by the Boulevard de la Madeleine, des Italiens, and so by the

long line of that magnificent thoroughfare, to within a few streets of the

Porte St. Denis. Here I stopped, for the simple reason that a hedge of

soldiery bristled ominously across the road, close to the Rue de Faubourg

Montmartre, and that the commanding officer would let neither man, woman,

nor child pass. The Boulevards were crowded, almost impassable in fact,

with persons of every grade, from the “lion” of the Jockey Club, or the

English nobleman, to the pretty grisette in her white cap, and the

scowling, bearded citizen, clad in blouse and _calotte_, and looking very

much as if he knew more of a barricade than he chose to aver. The houses

on either side of the way bore frightful traces of the combat of the

previous day. The Maison Doré, the Café Anglais, the Opéra Comique,

Tortoni’s, the Jockey Club, the Belle Jardinière, the Hôtel des Affaires

Etrangères, and scores, I might almost say hundreds of the houses had

their windows smashed, or the magnificent sheets of plate-glass starred

with balls; the walls pockmarked with bullets: seamed and scarred and

blackened with gunpowder. A grocer, close to the Rue de Marivaux, told me

that he had not been able to open his door that morning for the dead

bodies piled on the step before it. Round all the young trees (the old

trees were cut down for former barricades in February and June, 1848), the

ground shelves a little in a circle; in these circles there were pools of

blood. The people—the extraordinary, inimitable, consistently inconsistent

French people—were unconcernedly lounging about, looking at these things

with pleased yet languid curiosity. They paddled in the pools of blood;

they traced curiously the struggles of some wounded wretch, who, shot or

sabred on the curbstone, had painfully, deviously, dragged himself (so the

gouts of blood showed) to a door-step—to die. They felt the walls, pitted

by musket bullets; they poked their walking-sticks into the holes made by

the cannon-balls. It was as good as a play to them.

The road on either side was lined with dragoons armed _cap-a-pié_. The

poor tired horses were munching the forage with which the muddy ground was

strewn; and the troopers sprawled listlessly about, smoking their short

pipes, and mending their torn costume or shattered accoutrements.

Indulging, however, in the _dolce far niente_, as they seemed to be, they

were ready for action at a moment’s notice. There was, about two o’clock,

an _alerte_—a rumor of some tumult toward the Rue St. Denis. One solitary

trumpet sounded “boot and saddle;” and, with almost magical celerity, each

dragoon twisted a quantity of forage into a species of rope, which he hung

over his saddle-bow, crammed his half-demolished loaf into his holsters,

buckled on his cuirass; then, springing himself on his horse, sat

motionless: each cavalier with his pistol cocked, and his finger on the

trigger. The crowd thickened; and in the road itself there was a single

file of cabs, carts, and even private carriages. Almost every moment

detachments of prisoners, mostly blouses, passed, escorted by cavalry;

then a yellow flag was seen, announcing the approach of an ambulance, or

long covered vehicle, filled with wounded soldiers; then hearses; more

prisoners, more ambulances, orderly dragoons at full gallop, orderlies,

military surgeons in their cocked hats and long frock coats, broughams

with smart general officers inside, all smoking.

As to the soldiers, they appear never to leave off smoking. They smoke in

the guard-room, off duty, and even when on guard. An eye-witness of the

combat told me that many of the soldiers had, when charging, short pipes

in their mouths, and the officers, almost invariably, smoked cigars.

At three, there was more trumpeting, more drumming, a general backing of

horses on the foot-passengers, announcing the approach of some important

event. A cloud of cavalry came galloping by; then, a numerous and

brilliant group of staff-officers. In the midst of these, attired in the

uniform of a general of the National Guard, rode Louis Napoleon Bonaparte.

I saw him again the following day in the Champs Elysée, riding with a

single English groom behind him; and again in a chariot, escorted by

cuirassiers.

When he had passed, I essayed a further progress toward the Rue St. Denis;

but the hedge of bayonets still bristled as ominously as ever. I went into

a little tobacconist’s shop; and the pretty _marchande_ showed me a

frightful trace of the passage of a cannon ball, which had gone right

through the shutter and glass, smashed cases on cases of cigars, and half

demolished the little tobacconist’s parlor.

My countrymen were in great force on the Boulevards, walking arm and arm,

four abreast, as it is the proud custom of Britons to do. From them, I

heard, how Major Pongo, of the Company’s service, would certainly have

placed his sword at the disposal of the Government in support of law and

order, had he not been confined to his bed with a severe attack of

rheumatism: how Mr. Bellows, Parisian correspondent to the “Evening

Grumbler,” had been actually led out to be shot, and was only saved by the

interposition of his tailor, who was a sergeant in the National Guard; and

who, passing by, though not on duty, exerted his influence with the

military authorities, to save the life of Mr. Bellows; how the Reverend

Mr. Faldstool, _ministre Anglican_, was discovered in a corn-bin, moaning

piteously: how Bluckey, the man who talked so much about the Pytchley

hounds, and of the astonishing leaps he had taken when riding after them,

concealed himself in a coal-cellar, and lying down on his face, never

stirred from that position from noon till midnight on Thursday (although

I, to be sure, have no right to taunt him with his prudence): how,

finally, M’Gropus, the Scotch surgeon, bolted incontinently in a cab, with

an immense quantity of luggage, toward the _Chemin-de-fer du Nord_; and,

being stopped in the Rue St. Denis, was ignominiously turned out of his

vehicle by the mob; the cab, together with M’Gropus’s trunks, being

immediately converted into the nucleus of a barricade:—how, returning the

following morning to see whether he could recover any portion of his

effects, he found the barricades in the possession of the military, who

were quietly cooking their soup over a fire principally fed by the

remnants of his trunks and portmanteaus; whereupon, frantically

endeavoring to rescue some _disjecta membra_ of his property from the

wreck, he was hustled and bonneted by the soldiery, threatened with

arrest, and summary military vengeance, and ultimately paraded from the

vicinity of the bivouac, by bayonets with sharp points.

With the merits or demerits of the struggle, I have nothing to do. But I

saw the horrible ferocity and brutality of this ruthless soldiery. I saw

them bursting into shops, to search for arms or fugitives; dragging the

inmates forth, like sheep from a slaughter-house, smashing the furniture

and windows. I saw them, when making a passage for a convoy of prisoners,

or a wagon full of wounded, strike wantonly at the bystanders, with the

butt-ends of their muskets, and thrust at them with their bayonets. I

might have seen more; but my exploring inclination was rapidly subdued by

a gigantic Lancer at the corner of the Rue Richelieu; who seeing me stand

still for a moment, stooped from his horse, and putting his pistol to my

head (right between the eyes) told me to “_traverser_!” As I believed he

would infallibly have blown my brains out in another minute, I turned and

fled. So much for what I saw. I know, as far as a man can know, from

trustworthy persons, from eye-witnesses, from patent and notorious report,

that the military, who are now the sole and supreme masters of that

unhappy city and country, have been perpetrating most frightful

barbarities since the riots were over. I know that, from the Thursday I

arrived, to the Thursday I left Paris, they were daily shooting their

prisoners in cold blood; that a man, caught on the Pont Neuf, drunk with

the gunpowder-brandy of the cabarets, and shouting some balderdash about

the _République démocratique et sociale_, was dragged into the Prefecture

of Police, and, some soldiers’ cartridges having been found in his pocket,

was led into the court-yard, and there and then, untried, unshriven,

unaneled—shot! I know that in the Champ de Mars one hundred and fifty-six

men were executed; and I _heard_ one horrible story (so horrible that I

can scarcely credit it) that a batch of prisoners were tied together with

ropes like a fagot of wood; and that the struggling mass was fired into,

until not a limb moved, nor a groan was uttered. I know—and my informant

was a clerk in the office of the Ministry of War—that the official return

of insurgents killed was _two thousand and seven_, and of soldiers

_fifteen_. Rather long odds!

We were in-doors betimes this Friday evening, comparing notes busily, as

to what we had seen during the day. We momentarily expected to hear the

artillery again, but, thank Heaven, the bloodshed in the streets at least

was over; and though Paris was still a city in a siege, the barricades

were all demolished; and another struggle was for the moment crushed.

The streets next day were full of hearses; but even the number of funerals

that took place were insignificant, in comparison to the stacks of corpses

which were cast into deep trenches without shroud or coffin, and covered

with quicklime. I went to the Morgue in the afternoon, and found that

dismal charnel-house fully tenanted. Every one of the fourteen beds had a

corpse; some, dead with gunshot wounds; some, sabred; some, horribly

mutilated by cannon-balls. There was a _queue_ outside of at least two

thousand people, laughing, talking, smoking, eating apples, as though it

was some pleasant spectacle they were going to, instead of that frightful

exhibition. Yet, in this laughing, talking, smoking crowd, there were

fathers who had missed their sons; sons who came there dreading to see the

corpses of their fathers; wives of Socialist workmen, sick with the almost

certainty of finding the bodies of their husbands. The bodies were only

exposed six hours; but the clothes remained—a very grove of blouses. The

neighboring churches were hung with black, and there were funeral services

at St. Roch and at the Madeleine.

And yet—with this Golgotha so close; with the blood not yet dry on the

Boulevards; with corpses yet lying about the streets; with five thousand

soldiers bivouacking in the Champs Elysées; with mourning and lamentation

in almost every street; with a brutal military in almost every

printing-office, tavern, café; with proclamations threatening death and

confiscation covering the walls; with the city in a siege, without a

legislature, without laws, without a government—this extraordinary people

was, the next night, dancing and flirting at the Salle Valentino, or the

Prado, lounging in the _foyers_ of the Italian Opera, gossiping over their

_eau-sucrée_, or squabbling over their dominoes outside and inside the

cafés. I saw Rachel in “Les Horaces;” I went to the _Variétés_, the _Opéra

Comique_, and no end of theatres; and as we walked home at night through

lines of soldiers, brooding over their bivouacs, I went into a restaurant,

and asking whether it had been a ball which had starred the magnificent

pier-glass before me, got for answer, “Ball, sir!—cannon-ball, sir!—yes,

sir!” for all the world as though I had inquired about the mutton being in

good cut, or asparagus in season!

So, while they were shooting prisoners and dancing the Schottische at the

Casino; burying their dead; selling _breloques_ for watch-chains in the

Palais Royal; demolishing barricades, and staring at the caricatures in M.

Aubert’s windows; taking the wounded to the hospitals, and stock-jobbing

on the Bourse; I went about my business, as well as the state of siege

would let me. Turning my face homeward, I took the Rouen and Havre

Railway, and so, _viâ_ Southampton, to London. As I saw the last cocked

hat of the last gendarme disappear with the receding pier at Havre, a

pleasant vision of the blue-coats, oil-skin hats, and lettered collars of

the land I was going to, swam before my eyes; and, I must say that,

descending the companion-ladder, I thanked Heaven I was an Englishman. I

was excessively sea-sick, but not the less thankful; and getting at last

to sleep, dreamed of the Bill of Rights and Habeas Corpus. I wonder how

_they_ would flourish amidst Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, and Musketry!

WHAT BECOMES OF THE RIND?

