This is a confirmation of the fact, that on the isthmus facilities exist

for either cutting a canal, or constructing a railroad; but while the

French seem inclined to revive the primitive project, it is to be feared

that they overlook the paramount difficulty, which, as already noticed,

occurs on both sides, through the want of water. Unless admission and an

outlet can be obtained for men-of-war, and the usual class of vessels

trading to India, it would scarcely be worth while to attempt a canal, and

it has not been ascertained that both those essential requisites can be

found. The other plan must therefore be held to be the surest and most

economical. This also seems to have been the conclusion at which Mr Lloyd

arrived. Having made up his mind that a railroad is best adapted to the

locality, he proceeds to trace two lines, starting from the same terminus,

near the Atlantic, and terminating at different points on the Pacific,

respecting which he expresses himself thus:--"Two lines are marked on the

map, commencing at a point near the junction of the rivers Chagre and

Trinidad, and crossing the plains, the one to Chorrera, and the other to

Panama. These lines indicate the directions which I consider the best for

a railroad communication. The principal difficulty in the establishment of

such a communication, would arise from the number of rivulets to be

crossed, which, though dry in summer, become considerable streams in the

rainy season. The line which crosses to Chorrera is much the shortest, but

the other has the advantage of terminating in the city and harbour of

Panama. The country intersected by these lines is by no means so abundant

in woods as in other parts, but has fine savannahs, and throughout the

whole distance, as well as on each bank of the Trinidad, presents flat,

and sometimes swampy country, with occasional detached sugar-loaf

mountains, interspersed with streams that mostly empty themselves into the

Chagre."

Would it not, then, be more advisable to act on this suggestion, than run

the risk and incur the expense of a canal? On all hands it is agreed, that

as far as the mouth of the Trinidad the Chagre is navigable for vessels

drawing twelve feet water, by which means twelve or fourteen miles of road,

and a long bridge besides, would be saved. Under this supposition, the

proposed line from the junction of the two rivers to Panama would be about

thirty miles, and to Chorrera twenty four; while on neither of them does

any other difficulty present itself than the one mentioned by Mr Lloyd.

"Should the time arrive," says that gentleman, "when a project of a water

communication across the isthmus may be entertained, the river Trinidad

will probably appear the most favourable route. That river is for some

distance both broad and deep, and its banks are also well suited for

wharfs, especially in the neighbourhood of the spot whence the lines

marked for a railroad communication commence."

It therefore only remains to be determined which of the two lines is the

preferable one; and this depends more on the facilities afforded by the

bay of Chorrera for the admission of vessels, than the difference in the

distances. However desirable it might be to have Panama as the Pacific

station, it will already have been noticed, that the great distance from

the shore at which vessels are obliged to anchor, is a serious impediment

to loading and unloading--operations which are rendered more tedious by

the heavy swell at certain seasons setting into the gulf. The distance

from Chorrera to Panama, over a level part of the coast, is only ten miles.

Should it therefore be deemed expedient, these two places may afterwards

be connected by means of a branch line. As regards the difficulty

mentioned by Mr Lloyd, arising out of "the number of rivulets to be

crossed," it may be observed that this section of the country remains in

nearly the same state as that in which it was left by nature. No

artificial means have been adopted for drainage; but the assurances of

intelligent natives warrant the belief, that by cross-cuts the smaller

rivulets may be made to run into the larger ones, whereby the number to be

crossed would be materially diminished. The contiguous lands abound in

superior stone, easily dug, and well suited for the construction of

causeways as well as arches; while the magnificent forests, which rear

their lofty heads to the north of the projected line, would for sleepers

furnish any quantity of an almost incorruptible and even incombustible

wood, resembling teak.[25]

The Honourable P. Campbell Scarlett, one of the last travellers of note

who crossed the isthmus and favoured the pubic with the result of his

observations, says, "that for a ship canal the locality would not answer,

but presents the greatest facilities for the transfer of merchandize by

river and canal, sufficiently deep for steam-boats, at a comparatively

trifling expense."[26] He then proceeds to remark, "that Mr Lloyd seemingly

turned his attention more to the practicability of a railroad along the

level country between the mouth of the Trinidad and the town or river of

Chorrera, and no doubt a railroad would be very beneficial;" adding, "that

an explicit understanding would be necessary to prevent interruption,

(meaning with the local government and ruling power:) and the subject

assuredly is of sufficient magnitude and importance to justify, if not

call on, the British government, or any other power, to encourage and

sanction the enterprise by a solemn treaty."

In proportion to its size, no town built by the Spaniards in the western

world contains so many good edifices as Panama, although many of them are

now falling to decay. It was rebuilt subsequent to the fire in 1737, and

from the ornamental parts of some structures, it is evident that superior

workmen were employed in their erection;[27] and should notice at any time

be given that public works were about to commence there, accompanied by an

assurance that artisans would meet with due encouragement, thither

able-bodied men would flock, even from the West Indies and the United

States. Hardy Mulattoes, Meztizoes, free Negroes, and Indians, may be

assembled upon the spot, among whom are good masons and experienced hewers

of wood; and, being intelligent and tractable, European skill and example

alone would be requisite to direct them. The existence of coal along the

shores of Chili and Peru, is also another encouraging feature in the

scheme;[28] and as the ground for a railroad would cost a mere trifle, if

any thing, the whole might be completed at a comparatively small expense.