Of all the occupations that exercise the ordinary energies of human

beings, the most abstracting is that of sucking an orange. It seems to

employ the whole faculties for the time being. There is an earnestness of

purpose in the individual so employed—an impassioned determination to

accomplish what he has undertaken—that creates a kindred excitement in the

bystanders. His air is thoughtful; his eye severe, not to say relentless;

and although his mouth is full of inarticulate sounds, conversation is out

of the question. But the mind is busy although the tongue is silent; and

when the deed is accomplished, the collapsed spheroid seems to swell anew

with the ideas to which the exercise had given birth. One of these ideas

we shall catch and fix, for occurring as it did to ourselves, it is our

own property: it was contained in the question that rose suddenly in our

mind as we looked at the ruin we had made—What becomes of the rind?

And this is no light question; no unimportant or merely curious pastime

for a vacant moment. In our case it became more and more serious; it clung

and grappled, till it hung upon our meditations like the albatross round

the neck of the Ancient Mariner. Only consider what a subject it embraces.

The orange, it is true, and its congener the lemon, are Celestial fruits,

owing their origin to the central flowery land; but, thanks to the

Portuguese, they are now domesticated in Europe, and placed within the

reach of such northern countries as ours, where the cold prohibits their

growth. Some of us no doubt force them in an artificial climate, at the

expense of perhaps half a guinea apiece; but the bulk of the nation are

content to receive them from other regions at little more than the cost of

apples. Now the quantity we (the English) thus import every year from the

Azores, Spain, Portugal, Italy, Malta, and other places, is about 300,000

chests, and each of these chests contains about 650 oranges, all wrapped

separately in paper. But beside these we are in the habit of purchasing a

large quantity, entered at the custom-house by number, and several

thousand pounds’ worth, entered at value; so that the whole number of

oranges and lemons we consume in this country may be reckoned modestly at

220,000,000! Surely, then, it is not surprising that while engaged in the

meditative employment alluded to, we should demand with a feeling of

strong interest—What becomes of the rind?

Every body knows that Scotch marmalade uses up the rinds of a great many

Seville oranges, as well as an unknown quantity of turnip skins and stalks

of the bore-cole, the latter known to the Caledonian manipulators of the

preserve as “kail-custocks.” Every body understands also, that not a few

of the rinds of edible oranges take up a position on the pavement, where

their mission is to bring about the downfall of sundry passers-by thus

accomplishing the fracture of a not inconsiderable number—taking one month

with another throughout the season—of arms, legs, and occiputs. It is

likewise sufficiently public that a variety of drinks are assisted by the

hot, pungent rinds of oranges and lemons as well as by the juice; but

notwithstanding all these deductions, together with that of the great

quantity thrown away as absolute refuse, we shall find a number of rinds

unaccounted for large enough to puzzle by its magnitude the Statistical

Society. This mystery, however, we have succeeded in penetrating, and

although hardly hoping to carry the faith of the reader along with us, we

proceed to unfold it: it is contained in the single monosyllable, _peel_.

Orange-peel, lemon-peel, citron-peel—these are the explanation: the

last-mentioned fruit—imported from Sicily, Madeira, and the Canary

Islands—being hardly distinguishable from a lemon except by its somewhat

less acid pulp and more pungent rind. Even a very careless observer can

hardly fail to be struck at this season by the heaps of those candied

rinds displayed in the grocers’ windows; but the wildest imagination could

not guess at any thing so extravagant as the quantity of the fruit thus

used; and even when we learn that upward of 600 _tons of peel_ are

manufactured in the year, it is a hopeless task to attempt to separate

that prodigious bulk into its constituent parts. Six hundred tons of

candied peel! of a condiment employed chiefly if not wholly, in small

quantities in the composition of puddings and cakes. Six hundred

tons—12,000 hundredweights—1,344,000 pounds—21,504,000 ounces! But having

once got possession of the fact, see how suggestive it is. Let us lump the

puddings and cakes in one; let us call them all puddings—plum-puddings of

four pounds’ weight. We find, on consulting the best authorities—for we

would not presume to dogmatize on such a subject—that the quantity of peel

used in the composition of such a work is two ounces; and thus we are led

to the conclusion that we Britishers devour in the course of a year

10,752,000 full-sized, respectable plum-puddings, irrespective of all such

articles as are not adorned and enriched with candied peel.

Citrons intended for peel are imported in brine, but oranges and lemons in

boxes. All are ripe in December, January, and February; but as it would be

inconvenient to preserve so vast a quantity at the same time, the juice is

squeezed out, and the collapsed fruit packed in pipes, with salt and

water, till wanted. When the time for preserving comes, it is taken from

the pipes, and boiled till soft enough to admit of the pulp being scooped

out; then the rind is laid in tubs or cisterns, and melted sugar poured

over it. Here it lies for three or four weeks; and then the sugar is

drained away, and the rind placed on trays in a room constructed for the

purpose. It now assumes the name of “dried peel,” and is stored away in

the original orange and lemon boxes, till wanted for candying.

The other constituents of a plum-pudding add but little testimony on the

subject of number. We can not even guess the proportion of the 170,000

lbs. of nutmegs we receive from the Moluccas, and our own possessions in

the Malay Straits, which may be thus employed; nor how much cinnamon

Ceylon sends us for the purpose in her annual remittance of about 16,000

lbs.;(6) nor what quantity of almonds is abstracted, with a similar view,

from the 9000 cwts. we retain for our own consumption from the

importations from Spain and Northern Africa. Currants are more to our

purpose—for that small Corinth grape, the produce of the islands of Zante,

Cephalonia, and Ithaca, and of the Morea, which comes to us so thickly

coated with dust that we might seem to import vineyard and all—belongs,

like the candied peel, almost exclusively to cakes and puddings. Of this

fruit we devour in the year about 180,000 cwts. Raisins, being in more

general use—at the dessert, for instance, and in making sweet wine—are in

still greater demand; we can not do with less than 240,000 cwts of them.

They are named from the place where they grow—such as Smyrna or Valencia;

or from the grape—such as muscatel, bloom, or sultana; but the quality

depends, we believe, chiefly on the mode of cure. The best are called

raisins of the sun, and are preserved by cutting half through the stalks

of the branches when nearly ripe, and leaving them to dry and candy in the

genial rays. The next quality is gathered when completely ripe, dipped in

a lye of the ashes of the burned tendrils, and spread out to bake in the

sun. The inferior is dried in an oven. The black Smyrna grape is the

cheapest; and the muscatels of Malaga are the dearest.

With flour, sugar, brandy, &c., we do not propose to interfere; for

although the quantities of these articles thus consumed are immense, they

bear but a small proportion to the whole importations. Eggs, however, are

in a different category. Eggs are essential to the whole pudding race; and

without having our minds opened, as they now are, to the full greatness of

the plum-pudding, it would be difficult for us to discover the rationale

of the vast trade we carry on in eggs. In our youthful days, when, as yet,

plum-puddingism was with us in its early, empirical state, we used to

consider “egg-merchant” a term of ridicule, resembling the term

“timber-merchant,” as applied to a vender of matches. But we now look with

respect upon an egg-merchant, as an individual who manages an important

part of the trade of this country with France and Belgium; not to mention

its internal traffic in the same commodity. It strikes us, however, that

on this subject the Frenchman and Belgian are wiser in their generation

than ourselves. We could produce our own eggs easily enough if we would

take the trouble; but rather than do this we hire them to do it for us, at

an expense of several scores of thousands sterling in the year. They, of

course, are very much obliged to us, though a little amused no doubt at

the eccentricity of John Bull; and with the utmost alacrity supply us

annually with about 90,000,000 eggs. John eats his foreign pudding,

however—he is partial to foreign things—with great gravity, and only

unbends into a smile when he sees his few chickens hopping about the

farm-yard, the amusement of his children, or the little perquisite,

perhaps, of his wife. He occasionally eats a newly-laid egg, the date of

its birth being carefully registered upon the shell; thinks it a very

clever thing in him to provide his own luxuries; and is decidedly of

opinion that an English egg is worth two of the mounseers’. His neglect of

this branch of rural economy, however, does not prevent his wondering

sometimes how these fellows contrive to make the two ends of the year

meet, when he himself finds it so difficult a matter to get plums to his

pudding.

What becomes of the rind? We have shown what becomes of the rind. We have

shown what apparently inconsiderable matters swell up the commerce of a

great country. A plum-pudding is no joke. It assembles within itself the

contributions of the whole world, and gives a fillip to industry among the

most distant tribes and nations. But it is important likewise in other

respects. Morally and socially considered, its influence is immense. At

this season of the year, more especially, it is a bond of family union,

and a symbol of friendly hospitality. We would not give a straw for that

man, woman, or child, in the frank, cordial circles of Old English life,

who does not hail its appearance on the table with a smile and a word of

welcome. Look at its round, brown, honest, unctuous face, dotted with

almonds and fragrant peel, surmounted with a sprig of holly, and radiant

amid the flames of burning brandy! Who is for plum-pudding? We are, to be

sure. What a rich perfume as it breaks on the plate! And this fragrant

peel, so distinguishable amid the exhalations! ha! Delaeioucious!—_that’s_

what becomes of the rind!

MAZZINI, THE ITALIAN LIBERAL.

Giuseppe Mazzini is descended from a highly honorable family, and of

talented and respectable parentage; his father was an esteemed physician,

and also professor of anatomy at the University in Genoa, his native city.

His mother is still living, an excellent and dignified lady, as proud of

her Giuseppe, as Madame Letitia was of her Napoleon.

When young, Mazzini was remarkably handsome, and will be deemed so now in

his mature years, by all who, in the expression of his countenance, his

dark intelligent eye, and expansive intellectual forehead, can overlook

the deep, we may say premature furrows, traced in that forehead by the

never resting labors of a mind of indomitable activity, the constantly

renewing anxieties of a generous heart for the welfare of the human race;

and above all for that oppressed portion of it which claimed his earliest

sympathies, as his compatriots, his brothers, alike in the wrongs they

labored under, and their determined resolution to combat with them in

every shape, and to win in the contest, either a glorious victory, or an

honorable death. The youth of Mazzini was spent in witnessing the

struggles of his country for liberty. The fruitlessness of all these

struggles, the conviction they carried with them in their repeated

defeats, that there was something radically wrong in their organization,

or in the manner in which they were carried out, only excited ardent

desires in him to trace the evil to its root, and point out the remedy

accordingly: his genius naturally bent toward studies,

“High passions and high actions best describing,”

concentrated all its energies upon the situation of Italy, and on the

means of rescuing her from the despotism that preyed upon her very vitals,

and rendered even the choicest gifts of nature, with which she is so

abundantly endowed, not merely nugatory, but an absolute disadvantage and

a curse.

The revolution in France of July, 1830, communicated an electric flame

throughout Italy, which in the ensuing year kindled insurrections in

Modena, Parma, and other departments: the light of victory hovered over

them for a moment, but for a moment only. Aid had been hoped for from the

Citizen King, but in his very outset Louis Philippe evinced the political

caution which marked his reign. Austria, reassured by the conviction she

felt of his determination to remain neuter in the struggles of others for

the same freedom which had placed himself upon a throne, again advanced

upon the cities she had evacuated; the insurgents disappointed,

bewildered, paralyzed, offered no further resistance, and again all was

wrapped in the gloom of despotism. Then came its invariable attendant

denunciations, imprisonments, exile, to all who were suspected of a love

of liberty, whether it had impelled them to deeds, or only influenced

their words.