The profits derivable from the undertaking, when accomplished, are too

obvious to require enumeration. The rates levied on letters, passengers,

and merchandize, after leaving a proportionate revenue to the local

government, must produce a large sum, which would progressively increase

as the route became more frequented. Mines exist in the neighbourhood, at

present neglected owing to the difficulty of the smelting process. It may

hereafter be worth while for return vessels to bring the rough mineral

obtained from them to Europe, as is now done with copper ore from Cuba,

Colombia, and Chili. Ship timber, of the largest dimensions and best

qualities, may also be had. The charges on the transit of merchandize

would never be so heavy as even the rates of insurance round Cape Horn and

the Cape of Good Hope. The first of these great headlands mariners know

full well is a fearful barrier, advancing into the cheerless deep amidst

storms, rocks, islands, and currents, to avoid which the navigator is

often compelled to go several degrees more to the south than his track

requires; whereby the voyage is not only lengthened, but his water and

provisions so far exhausted, that frequently he is under the necessity of

making the first port he can in Chili, or seeking safety on the African

coast.

[25] Ulloa (Book iii. chap. 11) remarks, that although the greater

part of the houses in Panama were formerly built of wood, fires

very rarely occurred; the nature of the timber being such, that if

lighted embers are laid upon the floor, or wall made of it, the

only consequence is, that it makes a hole without producing a

flame.

[26] America and the Pacific, 1838.

[27] Ulloa affirms, that the greater part of the houses in Panama

are now built of stone; all sorts of materials for edifices of

this kind being found there in the greatest abundance. Mr Scarlett

also acknowledges that he there saw more specimens of

architectural beauty than in any other town of South America which

he had occasion to visit.

[28] In 1814 the writer had coal in his possession, in London,

brought from the vicinity of Lima, which he had coked and tried in

a variety of ways. It was gaseous and resembled that dug in the

United States. Since that period coal has been found near

Talcahuano and at Valdivia, on the coast of Chili; on the island

of Chiloe, and on that of San Lorenzo, opposite to Lima; in the

valley of Tambo, near Islay; at Guacho, and even further down on

the coast of Guayaquil. Mr Scarlett quotes a letter from the Earl

of Dundonald. (Lord Cochrane,) in which his lordship affirms,

"that there is plenty of coal at Talcahuano, in the province of

Conception." It was used on board of her Majesty's ship Blossom;

and Mr Mason, of her Majesty's ship Seringspatam, pronounced it

good when not taken too near the surface. Mr Wheelright, the

American gentleman who formed the Steam Navigation Company along

the western coast, coked the coal found there; and in the general

plan for the formation of his company, assured the public that

"coal exists on various parts of the Chili coast in great

abundance, and will afford an ample supply for steam operations on

the Pacific at a very moderate expense." The fact is confirmed by

various other testimonies, and there is every reason to believe

that coal will be hereafter found at no great distance from

Panama.

To escape from the perils and delays of this circuitous route has long

been the anxious wish of all commercial nations, and to a certain extent

this may be accomplished in the manner here pointed out. In the course of

time, and in case prospects are sufficiently encouraging--or, in other

words, should the surveys required for a ship canal correspond with the

hopes entertained upon this subject by the French--the great desideratum

might then be attempted. The work done would not interfere with any other

afterwards undertaken on an increased scale. On the contrary, a railroad

would continue its usual traffic, and afford great assistance. Fortunately

the obstruction to the admission of vessels into Chagre harbour, on the

Atlantic side, may be obviated, as will appear from the following passage

in Mr Lloyd's report--a point of extreme importance in the prosecution of

any ulterior design; but even then the great difficulty remains to be

overcome on the Pacific shore:--

"The river Chagre," says the Colombian commissioner, "its channel, and the

barks which in the dry season embarrass its navigation, are laid down in

my manuscript plan with great care and minuteness. It is subject to one

great inconvenience; viz. that vessels drawing more than twelve feet water

cannot enter the river, even in perfectly calm weather, on account of a

stratum of slaty limestone which runs, at a depth at high water of fifteen

feet, from a point on the mainland to some rocks in the middle of the

entrance into the harbour, and which are just even with the water's edge.

This, together with the lee current that sets on the southern shore,

particularly in the rainy season, renders the entrance extremely difficult

and dangerous. The value of the Chagre, considered as the port of entrance

for all communication, whether by the river Chagre, Trinidad, or by

railroad, across the plains, is greatly limited owing to the

above-mentioned cause. It would, in all cases, prove a serious

disqualification, were it not one which admits of a simple and effectual

remedy, arising from the proximity of the bay of Limon, otherwise called

Navy Bay, with which the river might be easily connected. The coves of this

bay afford excellent and secure anchorage in its present state, and the

whole harbour is capable of being rendered, by obvious and not very

expensive means, one of the most commodious and safe in the world."

After expressing his gratitude for the good offices of her Majesty's

consul at Panama, and the services rendered to him by the officers of her

Majesty's ship Victor, with the aid of whose boats, and the assistance of

the master, he made his survey of the bay of Limon, obtained soundings,

and constructed his plan, (the shores of which bay, he says, are therein

laid down trigonometrically from a base of 5220 yards)--Mr Lloyd remarks

thus, "It will be seen by this plan that the distance from one of the

best coves, in respect to anchorage, across the separating country from

the Chagre, and in the most convenient track, is something less than three

miles to a point in the river about three miles from its mouth. I have

traversed the intervening land, which is perfectly level, and in all

respects suitable for a canal, which, being required for so short a

distance, might well be made of a sufficient depth to admit vessels of any

reasonable draught of water, and would obviate the inconvenience of the

shallows at the entrance of the Chagre."