Mazzini, though a very young man at this period, was already known in

Italy as an author. He had published a weekly literary Gazette, at Genoa,

in 1828, called the “_Indicatore Genovese,_” but this journal being

strangled, ere the year was out, under the double supervision of a civil

and an ecclesiastical censorship, he began another at Leghorn under the

title of the “_Indicatore Livornese_” which in a few months succumbed

under the same fate. He then beguiled his forced inactivity with

furnishing an admirable essay on European literature, and other

contributions, to the “_Antologia di Firenze_,” but the review was made

the subject of a prosecution, soon after its commencement, at the

instigation of the Austrian government, and was finally suppressed. Under

these circumstances it was not likely that Mazzini would escape the fate

of his party. He was put under arrest, along with many others, though it

should seem that the strongest accusation which could be brought against

him was that he indulged in habits of thinking; for when his father went

to the governor of the city to inquire what offense his son had committed,

that could authorize his arrest, the worthy functionary, who appears

himself to have belonged to the _Dogberry_ faction, could only allege that

the young man was “in the habit of walking every evening in the fields and

gardens of the suburbs, alone, and wrapped in meditation;” wisely adding,

as his own comment on the matter, “What on earth can he have at his age to

think about? we do not like so much thinking on the part of young people,

without knowing the subject of their thoughts.”

Mazzini and his companions were tried at Turin by a commission of

Senators, embodied for the purpose; they were all acquitted for want of

any evidence against them, of evil acts or intentions: nevertheless

Mazzini, notwithstanding this virtual acknowledgment of his innocence, was

treated with the severity due only to convicted guilt, and detained five

months in solitary imprisonment, in the fortress of Savona; a tyrannical

act of injustice, not likely to turn the current of his thoughts, or to

cure him of his meditative propensities. At length his prison doors were

reluctantly opened to him—he was free to depart, but not to remain in

Italy; accordingly he took refuge in France, along with a crowd of exiles

under similar circumstances, and it was there, in June 1831, that the

fruits of his long-nursed musings burst forth, in his address to Charles

Albert of Savoy, “_A Carlo Alberto di Savoia un Italiano_,” on the

accession of that prince to the throne of Sardinia. This address has been

justly termed by Mariotti, “a flash of divine eloquence, such as never

before shone over Italy. His companions in misfortune gathered in

adoration, and bent before his powerful genius. Ere the year had elapsed,

he became the heart and soul of the Italian movement. He was the ruler of

a state of his own creation—the king of Young Italy.”

Eager to turn his popularity, alike with his abilities, to the best

account for his country, Mazzini now established himself at Marseilles, as

the editor of a journal to which he gave the name of “_La Giovine

Italia_,” as the expression of his favorite theory of intrusting the great

cause of Italian liberty to the young, the ardent, the hopeful; and

moreover the unpledged and therefore unfettered; rather than to those who,

grown old under a timid, temporizing policy, endeavored in vain to

disentangle themselves from the net of foreign diplomacy; and who, while

they flattered themselves they were endeavoring to rescue their country

from slavery, were in fact still themselves the slaves of high-sounding

names, and veered round with all the changing views of those who bore

them.

Anxious to enlist in his cause the finest talents of the day, Mazzini

invited many persons of acknowledged reputation and ability to contribute

to his journal; among them the venerable and justly celebrated Sismondi,

author of the “History of the Italian Republics,” and many other works of

importance. Sismondi willingly complied, for he loved the high-minded

character of the young Italian, and was glad to share in his literary

labors, in order that he might be able occasionally to rein in, with a

gentle yet judicious hand, the too impetuous spirit which, in fearlessly

endeavoring to overleap every obstacle that stood before it, overlooked

the destruction that might await an error of calculation: he therefore

immediately replied, “If by my name, my example, I can be useful to that

Italy which I love as if it were my own country, which I shall never cease

to serve, to the very utmost of my ability, and for which I shall never

cease to hope, then most willingly do I promise you my co-operation.”

The generous ardor of the Genevese _Economiste_ was not more pleasing to

behold than the filial deference of the young republican; for Sismondi

spared neither remonstrance nor advice, where he thought the interests of

his young colleague, or of the sacred cause in which he was embarked,

likely to be endangered by his precipitancy. But neither arguments nor

advice had any power over the fixed idea in Mazzini’s mind that Italian

liberty was to spring forth from the Italian people, and that Italy,

formerly free in her numerous republics, would, after five hundred years

of slavery, become free again in one, alone and indivisible. Meanwhile his

journal extended its circulation and its influence: supplied through the

channel of an active correspondence with abundant information of all that

was going on in the peninsula, he astonished and excited the public more

and more every day, by the facts he laid before them; he unvailed the

cruelties of the tribunals in Romagna, of the government in Modena, of the

police in Naples; he brought forth the unhappy prisoners from their cells,

and portrayed them in every varied attitude of their sufferings, with a

vividness that thrilled the compassionate with horror, and worked the

ardent up to rage. It would be difficult for us in our own present state

of _press_ and _post_, to imagine the possibility of our counties

remaining days and weeks in ignorance of what was passing among each

other. Yet so it was in the Italian provinces: under the lynx-eyed

vigilance of government officials and spies, the public journals contained

little more than details of church ceremonies, or the local affairs of

petty municipalities: pamphlets were unknown, and news of a political kind

traveled slowly and uncertainly from mouth to mouth, always in dread of

some listening ear being ready to catch the words as they floated in the

air. Hence the transactions in Romagna and Naples were long unknown to

upper Italy; the excitement therefore that the appearance of Mazzini’s

journal must have occasioned, revealing as it did facts upon facts

calculated to inspire even the most indifferent with a thirst for

vengeance, may easily be imagined, but the modes by which it found

circulation under every obstacle are more difficult to comprehend. It is

scarcely necessary to say how strictly it was prohibited throughout Italy;

the possession of it was denounced as a crime, to be punished with three

years of the galleys, besides the possessor being subjected for the

remainder of his days to the suspicion of being connected with

revolutionary factions. The smugglers, albeit accustomed to danger and

little susceptible of fear, refused to have any thing to do with it;

nevertheless its distribution was effected far and wide; copies were

dispatched from Marseilles, by merchant vessels, in parcels directed to

persons at places fixed upon for the purpose of receiving them; they thus

reached the Committees of “Young Italy” in each city, and were by them

transmitted to the subscribers, that is to say, to every one conjoined to

the cause; thus the Society itself remained in the shade, while the

journal, passed from hand to hand, was every where eagerly perused. In

many places it was left, in the obscurity of evening, upon the thresholds

of the shops, and at the doors of the theatres, _cafés_, and other

frequented places. Never was a periodical paper edited with such marvelous

activity, or circulated with such unshaken courage. The leaders risked

their heads in its service, and not one of them hesitated so to do. In the

same manner has the clandestine press at Rome, since the reinstatement of

the priestly government, fearlessly pursued its task of exposing the

cruelties, injustice, and meanness of that government in its every act—and

the cardinals have not unfrequently had to go to breakfast, with what

appetite they might, after finding on their tables a sheet, of which the

ink had not had time to dry, wherein their unworthy deeds were set forth

and commented upon, in the accents of all others strangest to “ears

polite”—that is to say, of _truth_.

The effect of “_La Giovine Italia_” upon the public mind became more and

more developed every day. Genoa and Alexandria were the first to show its

influence. Turin, Chamberry, and Lombardy followed. Central Italy, crushed

for the moment, remained passive; but the flag of republicanism was

unfurled, it only waited the moment to lift it up, and that moment came,

every way, too soon. The government of Charles Albert was the first to

take hostile measures against Young Italy. It saw that the influence of

the party was beginning to spread in the army; and it immediately pointed

its cannons against Genoa; three persons were executed in that city, three

at Chamberry, and six at Alexandria; while Austria stocked her favorite

fortress of Speilberg with such as were objects of suspicion, but against

whom no charge could be substantiated. These rigorous measures struck

terror through the peninsula, and instantly stopped the propagandism of

the journal; still hundreds of emigrants, fearful of being compromised,

poured in from Italy, and the police redoubled its vigilance in watching

over their proceedings. But a step backward was what Mazzini never could

take; he looked his dangers full in the face, and tempted fate, not only

for himself, but, unhappily, for his colleagues also. The sufferings of

his party seemed to call upon him for vengeance, and he sought it by

joining himself to a Polish committee, and projecting the attempt upon

Savoy, in 1833.

It is a singular fact in the moral history of man, that in the course of

his life he almost invariably falls into some error, or commits some

fault, which he has either condemned, or suffered from, in others. This

appears to have been notoriously the case in this ill-planned,

ill-organized, ill-conducted expedition. It was planned in a secret

society, whereas Mazzini had always advocated open appeals to the people;

he had always inculcated distrust of heads of parties, and he intrusted

the command of the troops to General Romarino, a Pole, He had insisted

upon the necessity of whole provinces rising _en masse_, if a revolution

was to be effected, and he saw General Romarino set out from Geneva, to

carry Savoy, with a handful of men. Mazzini himself, with his utmost

efforts, scarcely got together five hundred followers, of whom not one

half were Italians; and it was with difficulty that they, tracked every

where by the police, succeeded in rallying at the small village of

Annemasse, to the amount of two hundred; when lo! Romarino, who had always

shown himself wavering and undecided, turned his back upon them, even

before they had cast eyes upon the enemy—and thus in one single day did

Mazzini see vanish at once, the hopes and toils of two years of incessant

labor and anxiety. In vain he plied his pen still more vigorously, and

called around him “Young Switzerland,” “Young Poland,” “Young France,” and

even “Young Europe” at large; few responded to his ardent voice: the

Moderates, taking advantage of his discomfiture, and appealing to the

selfish prudence of all parties, under the plausible argument of trusting

in moral force, turned, for the time, the tide of popular opinion, and

Mazzini, banished from France, proscribed in Switzerland, and sentenced to

death in Italy, sought an asylum in England, where he betook himself to

the literary pursuits which had formed the delight of his younger years,

and to the benevolent endeavor of improving the moral state of the humbler

classes of his countrymen whom he found scattered about in London;

particularly of the poor organ boys, whom, sold by venal parents to sordid

masters, or lured from their beautiful native scenes by fallacious

representations, he beheld lost in ignorance, enslaved in vice, and

suffering under every species of ill-treatment and destitution. His

founding an evening school for these unfortunate outcasts was a mortal

offense in the eyes of the Roman Catholic priests of every

denomination—for a layman to presume to instruct the ignorant, and to hold

out a hand to the helpless, was, in their eyes, an unpardonable crime; and

they strove to vilify all his acts by connecting them with covert designs

of exciting anarchy and rebellion, even in the land that had afforded him

a refuge. Nevertheless, the blameless tenor of his domestic life, the

magnanimity with which he bore his disappointments and his trials, and the

respect in which he was held both for his talents and his private

character, which no calumny has ever yet been able to impugn, would have

insured him as undisturbed a tranquillity as his anxiety for his country,

ever throbbing in his breast, could have permitted him, had he not

suddenly been brought forth to public notice, by the English government

committing a flagrant act of injustice toward him, which the more it

endeavored to explain and vindicate, the more odium it brought upon

itself—we allude to the opening of Mazzini’s letters at the General

Post-Office in 1844, by order of Lord Aberdeen and the _Right Honorable_

Sir James Graham, at the instigation of Austrian jealousies and fears. The

disgraceful disclosures that were brought forward on that occasion, will

be fresh in the memory of many of our readers.