Granting, however, that the admission from the Atlantic into the Chagre of

a larger class of vessels than those drawing twelve feet might be thus

facilitated, according to Mr Lloyd's own avowal a breakwater would still

be necessary at the entrance of Limon Bay, which is situated round Point

Brujas, about eight geographical miles higher up towards Porto Bello than

the mouth of that river, as the heavy sea setting into the bay would

render the anchorage of vessels insecure. An immense deal of work would

consequently still remain to be performed before a corresponding outlet

into the Pacific could be obtained; and whether this can be accomplished

is yet problematical. In the interval, a railroad, on the plan above

suggested, would answer many, although not all the purposes desired by the

commercial community, and serve as a preparatory step for a canal, should

it be deemed feasible. After the country has been cleared of wood and

properly explored--after the population has been more concentrated, and

the opinions of experienced men obtained--a project of oceanic navigation

may succeed; but, for the present, we ought to be content with the best

and cheapest expedient that can be devised; and the distance is so short,

and the facilities for the enterprise so palpable, that a few previous

combinations, and a small capital only, are required to carry it into

effect. By using the waters of the Chagre and Trinidad, a material part of

the distance across is saved;[29] and as, as before explained, the ground

will cost nothing, and excellent and cheap materials exist, the work might

be performed at a comparatively trifling expense. When completed, the trip

from sea to sea would not take more than from six to eight hours.

Avowedly, no ocean is so well adapted for steam navigation as the Pacific.

Except near Cape Horn, and in the higher latitudes to the north-west, on

its glassy surface storms are seldom encountered. With their heavy ships,

the Spaniards often made voyages from Manilla to Acapulco in sixty-five

days, without having once had occasion to take in their light sails. The

ulterior consequences, therefore, of a more general introduction of steam

power into that new region, connected with a highway across the isthmus of

Panama, no one can calculate. The experiment along the shores of Chili and

Peru has already commenced; and the cheap rate at which fossil fuel can be

had has proved a great facility. Under circumstances so peculiarly

propitious, to what an extent, then, may not steam navigation be carried

on the smooth expanse of the Southern ocean? If there are two sections of

the globe more pre-eminently suited for commercial intercourse than others,

they are the western shores of America and Southern Asia. To these two

markets, consequently, will the attention of manufacturing nations be

turned; and, should the project here proposed be carried into effect,

depots of merchandize will be formed on and near the isthmus, when the

riches of Europe and America will move more easily towards Asia; while, in

return, the productions of Asia will be wafted towards America and Europe.

If we entertain the expectation, that at no distant period of time our

West India possessions will become advanced posts, and aid in the

development of the resources abounding in that extended and varied region

at the entrance of which they are stationed--if the several islands there

which hoist the British flag are destined to be resting-places for that

trade between Great Britain and the Southern sea, now opening to European

industry--these two great interests cannot be so effectually advanced as

by the means above suggested.

[29] Mr Scarlett says, that the depth of water at Chagre is

sufficient for steamers and large schooners, which can be

navigated without obstruction as far up as the mouth of the

Trinidad. By descending that river, he himself crossed the isthmus

in seventeen hours--viz. from Panama to Cruces, eight; and thence

to Chagre, nine. Mr Wheelright, the American gentleman above

quoted, says that the transit of the isthmus during the dry

season, (from November to June--and wet from June to November,) is

neither inconvenient nor unpleasant. The canoes are covered,

provisions and fruits cheap along the banks of the Chagre, and

there is always personal security. The temperature, although warm,

is healthy. At the same time it must be confessed, that in the

rainy season a traveller is subject to great exposure and

consequent illness; but if the railroad was roofed this objection

might be removed. It is on all hands agreed, that the climate of

the isthmus would be greatly improved by drainage, and clearing

the country of the immense quantities of vegetable matter left

rotting on the ground. The beds of seaweed, in a constant state of

decomposition on the Pacific shore, create miasmata unquestionably

injurious to health.

It has generally been thought that the long-neglected isthmus of Suez is

the shortest road to India, but besides being precarious, and suited only

for the conveyance of light weights, that line only embraces one object;

whereas the establishment of a communication across that of Panama, would

be like the creation of a new geographical and commercial world--it would

bring two extremities of the earth closer together, and, besides, connect

many intermediate points. It would open to European nations the portals to

a new field of enterprise, and complete the series of combinations forming

to develop the riches with which the Pacific abounds, by presenting to

European industry a new group of producers and consumers. The remotest

regions of the East would thus come more under the influence of European

civilization; while, by a quicker and safer intercourse, our Indian

possessions would be rendered more secure, and our new connexion with

China strengthened. Besides the wealth arriving from Asia and the islands

in the wide Pacific, the produce of Acapulco, San Blas, California, Nootka

Sound, and the Columbia river, on the one side, and of Guayaquil, Peru,

and Chili, on the other, would come to the Atlantic by a shorter route, at

the same time that we might receive advices from New Holland and New

Zealand with only half the delay we now do.

The mere recurrence to a map will at once show, that the isthmus of Panama

is destined to become a great commercial thoroughfare, and, at a moderate

expense, might be made the seat of an extensive trade. By the facilities

of communication across, new wants would be created; and, as fresh markets

open to European enterprise, a proportionate share of the supplies would

fall to our lot. In the present depressed state of our commercial

relations, some effort must be made to apply the industry of the country

to a larger range of objects. A century of experiments and labour has

changed the face of nature in our own country, quadrupled the produce of

our lands, and extended a green mantle over districts which once wore the

appearance of barren wastes; but the consumption of our manufactures

abroad has not risen in the same proportion. It behoves us, then, to

explore and secure new markets, which can best be done by connecting

ourselves with those regions to which the isthmus of Panama is the

readiest avenue. In a mercantile point of view, the importance of the

western coasts of America is only partially known to us. With the

exception of Valparaiso and Lima, our merchants seldom visit the various

ports along that extended line, to which the establishment of the Hudson's

Bay Company on the Columbia river gives a new feature. Although abounding

in the elements of wealth, in many of these secluded regions the spark of

commercial life has scarcely been awakened by foreign intercourse. Our

whale-fisheries in the Pacific may also require more protection than they

have hitherto done; and if we ever hope to have it in our power to obtain

live alpacas from Peru as a new stock in this country, and at a rate cheap

enough for the farmer to purchase and naturalize them, it must be by the

way of Panama, by which route guano manure may also be brought over to us

at one half of the present charges. We are now sending bonedust and other

artificial composts to Jamaica and our other islands in the West Indies,

in order to restore the soil, impoverished by successive sugar-cane crops,

while the most valuable fertilizer, providentially provided on the other

side of the isthmus, remains entirely neglected.