The stirring events of Italy in 1847, naturally turned all the thoughts

and hopes of Mazzini again to his country, and to the heightening, by his

presence, the effect of his doctrines, so long, so ardently preached. But

we must be brief; we shall, therefore, pass over intervening steps, and

behold him in Rome—Rome proclaimed a republic, Rome, at that moment,

promising to realize all the most glorious visions of his youth, all the

most thoughtfully-revolved theories of his matured powers. He was elected

on the 3d of March, 1849, a deputy in the National Assembly, by 8982

votes, being nearly one thousand ahead of seven other candidates elected

at the same time, consequently at the top of the poll. On the 31st of the

same month, the dissolution of the Executive Committee was decreed by the

Constituent Assembly, and the government of the republic appointed to be

intrusted to a Triumvirate, “with unlimited powers.” The citizens chosen

for this important office were Carlo Armellini, Giuseppe Mazzini, and

Aurelio Saffi. How wisely, temperately, and benevolently they acquitted

themselves of the task assigned them, under the most complicated and

trying circumstances that ever legislators had to struggle with, is known

to all. The contrast of their conduct with that of the Cardinal

Triumvirate that succeeded them, will live in the page of impartial

history, to the honor of the representatives of the People, the disgrace

of the representatives of the Church.

It is needless to say that on the entrance of the French into Rome,

Mazzini, with his illustrious colleagues, and many other distinguished

patriots, prepared to quit it. Again he found an asylum in England, and

again he betook himself to the furtherance of the cause to which all his

faculties are devoted, to the emancipation of Italy. “Twenty years,” he

says, in the preliminary note to his pamphlet recently published,

entitled, “The Charge of Terrorism in Rome, during the Government of the

Republic, refuted by Facts and Documents”—“Twenty years, attended with the

usual amount of cares, woes, and deceptions, have rolled around me since

my first step in the career. But my soul is as calm, my hands are as pure,

my faith is as unshaken, and bright with hope for my awakened country, as

in my young years. With these gifts one may well endure with a smile such

little annoyances as may arise from such writers as Mr. Cochrane, and Mr.

Macfarlane.” We should think so!

The first publication of Mazzini’s that attracted notice after his return

to England, was his “Letter to Messrs. De Tocqueville and De Falloux,

Ministers of France.” It excited universal interest. The simple truth of

its statements, which no sophistry of the parties to whom it was addressed

could deny, the justice of its reproaches, the manly sentiments it set

forth, gained it the sympathy of all persons of candor and liberal views,

and added a deeper tinge of shame on the conduct, if not on the cheek, of

the President, by whose command the unjust, inconsistent, and we may add

barbarous attack upon Republican Rome was made by Republican France.

From the moment that Mazzini set his foot again upon English ground, as a

refugee himself, he turned his thoughts toward the sufferings of his

fellow-refugees, who still gathered around him with unshaken devotedness

and admiration. By his exertions a committee was formed for “The Italian

Refugee Fund.” A touching address was inserted by it in the leading

journals, wherein, after briefly setting forth the claims of the Italian

refugees upon the compassion of the public, it proceeded: “It is not the

only sorrow of the Italian exiles that a noble cause is, for the time

being, lost. Proscribed and driven from their watch over the beautiful

country of their birth and their affections, they seek a refuge here in

England, almost the only free land where they may set foot. Hunted by

their and the world’s enemies, forlorn and penniless, reduced to

indigence, bereft of almost all that makes life dear, and bringing nothing

from the wreck beyond the Mediterranean Sea, but hope in the eternal might

of the principles they have upheld, the Committee appeals in their behalf

to Englishmen, for present help, that they may not die of want, where they

have found a home.”

Mazzini’s next care was, to found a “Society of the Friends of Italy,” the

objects of which are, by public meetings, lectures, and the press, to

promote a correct appreciation of the Italian question, and to aid the

cause of the political and religious liberty of the Italian people.

Of Mazzini’s private character we believe there is, among those who know

him, but one opinion, that he is the soul of honor, candid and

compassionate in his nature, and of almost woman’s tenderness in his

friendships and attachments. “I have had the honor,” says Thomas Carlyle,

“to know Mr. Mazzini for a series of years, and whatever I may think of

his practical insight and skill in worldly affairs, I can with great

freedom testify to all men, that he, if I have ever seen one such, is a

man of genius and virtue; a man of sterling virtue, humanity, and

nobleness of mind; one of those rare men, numerable, unfortunately, but as

units in this world, who are worthy to be called Martyr souls.” Equally

honorable to him is the testimony of M. Lesseps, the French Envoy to the

Roman Republic, in the Memoir of his Mission: “I fear the less making

known here the opinion I had of Mazzini, with whom I was already in open

strife, namely, that during the whole series of our negotiations, I had

but to congratulate myself on his loyalty, and the moderation of his

character, which have earned for him all my esteem.... Now that he has

fallen from power, and that he seeks, doubtless, an asylum in a foreign

land, I ought to render homage to the nobleness of his sentiments, to his

conviction of his principles, to his high capacity, and to his courage.”

The man who can win, from the depths of disappointment and adversity, such

a tribute from one politically opposed to him, must have something very

extraordinary in himself—and such a man is Mazzini. The faults alleged

against him are his enthusiasm, which leads him into rash and precipitant

measures, and his indomitable will; or, we would rather call it, his

unconquerable tenacity of purpose, which is deaf to argument, and spurns

control; but it is only his political character that is liable to these

charges. His virtues are all his own. When he was in office at Rome he

gave the whole of the salary allotted to him to the hospitals, stating

that his own private income, though moderate, was sufficient for his

wants; and never does distress, in any shape that he may have the power to

alleviate, appeal to him in vain. Had he not concentrated all his

abilities, all his energies upon the one grand object of his life, the

independence of his country, he would have been as eminent in the field of

literature, as he is in that of politics. He writes with equal facility

and elegance in the French and English languages as in his own, and his

beautiful memoir of Ugo Foscolo, his essay upon Art in Italy, in his

review of Grossi’s “Marco Visconti,” and many other admirable

contributions to periodical literature, sufficiently prove that if the

peculiar aspect of the times in which he has lived had not impelled him

into public life, he would have found abundant resource in more retired

pursuits, for his own enjoyment, and the benefit of society.

CHEWING THE BUYO. A SKETCH OF THE PHILIPPINES.

With a population of 3,000,000—part of which has been for centuries the

colony of a European power—and producing many of the tropical products of

commerce, the Philippine Isles remain almost as much a _terra incognita_

as China or Japan!

These islands offer a striking illustration of the adage, that “knowledge

is power.” They illustrate the power of civilized man to subdue his savage

fellow. For ages have a few thousand Spanish merchants been enabled to

hold one-third of the native inhabitants in direct and absolute slavery;

while more than another third has acknowledged their sway by the payment

of tribute. The remaining fraction consists of wild tribes, who, too

remote from the seat of commerce and power to make them an object of

conquest, still retain their barbarian independence.

But it has ever been the policy of Spain to shut up her colonies from the

intrusion of foreign enterprise—the policy of all nations who retrograde,

or are hastening toward decay. This is the true reason why so little has

been written about the Philippines and their inhabitants, many of whose

customs are both strange and interesting. Perhaps not the least singular

of these is that which forms the subject of our sketch—_Comer el Buyo_

(Chewing the Buyo).

The buyo is a thing composed of three ingredients—the leaf of the

buyo-palm, a sea-shell which is a species of periwinkle, and a root

similar in properties to the _betel_ of India. It is prepared thus: the

leaves of the palm, from which it has its name, are collected at a certain

season, cut into parallelograms, and spread upon a board or table with the

inner cuticle removed. Upon this the powdered root and the shell, also

pulverized, are spread in a somewhat thick layer. The shell of itself is a

strong alkali, and forms a chief ingredient in the mixture. After having

been exposed for some time to the sun, the buyo-leaf is rolled inwardly,

so as to inclose the other substances, and is thus formed into a regular

cartridge, somewhat resembling a cheroot. Thus prepared, the buyo is ready

for use—that is, to be eaten.

In order that it may be carried conveniently in the pocket, it is packed

in small cases formed out of the leaves of another species of the

palm-tree. Each of these cases contains a dozen cartridges of the buyo.

Buyo-eating is a habit which must be cultivated before it becomes

agreeable. To the stranger, the taste of the buyo is about as pleasant as

tobacco to him who chews it for the first time; and although it is not

followed by the terrible sickness that accompanies the latter operation,

it is sure to excoriate the tongue of the rash tyro, and leave his mouth

and throat almost skinless. Having once undergone this fearful

matriculation, he feels ever afterward a craving to return to the

indulgence, and the appetite is soon confirmed.

In Manilla every one smokes, every one chews buyo—man, woman, and child,

Indian or Spaniard. Strangers who arrive there, though repudiating the

habit for awhile, soon take to it, and become the most confirmed

buyo-eaters in the place. Two acquaintances meet upon the _paseo_, and

stop to exchange their salutations. One pulls out his _cigarrero_, and

says: “Quiere a fumar?” (“Will you smoke?”) The other draws forth the

ever-ready buyo-case, and with equal politeness offers a roll of the

buyos. The commodities are exchanged, each helping himself to a cartridge

and a cigarrito. A flint and steel are speedily produced, the cigars are

lit, and each takes a bite of buyo, while the conversation is all the

while proceeding. Thus three distinct operations are performed by the same

individual at the same time—eating, smoking, and talking! The juice

arising from the buyo in eating is of a strong red color, resembling

blood. This circumstance reminds us of an anecdote which is, I believe,

well authenticated, but at least is universally believed by the people of

Manilla. Some years ago a ship from Spain arrived in the port of Manilla.

Among the passengers was a young doctor from Madrid, who had gone out to

the Philippines with the design of settling in the colony, and pushing his

fortune by means of his profession. On the morning after he had landed,

our doctor sallied forth for a walk on the paseo. He had not proceeded far

when his attention was attracted to a young girl, a native, who was

walking a few paces ahead of him. He observed that every now and then the

girl stooped her head toward the pavement, which was straightway spotted

with blood! Alarmed on the girl’s account, our doctor walked rapidly after

her, observing that she still continued to expectorate blood at intervals

as she went. Before he could come up with her, the girl had reached her

home—a humble cottage in the suburbs—into which she entered. The doctor

followed close upon her heels; and summoning her father and mother,

directed them to send immediately for the priest, as their daughter had

not many hours to live.

The distracted parents, having learned the profession of their visitor,

immediately acceded to his request. The child was put to bed in extreme

affright, having been told what was about to befall her. The nearest

_padré_ was brought, and every thing was arranged to smooth the journey of

her soul through the passes of purgatory. The doctor plied his skill to

the utmost; but in vain. In less than twenty-four hours the girl was dead!

As up to that time the young Indian had always enjoyed excellent health,

the doctor’s prognostication was regarded as an evidence of great and

mysterious skill. The fame of it soon spread through Manilla, and in a few

hours the newly-arrived physician was beleaguered with patients, and in a

fair way of accumulating a fortune. In the midst of all this some one had

the curiosity to ask the doctor how he could possibly have predicted the

death of the girl, seeing that she had been in perfect health a few hours

before. “Predict it!” replied the doctor—“why, sir, I saw her spit blood

enough to have killed her half a dozen times.”

“Blood! How did you know it was blood?”

“How? From the color. How else!”

“But every one spits red in Manilla!”

The doctor, who had already observed this fact, and was laboring under

some uneasiness in regard to it, refused to make any further concessions

at the time; but he had said enough to elucidate the mystery. The thing

soon spread throughout the city; and it became clear to every one that

what the new _medico_ had taken for blood, was nothing else than the red

juice of the buyo, and that the poor girl had died from the fear of death

caused by his prediction!

His patients now fled from him as speedily as they had congregated; and to

avoid the ridicule that awaited him, as well as the indignation of the

friends of the deceased girl, our doctor was fain to escape from Manilla,

and return to Spain in the same ship that had brought him out.

SKETCH OF SUWAROW.

The most able military commander that Russia has produced was in person

miserably thin, and five feet one inch in height. A large mouth, pug nose,

eyes commonly half shut, a few gray side locks, brought over the top of

his bald crown, and a small unpowdered queue, the whole surmounted by a

three-cornered felt hat ornamented with green fringe, composed the “head

and front” of Field-marshal Suwarow; but his eyes, when open, were

piercing, and in battle they were said to be terrifically expressive. When

any thing said or done displeased him, a wavy play of his deeply-wrinkled

forehead betrayed, or rather expressed, his disapproval. He had a

philosophical contempt for dress, and might often be seen drilling his men

in his shirt sleeves. It was only during the severest weather that he wore

cloth his outer garments being usually of white serge turned up with

green. These were the most indifferently made, as were his large, coarsely

greased slouching boots; one of which he very commonly dispensed with,

leaving his kneeband unbuttoned, and his stocking about his heel. A huge

sabre and a single order completed his ordinary costume; but on grand

occasions his field-marshal’s uniform was covered with badges, and he was

fond of telling where and how he had won them. He often arose at midnight,

and welcomed the first soldier he saw moving with a piercing imitation of

the crowing of a cock, in compliment to his early rising. It is said that

in the first Polish war, knowing a spy was in the camp, he issued orders

for an attack at cock-crow, and the enemy expecting it in the morning,

were cut to pieces at nine at night—Suwarow having turned out the troops

an hour before by his well-known cry. The evening before the storm of

Ismail, he informed his columns—“To-morrow morning, an hour before

daybreak, I mean to get up. I shall then dress and wash myself, then say

my prayers, and then give one good cock-crow, and capture Ismail.” When

Ségur asked him if he never took off his clothes at night, he replied,

“No! when I get lazy, and want to have a comfortable sleep, I generally

take off one spur.” Buckets of cold water were thrown over him before he

dressed, and his table was served at seven or eight o’clock with

sandwiches and various messes which Duboscage describes as “_des ragouts

Kosaks detestables_;” to which men paid “the mouth honor, which they would

fain deny, but dare not,” lest Suwarow should consider them effeminate. He

had been very sickly in his youth, but by spare diet and cold bathing had

strengthened and hardened himself into first-rate condition.

MONTHLY RECORD OF CURRENT EVENTS.

United States.

Public attention, during the month, has been mainly fixed upon Kossuth, in

his addresses to the various portions of the people of the United States

with whom he is brought in contact. After the banquet given to him,

December 16th, by the New York Press, noticed in our last Record, Kossuth

remained in New York until Tuesday, the 23d. The Bar of New York gave him

a public reception and banquet on the 18th, at which he made a speech

devoted mainly to the position, that the intervention of Russia in the

affairs of Hungary was a gross violation of the law of nations, deserving

the name of piracy; and that the United States was bound alike in interest

and in duty, to protest against it. He conceded fully that if such a

protest should be made, and treated with contempt, the United States would

be bound in honor to enforce it by war. At the same time he declared his

conviction that there was not the slightest danger of war, and entered

into some historical details to show that Russia would never interfere in

Hungarian affairs, until she was assured that England and the United

States would not resist her.—At the dinner, speeches were made by several

prominent members of the bar. Judge Duer, after a long and very eloquent

eulogy of Kossuth and his cause, was going on to reply to his argument in

favor of the interference of this country for the protection of

international law, but the company refused to allow him to proceed.—On the

20th, in the afternoon, Kossuth addressed a large company of ladies

assembled to meet him, in a speech of exquisite beauty and touching

eloquence. He also delivered an address at the church of the Rev. H. W.

Beecher, in Brooklyn, in which he spoke of the question of religious

liberty, as it is involved in the Hungarian struggle.—During his stay in

New York he was waited on by a great number of deputations from different

sections of the country, and from different classes of the community, who

all made formal addresses to him which were answered with wonderful

pertinence and tact.

On the 23d he left for Philadelphia, and had a public reception the next

day in the old Hall where independence was declared in 1776. His speech

was merely one of thanks. He was entertained at a public dinner in the

evening, and at another on the evening of Friday, the 26th. His speech on

the latter occasion was devoted mainly to the usurpation of Louis

Napoleon, which he regarded as having been dictated by the absolute powers

of Europe, and as certain to end in his destruction. The struggle in

Europe between the principles of freedom and despotism would only be

hastened by this act, and he appealed earnestly to the United States for a

decision, as to whether they would protest against Russian intervention in

Hungarian affairs.

On the 27th he went to Baltimore, where he was most enthusiastically

received. In the evening he made a speech of an hour and a half to the

citizens at the hall of the Maryland Institute, in which he set forth the

connection between Hungary and the rest of Europe, and the reasons why the

United States could not remain indifferent to struggles for liberty in any

part of the world.

On Tuesday, the 30th, he went to Washington, and was received at the cars

by the Senate Committee. Very soon after his arrival he was waited upon by

Mr. Webster, and a great number of other distinguished persons. He also

received a deputation from the Jackson Democratic Association, and one

from the clergy, making to the addresses of both pertinent replies. On

Wednesday, the 31st, he was received by President Fillmore at the

Executive Mansion. In a brief and admirable address he expressed his

fervent thanks for the interest taken by the United States in his

liberation from captivity and in the cause he represented, and for the

action of the President himself in connection with it. He referred, with

warm satisfaction to the declaration in the President’s Message, that the

people of this country could not remain indifferent when the strong arm of

a foreign power is invoked to stifle public sentiment and to repress the

spirit of freedom in any country. The President replied very briefly,

saying that the policy of this country had been long settled, and that his

own sentiments had been freely expressed in his Message; and his language

upon those points would be the same in speaking to foreign nations as to

our own—On Wednesday, the 7th, he was formally invited into both Houses of

Congress. In the evening he was present at a public dinner given to him by

a large number of members of Congress, and other distinguished persons.

His speech on that occasion was a terse and most eloquent sketch of the

position of his country—of its relation to the principles of liberty, and

of the influence upon Europe of the history and example of the United

States. To give that influence its full weight, it was necessary that the

nations of Europe should be left free to manage their own concerns.—Mr.

Webster, on this occasion, also made a long and eloquent speech,

expressing the highest appreciation of Kossuth, his country and his cause,

and declaring his belief that Hungary was admirably fitted for

self-government, and his wish for the speedy establishment of her

independence. He said he would not enter upon any discussion of the

principles involved in this question as it is now presented, because he

had already and repeatedly expressed his views in regard to them.

Referring to his speech upon the Greek Revolution in 1823, and to his

letter to the Austrian Chargé, M. Hulsemann, he said he was prepared to

repeat them word for word and to stand by every thing he had said on those

occasions. General Cass also made an eloquent speech avowing his full and

most cordial assent to the doctrine that the United States ought to

interfere to prevent Russian intervention against the independence of

Hungary. Senator Douglass also expressed his concurrence in these views,

but said he would not go for joining England in any such protest until she

would do justice to Ireland.

Kossuth left Washington on the 12th of January, for Annapolis, where he

remained when this Record was closed.

In Congress no public business of importance had been transacted. Both

Houses spent several days in debating the subject of Kossuth’s reception.

The Legislature of New York met at Albany on Tuesday, the 6th of January.

The Assembly was organized by electing J. C. Heartt, Speaker, and R. W.

Sherman, Clerk—both Whigs. In the Senate, Ira P. Barnes, Democrat, was

elected clerk. The Message of Governor Hunt was sent in on the same day.

He states the aggregate debt of the State at $21,690,802, which the

sinking funds provided will pay off in seventeen years. The aggregate

taxable property of the State is set down at $1100,000,000. The canal

revenues of the last year were $3,722,163: after meeting all

constitutional obligations there remained of this, the sum of $964,432

applicable to the completion of the Canals. The funds devoted to school

purposes amount to $6,612,850. The number of children taught during the

year was 726,291 and the amount expended in teachers’ wages, was

$1,432,696. The whole number of insane persons in the state is 2506;

convicts in the State prisons, 1714. Referring to national topics, the

Message regrets the feelings of hostility sometimes evinced between

different sections—saying that “the Constitution having wisely left the

States free to regulate their domestic affairs, the dissimilarity in their

local institutions furnishes no just ground for mutual complaints and

reproaches.” He trusts that the spirit of disunion and that of fanaticism

will both exhaust themselves without endangering the stability of our

national institutions. Considering at some length the condition and

prospects of the African race in this country, he warmly commends to favor

the scheme of colonization, and the societies formed to carry it out.

The Legislature of Pennsylvania organized at Harrisburgh, on the 6th. In

the House, John S. Rhey, Democrat, was chosen Speaker, receiving 54 out of

88 votes. In the Senate, Mr. Muhlenberg, Democrat, was elected. The

Message of Governor Johnston states that the Commonwealth was never in a

more prosperous condition. The amount of the public debt is $40,114,236,

having been reduced over $700,000 during the last three years, without

retarding any of the interests, or useful plans of the State.

Henry Clay, in a letter dated Dec. 17, and addressed to the General

Assembly of Kentucky, resigns his seat in the Senate of the United States,

the resignation to take effect from the first Monday in September, 1852,

He states that he accepted the office only to aid in settling those

questions which threatened to disturb the peace of the country; and that

object having been accomplished, he wishes to enable the present Assembly

to choose his successor. In the Kentucky Legislature, Archibald Dixon,

(Whig) was elected Senator, on the 30th of December, to fill the vacancy

thus created.