The establishment of a more direct intercourse with the Pacific, it will

therefore readily be acknowledged, is an undertaking worthy of a great

nation, and conformable to the spirit of the age in which we are

living--an undertaking which would do more honour to Great Britain, and

ultimately prove more beneficial to our merchants, than any other that

possibly could be devised. Nor is it to be imagined that other nations are

insensible to the advantages which they would derive from an opening of

this kind. The feelings and sentiments of the French upon this subject

have already been briefly noticed. The King of Holland has expressed

himself favourable to the undertaking, nor are the Belgians behind hand in

their good wishes for its accomplishment. If possible, the North Americans

have a larger and more immediate interest in its success than the

commercial nations of Europe. Ever since their acquisition of Louisiana, a

general spirit of enterprise has directed a large portion of their

population towards the head waters of the Mississippi and Missouri--a

spirit which impels a daring and thrifty race of men gradually to advance

towards the north-west. Captain Clark's excursion in 1805, had for its

object the discovery of a route to the Pacific by connecting the Missouri

and Columbia rivers, a subject on which, even at that early period, he

expressed himself thus:--"I consider this track across the continent of

immense advantage to the fur trade, as all the furs collected in

nine-tenths of the most valuable fur country in America, may be conveyed

to the mouth of the Columbia river, and thence shipped to the East Indies

by the 15th of August in each year, and will, of course, reach Canton

earlier than the furs which are annually exported from Montreal arrive in

Great Britain."

This extract will suffice to show the spirit of emulation by which the

citizens of the Union were, even at so remote a period, actuated in

reference to the north-west coast of America--a spirit which has since

manifested itself in a variety of ways, and in much stronger terms. The

distance overland is, however, too great, and the population too scanty,

for this route to be rendered available for the general purposes of

traffic, at least for many years to come. The North Americans have,

therefore, turned their attention to other points offering facilities of

communication with the Pacific; and the line to which they have usually

given the preference is the Mexican, or more northern one, across the

isthmus of Tehuantepec, situated partly in the province of Oaxaca and

partly in that of Vera Cruz. The facilities afforded by this locality have

been described by several tourists; but supposing that the river

Guassacualco, on the Atlantic, is, or can be made navigable for large

vessels as high up as the isthmus of Tehuantepec, (as to deep water at the

entrance, there is no doubt,) still a carriage road for at least sixteen

leagues would be necessary. The intervening land, although it may contain

some favourable breaks, is nevertheless avowedly so high, that from some

of the mountain summits the two oceans my be easily seen. The obstacles to

a road, and much more so to a canal, are therefore very considerable; and

a suitable and corresponding outlet into the Pacific, besides, has not yet

been discovered.

This, then, is by no means so eligible a spot as the isthmus of Panama.

From its situation, the Tehuantepec route would, nevertheless, be

extremely valuable to the North Americans; and it must not be forgotten

that, in this stirring age, there is scarcely an undertaking that baffles

the ingenuity of man. Owing to their position, the North Americans would

gain more by shortening the passage to the Pacific than ourselves; and

Tehuantepec being the nearest point to them suited for that object, and

also the one which they could most effectually control, it is more than

probable that, at some future period, they will use every effort to have

it opened. The country through which the line would pass is confessedly

richer, healthier, and more populous, than that contiguous to the Lake of

Nicaragua, or across the isthmus of Panama; but should the work projected

ever be carried into execution, eventually this route must become an

American monopoly.

The citizens of the United States, it will therefore readily be believed,

are keenly alive to the subject, and calculate thus:--A steamer leaving

the Mississippi can reach Guassacualco in six days; in seven, her cargo

might be transferred across the isthmus of Tehuantepec to the Pacific, and

in fifty more reach China--total, sixty-three days. As an elucidation, let

us suppose that the usual route to the same destination, round Gape Horn,

from a more central part of the Union--Philadelphia, for example--is 16,

150 miles; in that case the distance saved, independent of less sea risk,

would be as follows:--From the Delaware to Guassacualco, 2100 miles;

across Tehuantepec to the Pacific, 120; to the Sandwich Islands, 3835; to

the Ladrone do., 3900; and to Canton, 2080--total, 12,035 miles; whereby

the saving would be 4115, besides affording greater facilities for the

application of steam. Their estimate of the saving to the Columbia river

is still more encouraging. From one of their central ports the distance

round Cape Horn is estimated at 18,261 miles; whereas by the Mexican route

it would be, to Guassacualco and overland to the Pacific, 2220 miles, and

thence to the Columbia river, 2760--total, 4980; thus leaving the enormous

difference of 13, 281 miles--two-thirds of the distance, besides the

advantage of a safer navigation. By the new route, and the aid of steam, a

voyage to the destination above named may be performed in thirty instead

of a hundred and forty days; and as the population extends towards the

north-west, the Columbia river must become a place of importance. Hitherto

the Pacific ports of Mexico and California have chiefly been supplied with

goods carried overland from Vera Cruz, surcharged with heavy duties and

expenses. More need not be said to show that the United States are on the

alert; nor can it be imagined that they will allow any favourable

opportunity of securing to themselves an easier access to the Pacific to

escape them. On finding another road open, they would, however, be

inclined to desist from seeking a line of communication for themselves.

There is, indeed, every reason to expect that they would cheerfully concur

in a work, the completion of which would so materially redound to their

advantage.