The Library of Congress, kept in the Capitol at Washington, was nearly

destroyed by fire on the 24th December. About 35,000 volumes were burned,

20,000 being saved. A great number of very valuable paintings, medals, &c.

&c., were also destroyed. The cost of the library has not been far from

$200,000.

Hon. JOEL R. POINSETT, long known as a prominent public man in the United

States, died at his residence in Statesburg, S.C., December 12, aged 73.

He was born in South Carolina, educated under the late President Dwight at

Greenfield, Conn., and then sent abroad where he spent five years in study

and travel. Returning home he studied law, but soon repaired again to

Europe, where he visited Russia, and became a special favorite with the

Emperor Alexander, who constantly asked him questions about the

institutions of the United States, and who once said to him, “If I were

not an Emperor, I would be a Republican.” In 1808, he was sent by

President Madison on public business to South America. On his return,

during the war, he was taken prisoner. In 1821 he was elected to Congress

from the Charleston district. In 1822 he was sent to Mexico by President

Monroe, to obtain information concerning the government under Iturbide, in

which he was very successful. He was subsequently appointed Minister to

Mexico, by Mr. Adams, and remained there until 1829. Returning home he

served in the State Senate and in 1836 entered President Van Buren’s

cabinet as Secretary of War. After retiring from that post, the remainder

of his life was spent in literary pursuits.

Professor MOSES STUART, for many years connected with Andover Theological

Seminary, and widely known for Biblical learning, died January 4th, aged

71. He was born at Wilton, Connecticut, March 26, 1780, and, after

graduating at Yale College in 1799, acted as tutor in that institution for

two or three years. In 1806, he was settled as a pastor in New Haven, and

was elected Professor of Sacred Literature in Andover Theological Seminary

in 1810—a post which he filled ably and acceptably until his death. He has

left voluminous and valuable works.

From CALIFORNIA we have intelligence to Dec. 15th. New and extensive

deposits of gold have been found near Auburn, in the northern, and at

Mariposa, in the southern mines; the lack of rain had caused the yield of

gold from them to be small. The aggregate product of all the mines during

November was estimated at twenty per cent. less than during the previous

month. Several projects of railroads through different sections of the

State were under discussion, and the route between San Francisco and San

José was being surveyed. The agricultural resources of the State continued

to be developed with steady progress. Farming operations had already

commenced. Several murders had been perpetrated in various sections. As an

evidence of the prosperity of San Francisco, it is stated that seven large

steamers were to leave that port, within a week, for different ports on

the Pacific and Australia. The Indians have again been committing

frightful ravages among the American settlements on the Colorado. The

various tribes upon the southeastern border, known to be disaffected, have

given unmistakable signs of revolt. Juan Antonio, who had been prominent

as an Indian leader, had been forming a league of several tribes, with

intent to attack the towns of San Diego, Los Angeles, and Santa Barbara.

Three skirmishes had also taken place with the Yumas, on the Colorado, in

which several Americans were killed. Great uneasiness prevailed among the

inhabitants of the menaced districts. The latest advices represent the

danger as less menacing than was feared. Gen. Conde, with 80 troops of the

Mexican Boundary Commission, was at Tuson on the 20th Oct., and would

leave next day for the Gila.

From OREGON, our news is to Dec. 6, and is encouraging. The difficulties

with the Coquille Indians, which had caused the loss of many lives, had

been settled. Coal had been found in considerable quantities at Port

Orford. The U. S. Coast Survey party were engaged in determining the

latitude and longitude of that point, and had completed a map of the

harbor. The rainy season had commenced, and the rivers were rising.

From UTAH we have the official report made by the Judges to the President

of the United States, concerning the condition of the Territory. They

state that they were compelled to leave by the hostile and seditious

sentiments of the Governor, Brigham Young; and they give a detailed

statement of his proceedings. They represent polygamy as common there, and

the courts as powerless to punish any offenses. The delegate from that

Territory in Congress complains of the report, as calculated to do

injustice to the inhabitants. He demands an investigation into the

charges.

From the SANDWICH ISLANDS we have news that the Expedition from

California, which was noticed in our last record as being suspected of

questionable designs, proves to be entirety innocent. It is said that they

were invited over by the King, who desired to have a body of Americans

there, in case his proposal for annexation to the United States should be

accepted. They had arrived at Honolulu, and engaged peaceably in various

pursuits. Some of the English residents evinced uneasiness at their

arrival. A resolution had been adopted in Parliament, declaring that the

demands of France were so unjust as to warrant the King, in case of

necessity, in putting the Islands under the protection of some friendly

power, and pledging the support of the nation to whatever he might think

it proper to do.

From MEXICO we have intelligence to the 20th of December. A riot occurred,

in consequence of rumored misconduct of the French Consul, in importing

goods without paying the duties upon them. Several persons were killed.

News had been received of the success of the government troops who were

sent to oppose Caravajal’s second attempt at insurrection in the northern

departments. Congress closed its extra session on the 14th of December;

the President, in his speech, said he should have been very glad to

congratulate them upon the realization of important reforms, but he could

not do so. No new sources of unhappiness, however, had arisen, and

financial matters had been put upon such a basis, that the next Congress

could solve existing difficulties. Harmony prevailed between the State and

the Central Governments; the army had preserved the nationality of the

country, when it was threatened on the frontier. The foreign relations of

the republic were declared to be entirely satisfactory. Preparations had

already been made for electing members of a new Congress, Subsequent

accounts received from the northern departments, give the details of the

success of the Government troops there. Caravajal was defeated, with a

loss of sixty or seventy;—but he had not been apprehended, and at the

latest advices, was expecting reinforcements.

South America.

From SOUTH AMERICA the news is not very decisive. _Uraguay_, however, is

completely emancipated from the control of Rosas. Oribe’s army is

disbanded, his officers have retired to Buenos Ayres, and he himself has

retired to private life. Urquiza had left the Montevidean territory with

part of his troops, on board Brazilian transports, for Entre Rios, from

which he intended to march to Buenos Ayres. The Brazilian army remained in

Uraguay, to support the actual government.——In _Chili_, according to

latest advices, the revolution noticed some time since, was evidently

extending itself more and more. By accounts received at Lima, December 1,

Gen. Cruz, the leader of the insurgents, was at Chillan, with 3000 men,

having had several engagements with the government troops under

Ex-President Bulnes. Col. Carrera had been defeated by the government

forces. At Valparaiso a riot occurred on the 28th of November. The mob

attacked the barracks, procured arms, and fortified themselves in the

Square. They were attacked by the troops under Governor-General Blanco,

and dispersed after half an hour’s engagement, in which 80 were killed.

The agitation had subsided.——In _Bolivia_ every thing was quiet.——In _New

Grenada_ a law has been passed, declaring the whole slave population to be

free after January 1, 1852. General Herrara had returned from his visit to

the southern provinces, where he had put down all the attempts at

insurrection.

Europe.

From GREAT BRITAIN the political news is important. On Monday, the 22d of

December, Lord PALMERSTON resigned his position as Foreign Secretary and

ceased to be a member of the Cabinet. Earl GRANVILLE was appointed his

successor. The cause of this rupture has not been officially announced.

The leading papers, however, ascribe it to a difference of opinion, which

had risen to decided hostility, between Lord Palmerston and his

colleagues, in regard to foreign affairs. The encouragement which the

Foreign Secretary gave to KOSSUTH is mentioned among the grounds of

difference: but the _Times_, which is likely to be well-informed, asserts,

that the subject of distinct and decisive difference was the French

usurpation. It says that Lord Palmerston approved decidedly of the step

taken by LOUIS NAPOLEON; whereas, the rest of the Cabinet were inclined to

censure it. The same authority says that several of the European

governments have warmly remonstrated with England, for allowing political

refugees to make that country the scene of plots against the peace of the

countries they had left. It adds, however, that this was not among the

causes of dissension,—Lord GRANVILLE is thirty-seven years old, and has

been attached to the English legation in Paris. It will be remembered that

he was Chairman of the Council of the Great Exhibition last year. He is a

man of considerable ability and diplomatic skill. It is not supposed,

however, that he will make his predecessor’s place good as a debater in

the House of Commons.

Of other news from Great Britain, there is not much. A large company of

London merchants waited upon Lord JOHN RUSSELL on the 9th, to complain of

gross mismanagement and inefficiency, on the part of the Commissioners of

Customs, and asking the appointment of a Select Committee of

Investigation. The Minister replied to many of the complaints, declaring

them to be unjust, and declined to say that he would move for a Committee.

The whole matter, however, should receive his attention.

A public dinner was given at Manchester, on the 9th, to Mr. R. J. WALKER,

formerly American Secretary of the Treasury. In his speech on the

occasion, Mr. W. elaborately argued the question of Free Trade, saying

that he was in favor of a still farther reduction of the American duties,

and calling upon the English to aid them by reducing the duties on tobacco

and other imports of American growth. Referring to recent events in

France, he avowed his apprehension that a man who had proved himself a

traitor, an insurgent, and a military usurper, would not rest content at

home, but that England herself was in danger from the progress of

despotism upon the Continent. Whenever such a struggle for freedom should

be waged in England, he promised them the support of the United States.

In IRELAND a good deal of interest has been excited by the return of

emigrants from America. In many cases they were returning for their

families—in others, from disappointment and unfitness for work in the

United States.——A Mr. Bateson, manager of the great estates of Lord

Templeton, in the county of Monoghan, was shot at, and then beaten with

bludgeons, so that he died, by three men in the street; the act was in

revenge for some evictions he had made against dishonest tenants.

In SCOTLAND a very large meeting was held in Edinburgh on the 9th, to

protest against the grant to Maynooth College. In the course of the

debates it was stated that 540 petitions, with 307,278 names, had been

sent in against the grant. A resolution was adopted, promising to use

every possible effort to “procure the passage of a bill for the entire

repeal of said grant” at the next session of Parliament.

The events of the month in France have been of transcendent interest. The

Constitution has been abolished, the National Assembly dissolved, martial

law proclaimed, and the Republic transformed into a Monarchy, elective in

name but absolute in fact.

This change was effected by violence on the morning of Tuesday, December

2d. Our Record of last month noticed the dissensions between the President

and the Assembly, and the refusal of the latter to abolish the law

restricting suffrage, and the failure of its attempt to obtain command

over the army. A law was also pending authorizing the impeachment of the

President in case he should seek a re-election in violation of the

provisions of the Constitution. During the night of Monday the 1st,

preparations were made by the President for destroying all authority but

his own. He wrote letters to his Ministers announcing to them that he had

made up his mind to resist the attempt of his enemies to sacrifice him,

and that, as he did not wish them to be compromised by his acts, they had

better resign. The hint of course was taken, and they sent in letters of

resignation at once. The principal streets of Paris were occupied by

strong bodies of troops at about 5 o’clock on Tuesday morning; and before

that hour all the leading representatives and military men whom Louis

Napoleon knew to be opposed to his designs, were arrested and committed to

prison. Detachments of the police, accompanied by portions of the guard,

visited their houses, and arrested Generals Cavaignac, Changarnier, De

Lamoricière, Bedeau, and Leflo, Colonel Charras, MM. Thiers, Lagrange,

Valentine, Panat, Michel (de Bourges), Beaune, Greppo, Miot, Nadaud, Roger

(du Nord), and Baze. They were immediately transferred to the Chateau of

Vincennes, and subsequently removed to Ham; with the exception of M.

Thiers, who was taken to the prison of Mazas. General Changarnier was

arrested at his own house at 4 o’clock in the morning. Several other

representatives were with him at the time, and were also taken into

custody. Gen. C. attempted to harangue the troops who were sent to arrest

him, but they refused to listen to him. At the same time that the above

arrests were made, commissaries of police were dispatched to the offices

of the public journals to suspend some, and regulate the course of others.

In the morning the walls of Paris were found to be placarded with a

decree, in the following terms: “In the name of the French people, the

President of the Republic decrees: 1. The National Assembly is dissolved.

2. Universal suffrage is re-established; the law of the 31st May is

repealed. 3. The French people are convoked in their communes from the

14th to the 21st December. 4. The state of siege is decreed in the whole

of the first military division. 5. The Council of State is dissolved. 6.

The Minister of the Interior is charged with the execution of this

decree.—Louis Napoleon Bonaparte.” At a later hour an appeal to the people

was issued by the President, and posted upon the walls. It declared that

he had dissolved the Assembly, which was attacking his power, and

compromising the peace of France. He had faithfully observed the

Constitution, but it was his duty to baffle the perfidious plans of those

who were seeking to overturn the Republic. He accordingly appealed to the

people. He would not consent longer to hold a power ineffective for good:

if they wished him to continue in his post, they must give him the means

of fulfilling his mission, which was to close the era of revolutions. He

submitted to them the basis of a new Constitution, providing: 1. A

responsible head named for ten years. 2. Ministers dependent on the

Executive power alone. 3. A Council of State, to propose laws and discuss

them. 4. A legislative body discussing and voting laws, named by universal

suffrage. 5. A second assembly, formed of all the illustrious of the

country. He asked them to vote for or against him on this basis. If he did

not obtain a majority, he would give up power. A proclamation to the army

was issued in a similar manner. He told the soldiers that he counted on

them to cause to be respected the sovereignty of the nation, of which he

was the legitimate representative. He reminded them of the insults that

had been heaped upon them, and called upon them to vote as citizens, but

as soldiers to obey. He was alone responsible: it was for them to remain

immovable within the rules of discipline.

As soon as these events were generally known, a portion of the members of

the Assembly, two hundred in number, assembled at the residence of M.

Daru, one of the Vice Presidents of the Assembly. They there decided to go

to their usual place of meeting, but they were refused admission by an

armed guard. Returning to M. Daru’s house, they were about commencing a

session, when a message arrived from Gen. Lauriston, inviting them to the

Mairie of the 10th arrondissement, and saying that he was prepared to

defend them against all violence. They accordingly repaired thither,

organized, and after due deliberation declared the conduct of Louis

Napoleon to be illegal, and in violation of the Constitution, and decreed

his deposition, in accordance with Art. 68 of that instrument. They also

by a decree freed the officers of the army and navy, and all public

functionaries, from their oaths of obedience to him, and convoked the High

Court of Justice to judge him and his Ministers. The Court did attempt to

meet during the day, but was dispersed. The decree was signed by all the

members of Assembly present. After this had been done the building was

found to be surrounded by troops, to whom M. Berryer announced the

deposition of the President and the appointment of General Oudinot,

commander-in-chief of all the troops of Paris. The announcement was coldly

received, and officers and troops immediately entered the room and

dispersed the Assembly. About 150 of the members were afterward arrested

and committed to prison for attempting to meet in some other place; after

a day’s confinement they were released. Meantime, the most perfect quiet

prevailed throughout Paris. No attempt at resistance was made, and the

decrees were read and commented on with apparent indifference. The streets

and public places were crowded with troops. Dispatches were sent to the

departments and were answered by full assurances of assent.

On Wednesday morning was published a list of one hundred and twenty

persons appointed by the President as a Consultative Commission, selected

because Louis Napoleon “wished to surround himself with men who enjoy, by

a just title, the esteem and confidence of the country.” Of these over

eighty refused to serve. During the same morning, indications of

discontent began to be apparent. At about 10 o’clock, M. Baudin, one of

the representatives of the people, made his appearance on horseback, in

official dress and with a drawn sword, in the Rue St. Antoine. He was

followed by several others, and strove to arouse the people to resistance.

Considerable groups collected, and a fragile barricade was erected. Troops

soon came up from opposite directions and hemmed them in. The groups were

soon dispersed, and M. Baudin, and two other representatives were killed

on the spot. Great numbers of troops continued to arrive, and the whole

section was speedily occupied by them. On Thursday morning, appearances of

insurrection began to be serious. Barricades were erected in several

streets. At 12 o’clock the Boulevards were swept by troops, artillery was

brought up, and wherever groups of people were seen they were fired upon.

It is now known that police officers encouraged the building of barricades

in order to give the troops a chance to attack the people. Buildings were

battered with cannon, and scores of respectable people were killed at

their windows. Throughout the day the troops behaved in the most brutal

manner, bayoneting, shooting, and riding over every body within reach.

Great numbers of innocent persons were killed in this manner. It would be

impossible to give within our limits a tithe of the interesting incidents

of the day, illustrating the spirit that prevailed. It is pretty clearly

ascertained that the object of the government was to strike terror into

all classes, and that for this purpose the troops had been instructed to

show no quarter, but to kill every body that threatened resistance. Many

of the soldiers were also intoxicated. ’Order’ was in this manner

completely restored by evening. But over two thousand people were killed.

From the departments, meantime, came news of resistance. In the frontier

districts of the southeast particularly—the whole valley of the Rhone, in

fact the whole region from Joigny to Lyons, including several departments,

the rural population rose in great strength against the usurpation. There

was very hard fighting in the Nievre, in the Herault, and in the frontier

districts of the Sardinian and Swiss Alps: and in many places the contest

was distinguished by sad atrocities. In the course of two or three days,

however, all resistance was quelled.

Preparations were made for the election. The army voted first, and of

course its vote was nearly unanimous in favor of Louis Napoleon. The

popular election was to take place on Saturday and Sunday, the 20th and

21st of December. The simple question submitted was, whether Louis

Napoleon should remain at the head of the state ten years, or not. No

other candidate was allowed to be named. Louis Napoleon directed the

Pantheon to be restored to its original use as a church, and thereby, as

well as by other measures, secured the support of the Catholics. Count

Montalembert published a long letter, urging all Catholics throughout

France to vote in his favor. The election was conducted quietly—the

government discouraging as much as possible the printing and distributing

of negative votes. The returns have been received from 68 out of the 86

departments, and these give, in round numbers, 5,400,000 _yes_, and

600,000 _no_. His majority will probably be nearly 7,000,000, which is

more than he obtained in 1848.

The London papers state that a correspondence had passed between the

governments of England and France upon the subject of Louis Napoleon’s

usurpation, in which the former urged a full and explicit declaration of

the President’s intentions, and views, as necessary to satisfy the English

people in regard to what had already taken place. The replies are said to

have been evasive and unsatisfactory. It is stated, also, that Louis

Napoleon had directed a circular letter to be prepared, addressed to the

various governments of Europe, assuring them of his pacific disposition,

and saying that the step he had taken was necessary for the protection of

France against the enemies of order.

Marshal Soult died on the 20th of December at his chateau of Soult-berg.

He was born March 29,1769—the same year with Napoleon, the Duke of

Wellington, Cuvier, Chateaubriand, and Walter Scott, and was 82 years old

at the time of his death. He entered the army in 1785, and was

subsequently attached to the staff of Gen. Lefebvre. He took part in all

the campaigns of Germany until 1799, when he followed Massena into

Switzerland and thence to Genoa, where he was wounded and taken prisoner.

Set at liberty after the battle of Marengo, he returned to France and

became one of the four colonels of the guard of the Consuls. When the

empire was proclaimed in 1804 he was made Marshal of France. He

subsequently commanded the army in Spain, and in 1813 was made

Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Guard. When Napoleon first landed from

Elba he issued a proclamation against him, but soon after became one of

his warmest adherents. He was afterward the firm supporter of Louis

Philippe, as Minister of War and President of the Council, from which he

retired in 1847 to private life. He was the last representative of the

imperial era of France.

From AUSTRIA the only news is of new arrests and new restrictions. A

number of persons in Hungary, including the mother and the sisters of

Kossuth, had been arrested merely on suspicion at Pesth: and a subsequent

account announces the death of his mother. The prisoners were removed to

Vienna. The military governor of Vienna has forbidden the papers hereafter

to publish the names of any persons that may be arrested, or to mention

the fact of their arrest, on the ground that it “interferes with judicial

proceedings.” The government, it is said, has notified the English

government, that measures will be taken to prevent Englishmen from

traveling in Austria, if Austrian refugees continue to be received and

fêted in England.—The financial embarrassments of the government still

continue.—It is stated that Prince Schwarzenberg has avowed the intention

of the Austrian government to sustain Louis Napoleon in the course he has

taken—not that his legitimate right to the position he holds is conceded,

but because he is acting on the side of order.

From SPAIN we have intelligence that the Queen has pardoned all the

American prisoners proceeding from the last expedition against Cuba,

whether in Spain fulfilling their sentence or still in Cuba. The decree

announcing this was dated Dec. 9, and alleged the satisfactory conduct and

assurances of the American government as the ground of this clemency.—The

Spanish Minister, Don Calderon de la Barca, had been honored with the

Grand Cross of Charles II. as a reward for his conduct, and Señor Laborde,

the Spanish Consul at New Orleans, was to resume his post.—Immediately

after receiving news of the _coup-d’état_ in Paris, the Spanish Congress

was indefinitely prorogued by the royal authority. A princess was born on

the 20th of December.

In TURKEY the question of Russian predominance has again been raised, by

the demand of the French, upon the Turkish government, for the control of

the Holy Sepulchre, which, they allege, was guaranteed to them by treaty

in 1740. Through the agency of their Minister, the French had succeeded in

procuring an admission of the binding force of the treaty: but just then

the Russian Minister presented a demand that the Holy Sepulchre should

still remain in the hands of the Greek Church. This remonstrance caused

the Porte to hesitate: and the affair is still undecided.

From CHINA and the EAST news a month later has been received. From Bombay

intelligence is to Nov. 17. A very severe hurricane occurred in and around

Calcutta on the 22d of October, and caused great damage to the shipping as

well as to houses: a great many persons were killed. Hostilities have

again broken out between the English and the natives at Gwalior. Troops

had been sent out upon service, but no engagements are reported.—In

consequence of rival claimants to the throne, a fearful scene of anarchy

and blood is commencing in Affghanistan. Many of the Hindoo traders and

other peacable inhabitants have fled from the country, and were putting

themselves under British protection.—An extensive fire occurred in Canton,

Oct. 4, destroying five hundred houses and an immense amount of property.

The intelligence of the Chinese rebellion was very vague, and the movement

had ceased to excite interest or attract attention.

EDITOR’S TABLE.