Nothing, indeed, can be more evident than the fact, that not only Great

Britain and the United States, but also all the commercial nations of

Europe, are deeply interested in securing for themselves a shorter and

safer passage into the great Pacific, on terms the most prompt and

economical that circumstances will allow; and the success which has

attended civilization within the present century, demands that this effort

should be made, in which, from her position, Great Britain is peculiarly

called upon to take the initiative. For the last twenty years the Panamese

have been buoyed up with the hope, that an attempt, of some kind or other,

would be made to open a communication across their isthmus, calculated to

compensate them for all their losses; and hence they have always been

disposed to second the exertions of any respectable party prepared to

undertake a work which they cannot themselves accomplish. They have heard

of the time of the _Galeones_, when the fleet, annually arriving from Peru,

landed its treasures in their port, which were exultingly carried overland

to Porto Bello, where the fair was held. "On that occasion," says Ulloa,

"the road was covered with droves of mules, each consisting of above a

hundred, laden with boxes of gold and silver," &c. Panama then rose into

consequence, attaining a state of wealth and prosperity which ceased when

the trade from the western shores took another direction. The natives and

local authorities would consequently rejoice at an event so favourable to

them, and vie with each other in according to the projectors every aid and

protection. Provisions and rents are cheap, and, under all circumstances,

the work might be completed at half the expense it would cost in Europe.

At various periods foreign individuals have obtained grants to carry the

project into execution, but time proved that they were mere speculators,

unprovided with capital, and unfortunately death prevented Bolivar from

realizing his favourite scheme. For the same object, attempts have also

been made to form companies; but, owing to the hitherto unsettled state of

the government in whose territory the isthmus is situated, the

unpopularity of South American enterprizes, and the fact that no grant

made to private individuals could afford sufficient security for the

outlay of capital, these schemes fell to the ground. The non-performance

of the promises made by the grantees, at length induced the Congress of

New Granada to annul all privileges conferred on individuals for the

purpose of opening a canal, or constructing a railroad across the isthmus,

and notifying that the project should be left open for general competition.

This determination, and the ulterior views of the French in that quarter,

have again brought the subject under discussion; and it is thought that a

fresh attempt will, erelong, be made to organize a company. It must,

however, be evident to every reflecting mind, that although the scheme has

a claim on the best energies of our countrymen, and is entitled to the

efficient patronage of government, yet, even if the funds were for this

purpose raised through private agency, the works never could be carried

into execution in a manner consistent with the magnitude of the object in

view, or the concern administered on a plan calculated to produce the

results anticipated. No body of individuals ought, indeed, to receive and

hold such a grant as would secure to them the tenure of the lands required

for the undertaking. If such a privilege could be rendered valid, it would

place in their hands a monopoly liable to abuses.

The best expedient would be for the several maritime and commercial

nations interested in the success of the enterprize, to unite and enter

into combinations, so as to secure for themselves a safe and permanent

transit for the benefit of all; and then let the work be undertaken with

no selfish or ambitious views, but in a spirit of mutual fellowship; and,

when completed, let this be a highway for each party contributing to the

expense, enjoyed and protected by all. At first sight this idea may appear

romantic--the combinations required may be thought difficult; but every

where the extension of commerce is now the order of the day, and the good

understanding which prevails among the parties who might be invited to

concur in the work, warrants the belief that, at a moment so peculiarly

auspicious, little diplomatic ingenuity would be required to procure their

assent and co-operation. By means of negotiations undertaken by Great

Britain and conducted in a right spirit, trading nations would be induced

to agree and contribute to the expenses of the enterprize in proportion to

the advantages which they may hope to derive from its completion. If, for

example, the estimate of the cost amounted to half a million sterling,

Great Britain, France, and the United States might contribute L.100,000

each, and the remainder be divided among the minor European states--each

having a common right to the property thereby created, and each a

commissioner on the spot, to watch over their respective interests.

This would be the most honourable and effectual mode of improving

facilities to which the commerce and civilization of Europe have a claim.

It is the settled conviction of the most intelligent persons who have

traversed the isthmus, that these facilities exist to the extent herein

described and unity of purpose is therefore all that is wanting for the

attainment of the end proposed. Jealousies would be thus obviated; and to

such a concession as the one suggested, the local government could have no

objection, as its own people would participate in the benefits flowing

from it. This is indeed a tribute due from the New to the Old World; nor

could the other South American states hesitate to sanction a grant made

for a commercial purpose, and for the general advantage of mankind. The

isthmus of Panama, that interesting portion of their continent, has

remained neglected for ages; and so it must continue, at least as regards

any great and useful purpose, unless called into notice by extraordinary

combinations. With so many prospective advantages before us, it is

therefore to be hoped that the time has arrived when Great Britain will

take the initiative, and promote the combinations necessary to establish a

commercial intercourse between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, an event

that would widen the scope for maritime enterprizes more than any that has

happened within the memory of the present generation, and connect us more

closely with those countries which have lately been the theatre of our

triumphs. The East India and Hudson's Bay Companies, the traders to China

and the Indian archipelago, the Australian and New Zealand colonists,

together with their connexions at home--in a word, all those who are

desirous of shortening the tedious and perilous navigation round Cape Horn

and the Cape of Good Hope--would be benefited by the construction of a

railroad; which, by making Panama an entrepot of supplies for the western

shores of America and the islands in the Pacific, either in direct

communication with Great Britain or the West India colonies, our

manufacturers would participate in the profits of an increased demand for

European commodities, which necessarily must follow the accomplishment of

so grand a design.

* * * * *

TWO DREAMS.

The Germans and French differ more from each other in the art and mystery

of story-telling than either of them do from the English. It would be very

easy to point out tales which are very popular in Paris, that would make

no sensation at Vienna or Berlin; and, _vice versa_, we cannot imagine how

the French can possibly enter into the spirit of many of the best known

authors of Deutschland. In England, we are happy to say we can appreciate

them all. History, philology, philosophy--in short, all the modes and

subdivisions of heavy authorship--we leave out of the question, and

address ourselves, on this occasion, to the distinctive characteristics of

the two schools of _light_ literature--schools which have a wider

influence, and number more scholars, than all the learned academies put

together.

In this country an outcry has been raised against the French authors in

this department, and in favour of the Germans, on the ground of the

frightful immorality of the first, and the sound principles of the other.

French impiety is not a more common expression, applied to their writings,

than German honesty. It will, perhaps, be right at starting to state, that,

in regard to decency and propriety, the two nations are on a par; if there

is any preponderance, one way or other, it certainly is not in favour of

the Germans, whose derelictions in those respects are more solemn, and

apparently sincere, than their flippant and superficial rivals. Many

authors there are, of course, in both countries, whose works are

unexceptionable in spirit and intention; but as to the assertion, that one

literature is of a higher tone of morals than the other, it is a mistake.

The great majority of the entertaining works in both are unfit _pueris

virginibusque_.

Before the Revolution, Voltaire was as popular in England as in the rest

of Europe; his powers as highly admired, and his short _historiettes_ as

much quoted: their wit being considered a sufficient counterbalance of

their coarseness. But with the war between the two nations, arose a hatred

between the two literatures; with Swift and Tristram Shandy in our hands,

we turned up our eyes in holy indignation at Candide; we saw nothing to

admire in any thing French; and as our condition in politics became more

isolated, and we grew like our ancestors, _toto divisos orbe Britannos_--

we could see no beauty in any thing foreign. The Orders in Council

extended to criticism; and all continental languages were placed in

blockade. The first nation who honestly and zealously took our part

against the enemy was the German; and from that time we began to study

_achs_ and _dochs_. Leipsic, that made Napoleon little, made Goethe great;

and to Waterloo we are indebted for peace and freedom, and also for a

belief in the truth and talent of a host of German authors, whose

principal merit consisted in the fact of their speaking the same language

in which Blucher called for his tobacco. The opposite feelings took rise

from our enmity to the French; and though by this time we have sense

enough to be on good terms with the _crapauds_, and on visiting terms with

Louis Philippe, we have not got over our antipathy to their tongue. During

the contest, we had constantly refreshed our zeal by fervent declarations

of contempt for the frog-eating, spindle shanked mounseers, and persuaded

ourselves that their whole literature consisted in atheism and murder, and

though we now know that frogs are by no means the common food of the

peasantry--costing about a guinea a dish--and that it is possible for a

Frenchman to be a strapping fellow of six feet high, the taint of our

former persuasion remains with us still as to their books; and, in some

remote districts, we have no doubt that Peter Pindar would be thought a

more harmless volume in a young lady's hands than _Pascal's Thoughts_--in

French.

It is not unlikely that the Customs' Union may lower our estimate of

Weimar; a five years' war with Austria and Prussia, especially if we were

assisted by the French, would make us rank Schiller himself--the greatest

of German names--on the same humble level where we now place Victor Hugo.

But there are thousands, of people in this good realm of England, who

actually consider such beings a Spindler and Vandervelde superior to the

noble genius who created _Notre Dame de Paris_. Poor as our own

novel-writers, by profession, have shown themselves of late years, their

efforts are infinitely superior to the very best of the German

novelists; and yet we see advertisements every day in the newspapers, of

new translations from fourth or fifth-rate scribblers for Leipsic fair,

which would lead one to expect a far higher order of merit than any of

our living authors can show. "A new work by the Walter Scott of

Germany!" A new work by the Newton of Stoke Pogis! A new picture by the

Apelles of the Isle of Man! The Walter Scott of Germany, according to

somebody's saying about Milton, is a very _German_ Walter Scott; and, if

under this ridiculous pull is concealed some drivelling historical hash

by Spindler or Tromlits, the force of impudence can no farther go.

But we must take care not to be carried too far in our depreciation of

German light literature by our indignation at the over-estimate formed of

some of its professors. Let us admit that there are admirable authors--a

fact which it would be impossible to deny with such works before us as

Tieck's, and Hoffman's, and a host of others--_quos nunc perscribere

longum est_. Let us leave the small fry to the congenial admiration of the

devourers of our circulating libraries, and form our judgment of the

respective methods of conducting a story of the French and Germans, from a

comparison of the heroes of each tongue. Let us judge of Greek and Roman

war from the Phalanx and the Legion, and not from the suttlers of the two

camps. A great excellence in a German novelist is the prodigious faith he

seems to have in his own story; he relates incidents as if he knew them of

his own knowledge; and the wilder and more incredible they are, the more

firm and solemn becomes his belief. The Frenchman never descends from

holding the wires of the puppets to be a puppet himself, or even to delude

spectators with the idea that they are any thing but puppets; he never

forfeits his superiority over the personages of the story, by allowing the

reader to lose sight of the author; no, he piques himself on being the

great showman, and would scarcely take it as a compliment if you entered

into the interest of the tale, unless as an exhibition of the narrator's

talent. But then he handles his wires so cleverly, and is really so

immensely superior to the fictitious individuals whom he places before us,

that it is no great wonder if we prefer Alexander Dumas or Jules Janin to

their heroes. The Germans, relying on their own powers of belief, have

taxed their readers' credulity to a pitch which sober Protestants find it

very difficult to attain. Old Tieck or Hoffman introduces you to ghouls

and ghosts, and they look on them, themselves, with such awestruck eyes,

and treat them in every way with such demonstrations of perfect credence

in their being really ghouls and ghosts, that it is not to be denied that

strange feelings creep over one in reading their stories at the witching

hour, when the fire is nearly out, and the candle-wicks are an inch and a

half long. The Frenchman seldom introduces a ghost--never a ghoul; but he

makes up for it by describing human beings with sentiments which would

probably make the ghoul feel ashamed to associate with them. The utmost

extent of human profligacy is depicted, but still the profligacy is human;

it is only an amplification--very clever and very horrid--of a real

character; but never borrows any additional horrors from the other world.