The Value of the Union.—In our periodical rounds, we have arrived at the

month which numbers in its calendar the natal day of Washington. What

subject, then, more appropriate for such a period than the one we have

placed at the head of our editorial Table? “_The Value of the Union_”—in

other words, the value of our national Constitution? Who shall estimate

it? By what mathematical formula shall we enter upon a computation

requiring so many known and unknown forces to be taken into the account,

and involving results so immense in the number and magnitude of their

complications? No problem in astronomy or mechanics is to be compared with

it. As a question of science, the whole solar system presents nothing more

intricate. It is not a “problem of three bodies,” but of thirty; and these

regarded not merely in their internal dynamical relations, but in their

moral bearings upon an outer world of widely varied and varying forces.

In the computations of stocks and dividends, and the profit and loss of

commercial partnerships, the process is comparatively clear. The balance

is ever of one ascertained kind, and expressed in one uniform circulating

medium. There is but one standard of value, and, therefore, the methods of

ordinary arithmetic are sufficient. But in this estimate, which the most

ordinary politician sometimes thinks himself perfectly competent to make,

there enter elements that the highest analysis might fail to master. This

is because the answer sought presents itself under so many aspects, and in

such a variety of relations.

“_The Value of the Union._”—We have forgotten who first employed the

ill-omened expression, but it has set us thinking in how many ways it may

be taken, and how many different kinds of value may be supposed to enter

into such a calculation.

And first—for our subject is so important as to require precision—we may

attempt to consider the value of our national Constitution as A WORK OF

ART. This is a choice term of the day—a favorite mode of speech with all

who would affect a more than ordinary elevation of thought and sentiment.

Profound ideas are sought in painting, statuary, and architecture. The

ages, it is said, speak through them, and in them. The individual minds

and hands by which they receive their outward forms, are only

representative of deeper tendencies existing in the generic humanity. In

the department of architecture, especially, some of the favorite writers

of the age are analyzing the elements of its ideal excellence. The

perfection of an architectural structure is its rhythm, its analogy, its

inward harmonious support, its outward adaptedness to certain ends, or the

expression of certain thoughts, or the giving form and embodiment to

certain emotions—in other words, what may be called its artistic logic.

Whether this be all true, or whether there is much cant and affectation

mingled with it, still may we say that, in the best sense in which such an

expression has ever been employed of statuary or architecture, is our

Federal Constitution a high and glorious _work of art_; and if it had no

other value, this alone would make it exceedingly precious in the eyes of

all who have a taste for the sublimity and beauty of order, who love the

just and true, and who regard the highest dignity and well-being of our

humanity as consisting in a right appreciation of these ideas. One of the

most popular and instructive works of the day is Ruskin on the different

styles of architecture. Would it be thought whimsical to compare with this

the Letters of Madison and Hamilton on the Federal Constitution? We refer

to the well-known work entitled The Federalist, and on whose profound

disquisitions the pillars of our government may be said to rest. Yes,

_there_, we boldly affirm it, _there_, is to be found the true τὸ

καλόν—there is architectural and constructive rhythm. There is analogy of

ideas, there is harmony of adaptation, there is unity of power. There is

both statistical and dynamical beauty—the beauty of rest, the beauty of

strength in repose, the beauty of action in harmonious equilibrium. There

is that which gives its highest charm to music, the perception of ratios,

and ideas, and related chords, instead of mere unmeaning sounds. There is

that which makes the enchantment of the picture, the exquisite blending of

colors, the proper mingling of light and shade, the perspective adjustment

of the near and the remote. There are all the elements of that high

satisfaction we experience in the contemplation of any dramatic act, or of

any structure, real or ideal, in which there is a perfect arrangement of

mutually supporting parts, and a perfect resolution of mutually related

forces, all combined with harmonious reference to a high and glorious end.

Irrespective, then, of its more immediate social and political utilities,

there is a high value in our Federal Constitution when viewed thus in

reference solely to its artistic excellence. We may thus speak of its

worth _per se_, as a model of the τὸ καλόν, just as we would of that of a

picture, or a temple, or an anthem. But even in this aspect it has its

higher utilities. Is there no value in the elevating effect it must ever

have upon those who have intellect enough to comprehend what we have

called its artistic logic, and soul enough to feel the harmonizing

influence of its artistic beauty? Will not a people reason better who have

ever before them a work which has been the result of so much philosophical

and scientific thought? Will not their moral taste be purified, and their

love of the true and the beautiful be increased, in proportion as their

minds enter truly into the harmony of such a structure? Is it a mere fancy

to suppose that such a silent yet powerful educating influence in our

Constitution may be more effectual, on many minds, than any direct

restraining power of special statutes?

This train of thought is tempting, and suggests a great variety of

illustrations, but we can not dwell on them. If the man who should

maliciously cause the destruction of a splendid cathedral, who should set

fire to St. Peter’s or St. Paul’s, or who should wantonly mar a

master-piece of Power or Canova—if such a one, we say, would justly be

visited with the execration of the civilized world, of how much sorer

punishment should he be thought worthy who should traitorously conspire

the death of our American Union, or even think of applying the torch to

the glorious structure of our Federal Constitution? Even to speak lightly

of its value should be regarded as no ordinary treason. But let us come

down to what many would regard a more practical and utilitarian view of

the matter.

AS AN EXAMPLE TO THE WORLD.—What arithmetic shall estimate the value of

our Union and of our political institutions in this respect? This is the

second element in our computation; although in view of the present

condition of mankind it might even seem entitled to the first and highest

place. Between the wild surgings of radicalism and the iron-bound coast of

despotism, what hope for the nations if the fairest and strongest ship of

constitutional liberty part her anchors, only to be engulfed in the

yawning vortex on the one side, or dashed to pieces against the rocks on

the other? When will the experiment ever be tried under fairer auspices?

When may we again expect such a combination of favoring circumstances,

propitious providences, moral and religious influences, formative ideas,

and historical training as have all concurred in building up the fabric

which some would so recklessly destroy? If after the preparation of

centuries—if after all our claims to a higher Christianity, a higher

civilization, a higher science—if after all our boasts of progress, and of

the Press, and of the capacity of man for self-government—the result of it

all should be a dissolution of our political and national existence before

one generation of its founders had wholly passed away, what can we

expect—we earnestly ask every serious reader deeply to ponder this most

plain and practical question—what can we expect of the frivolous French

infidelity, or the deeper, and therefore far more dangerous German

pantheism, or the untaught serfdom of Austria and Russia? It may, perhaps,

be said, that the mere dissolution of our Union would not involve any such

eventful issue. It is only a temporary expedient (it might be maintained),

not belonging to the essence of our nationality, and the real sovereignty,

or sovereignties would not be impaired by its loss. Our State governments

would remain, and other lesser confederacies might be formed, if political

exigencies should require them. This suggests the _third aspect_ under

which we would consider the problem that has presented itself for our

editorial contemplations.

_The Value of our Union_ as THE KEY-STONE OF STATE AUTHORITY, and of all

that may be legitimately included under the idea of State sovereignty. Who

shall estimate it in this respect? We are too much inclined to regard our

general government, as in some respects, a foreign one, as something

outside of our proper nationality, as an external band, or wrapper, that

may be loosened without much danger, rather than what it really is, or, at

least has become in time, a _con-necting_, interweaving, all-pervading

principle, constituting not merely a _sum_ of adjacent _parts_, but a

_whole_ of organic _membership_; so that a severance would not leave

merely disintegrated fractions, possessing each the same vitality it would

have had, or might once have had, if there had never been such membership.

The wound could not be inflicted without a deep, and, perhaps, deadly

injury, not only to the life of the whole, as a whole, but to the vital

forces through which the lower and smaller sections of each several member

may have been respectively bound into political unities. It is true, our

general government had a peculiar origin, and stands, _in time_,

subsequent to the State authorities. It might seem, therefore, to some, to

derive its life from them, instead of being itself a proper fountain of

vitality. This is _chronologically_ true; but such an inference from it

would be _logically_ false, and could only proceed from a very superficial

study of the law of political organisms. Whatever may have been the origin

of the parts, or the original circumstances of their union, we must now

regard the body that has grown out of them as a living organic whole,

which can not suffer without suffering throughout. It is _alive all over_,

and you can put the amputating knife in no place without letting out some

of the life-blood that flows in each member, and in every fibre of each

member. It had, indeed, its origin in the union of the parts, but its

vital principle has modified the parts, and modified their life, so that

you can not now hurt it, or kill it, without producing universal pain and

universal death. Nor was such union either arbitrary or accidental. Our

general political organization was as naturally born out of the

circumstances in which we were placed, as our several State polities grew

out of the union of the feeble and varied sources in which they had their

historical origin. The written Constitution declarative of the national

coalescence (or _growing together_) only expressed an _effect_, instead of

constituting a cause.

To change our metaphor, for the sake of varied and easy illustration, we

may say, that the Federal Constitution, though last in the actual order of

construction, has come to be the key-stone of the whole arch. It can not

now be taken out but at the risk of every portion crumbling into atoms.

The State interest may have been predominant in the earlier periods, but

generations have since been born under the security of this arch, and a

conservative feeling of nationality has been growing up with it. In this

way our general government, our State governments, our county or district

governments, our city corporations, the municipal authorities of our towns

and villages, have become _cemented_ together into one grand harmonious

whole, whose coherence is the coherence of every part, and in which no

part is the same it would, or might have been, had no such interdependent

coherence ever taken place. It becomes, therefore, a question of the most

serious moment—What would be the effect of loosening this key of the arch?

Could we expect any stone to keep its place, be it great or small? In

other words, have we any reason to believe that such an event would be

succeeded by two, or three, or a few confederacies, still bound together,

or might we not rather expect a universal dissolution of our grand

national system?

And would it stop here? The charm once broken, would the wounded feeling

of nationality find repose in our State governments, or would they, too,

in their turn, feel the effects of the same dissolving and decomposing

process? These, also, are but creations of law, and compacts, and

historical events, and accidents of locality, in which none of the present

generation had any share, and which have brought all the smaller political

powers within certain boundaries to be members of one larger body politic,

with all the irregularities and inequalities it may geographically

present. What magic, then, in the bond that holds together the smaller

parts composing New York, or Virginia, or Massachusetts, or South

Carolina, which is not to be found in the national organization? What

sacred immutability in the results giving rise to the one class of

political wholes that does not exist in the other? Such questions are

becoming already rife among us, and let the healthful charm of our greater

nationality be once lost, they would doubtless multiply with a rapidity

that might startle even the most radical. The doctrine may not be

intended, but it would logically and inevitably result from much of our

most popular oratory on the inherent right of self-government, that any

part of any separate State might sever its connection with the whole, or

might form a union with any contiguous territory, whenever it might seem

to the majority of such part to be for their interest, or to belong to

their abstract right to make such secession or annexation. There is,

however, an extreme to which the principle may be carried, even beyond

this. The tendency to what is called individualism, or the making all

positive legislation dependent for its authority upon the higher law of

the individual sanction, would soon give a practical solution to the most

disorganizing theories that now exist as germs in the idea expressed by

that barbarous but most expressive term _come-outer-ism_. And this

suggests the next and closely related aspect of our important problem.