A French author knows very well that the wickedness of this world is quite

enough to set one's hair on end--for we suspect that the _Life in Paris_

would supply any amount of iniquity--and professors of the shocking, like

Frederick Soulie or Eugene Sue, can afford very well to dispense with

vampires and gentlemen who have sold their shadows to the devil. The

German, in fact, takes a short cut to the horrible and sublime, by

bringing a live demon into his story, and clothing him with human

attributes; the Frenchman takes the more difficult way, and succeeds in it,

by introducing a real man, and endowing him with the sentiments of a fiend.

The fault of the one is exaggeration; of the other, miscreation: redeemed

in the first by extraordinary cleverness; in the other, by wonderful

belief. What a contrast between La Motte Fouqué and Balzac! how national

and characteristic both! No one can read a chapter of the _Magic Ring_

without seeing that the Baron believes in all the wonders of his tale; a

page of the other suffices to show that there are few things on the face

of the earth in which he believes at all. Dim, mystic, childish, with

open mouth and staring eyes, the German sees the whole phantasmagoria of

the nether world pass before him: keen, biting, sarcastic--egotistic as

a beauty, and cold-hearted as Mephistopheles--the Frenchman walks among

his figures in a gilded drawing room; probes their spirits, breaks their

hearts, ruins their reputation, and seems to have a profound contempt

for any reader who is so carried away by his power as to waste a touch

of sympathy on the unsubstantial pageants he has clothed for a brief

period in flesh and blood. We confess the sober _super_-naturalism of

the German has less attractions with us, than the grinning

_infra_-naturalism of the Frenchman. There is more sameness in it, and,

besides, it is to be hoped we have at all tines less sympathy for the

very best of devils than for the very worst of men. Luckily for the

Frenchman, he has no need to go to the lower regions to procure monsters

to make us shudder. His own tremendous Revolution furnishes him with

names before which Lucifer must hide his diminished head; and from this

vast repertory of all that is horrid and grotesque--more horrid on

account of its grotesqueness--the _feuilletonists_, or short

story-tellers, are not indisposed to draw. We back Danton any day

against Old Nick. And how infinitely better the effect of introducing a

true villain in plain clothes, relying for his power only on the known

and undeniable atrocity of his character, than all the pale-faced,

hollow-eyed denizens of the lower pit, concealing their cloven feet in

polished-leather Wellington boots, and their tails in a fashionable

surtout. We shall translate a short story of Balzac, which will

illustrate these remarks, only begging the reader to fancy to himself

how different the _denouément_ would have been in the hands of a German;

how demons, instead of surgeons and attorneys, would have disclosed

themselves at the end of the story, how blue the candles would have

burned; and what an awful smell of brimstone would have been perceptible

when they disappeared. It is called the _Two Dreams_, and, we think, is

a sketch of great power.

* * * * *

Bodard de St James, treasurer of the navy in 1786, was the best known, and

most talked of, of all the financiers in Paris. He had built his

celebrated Folly at Neuilly, and his wife had bought an ornament of

feathers for the canopy of her bed, the enormous price of which had put it

beyond the power of the Queen. Bodard possessed the magnificent hotel in

the Place Vendôme which the collector of taxes, Dangé, had been forced to

leave. Madame de St James was ambitious, and would only have people of

rank about her--a weakness almost universal in persons of her class. The

humble members of the lower house had no charms for her. She wished to see

in her saloons the nobles and dignitaries of the land who had, at least,

the _grand entrées_ at Versailles. To say that many _cordons bleus_

visited the fair financier would be absurd; but it is certain she had

managed to gain the notice of several of the Rohan family, as came out

very clearly in the celebrated process of the necklace.

One evening, I think it was the 2d of August 1786, I was surprised to

encounter in her drawing-room two individuals, whose appearance did not

entitle them to the acquaintance of a person so exclusive as the

Treasurer's wife. She came to me in an embrasure of the window where I had

taken my seat.

"Tell me," I said, with a look towards one of the strangers, "who in the

world is that? How does such a being find his way here?"

"He is a charming person, I assure you."

"Oh--you see him through the spectacles of love!" I said, and smiled.

"You are not mistaken," she replied, smiling also. "He is horribly ugly,

no doubt, but he has rendered me the greatest service a man can do to

woman."

I laughed, and I suppose looked maliciously, for she hastily added--"He

has entirely cured me of those horrid eruptions in the face, that made my

complexion like a peasant's."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Oh--he's a quack!" I said.

"No, no," she answered, "he is a surgeon of good reputation. He is very

clever, I assure you; and, moreover, he is an author. He's an excellent

doctor."

"And the other?" I enquired.

"Who? What other?"

"The little fellow with the starched, stiff face--looking as sour as if he

had drunk verjuice."

"Oh! he is a man of good family. I don't know where he comes from. He is

engaged in some business of the Cardinal's, and it was his Eminence

himself who presented him to St James. Both parties have chosen St James

for umpire; in that, you will say, the provincial has not shown much

wisdom; but who can the people be who confide their interests to such a

creature? He is quiet as a lamb, and timid as a girl; but his Eminence

courts him--for the matter is of importance--three hundred thousand francs,

I believe."

"He's an attorney, then?"

"Yes," she replied; and, after the humiliating confession, took her seat

at the Faro table.

I went and threw myself in an easy chair at the fireplace; and if ever a

man was astonished it was I, when I saw seated opposite me the

Controller-General! M. de Calonne looked stupified and half-asleep. I

nodded to Beaumarchais, and looked as if I wished an explanation; and the

author of Figaro, or rather Figaro himself, made clear the mystery in a

manner not very complimentary to Madame de St James s character, whatever

it might be to her beauty. "Oho! the minister is caught," I thought; "no

wonder the Collector lives in such style."

It was half-past twelve before the card-tables were removed, and we sat

down to supper. We were a party of ten--Bodard and his wife, the

Controller-General, Beaumarchais, the two strangers, two handsome women

whose names I will not mention, and a collector of taxes, I think a M.

Lavoisier. Of thirty who had been in the drawing-room when I entered,

these were all who remained. The supper was stupid beyond belief. The two

strangers and the Collector were intolerable bores. I made signs to

Beaumarchais to make the surgeon tipsy, while I undertook the same kind

office with the attorney, who sat on my left. As we had no other means of

amusing ourselves, and the plan promised some fun, by bringing out the two

interlopers and making them more ridiculous than we had found them already,

M. de Calonne entered into the plot. In a moment the three ladies saw our

design, and joined in it with all their power. The surgeon seemed very

well inclined to yield; but when I had filled my neighbour's glass for the

third time, he thanked me with cold politeness, and would drink no more.

The conversation, I don't know from what cause, had turned on the magic

suppers of the Count Cagliostro. I took little interest in it, for, from

the moment of my neighbour's refusal to drink, I had done nothing but

study his pale and small featured countenance. His nose was flat and

sharp-pointed at the same time, and occasionally an expression came to his

eyes that gave him the appearance of a weasel. All at once the blood

rushed to his cheeks when he heard Madame St James say to M. de Calonne--

"But I assure you, sir, I have actually seen Queen Cleopatra."

"I believe it, madame," exclaimed my neighbour; "for I have spoken to

Catharine de Medicis."

"Oh! oh!" laughed M. De Calonne.

The words uttered by the little provincial had an indefinable sonorousness.

The sudden clearness of intonation, from a man who, up to this time, had

scarcely spoken above his breath, startled us all.

"And how was her late Majesty?" said M. De Calonne.

"I can't positively declare that the person with whom I supped last night

was Catharine de Medicis herself, for a miracle like that must be

incredible to a Christian as well as to a philosopher," replied the

attorney, resting the points of his fingers on the table, and setting

himself up in his chair, as if he intended to speak for some time; "but I

can swear that the person, whoever she was, resembled Catharine de Medicis

as if they had been sisters. She wore a black velvet robe, exactly like

the dress of that queen given in her portrait in the Royal Gallery; and

the rapidity of her evocation was most surprising, as M. De Cagliostro had

no idea of the person I should desire him to call up. I was confounded.

The sight of a supper at which the illustrious women of past ages were

present, took away my self-command. I listened without daring to ask a

question. On getting away at midnight from the power of his enchantments,

I almost doubted of my own existence. But what is the most wonderful thing

about it is, that all those marvels appear to be quite natural and

commonplace compared to the extraordinary hallucination I was subjected to

afterwards. I don't know how to explain the state of my feelings to you in

words; I will only say that, from henceforth, I an not surprised that

there are spirits--strong enough or weak enough, I know not which--to

believe in the mysteries of magic and the power of demons."

These words were pronounced with an incredible eloquence of tone. They

were calculated to arrest our attention, and all eyes were fixed on the

speaker. In that man, so cold and self-possessed, there burned a hidden

fire which began to act upon us all.

"I know not," he continued, "whether the figure followed me in a state of

invisibility; but the moment I got into bed, I saw the great shade of

Catharine rise before me: all of a sudden she bent her head towards

me--but I don't know whether I ought to go on," said the narrator,

interrupting himself; "for though I must believe it was only a dream, what

I have to tell is of the utmost weight."

"Is it about religion?" enquired Beaumarchais.

"Or, perhaps, something not fit for ladies' ears?" added M. de Calonne.

"It is about government," replied the stranger.

"Go on, then," said the Minister: "Voltaire, Diderot, and Company, have

tutored our ears to good purpose."

"Whether it was that certain ideas rose involuntarily to my mind, or that

I was acting under some irresistible impulse, I said to her--'Ah, madame,

you committed an enormous crime.'

"'What crime?' she asked me in a solemn voice.

"'That of which the Palace clock gave the signal on the 24th of August.'

"She smiled disdainfully. 'You call that a crime?' she said: ''twas

nothing but a misfortune. The enterprise failed, and has, therefore, not

produced all the good we expected from it--to France, to Europe, to

Christianity itself. The orders were ill executed, and posterity makes no

allowance for the want of communication which hindered us from giving all

the unity to our effort which is requisite in affairs of state;--that was

the misfortune. If on the 26th of August there had not remained the shadow

of a Huguenot in France, the latest posterity would have looked upon me

with awe, as a Providence among men. How often have the clear intellects

of Sextus the Fifth, of Richelieu, and Bossuet, secretly accused me of

having failed in the design, after having had the courage to conceive it;

and therefore how my death was regretted! Thirty years after the St

Bartholomew, the malady existed still; and cost France ten times the

quantity of noble blood that remained to be spilt on the 26th August 1572.

The revocation of the Edict of Nantes, in honour of which medals were

struck, cost more blood, more tears, and more treasure, and has been more

injurious to France, than twenty St Bartholomews. If on the 25th August

1572, that enormous execution was necessary, on the 25th August 1685 it

was useless. Under the second son of Henry de Valois heresy was almost

barren; under the second son of Henry de Bourbon she had become a fruitful

mother, and scattered her progeny over the globe. You accuse _me_ of a

crime, and yet you raise statues to the son of Anne of Austria!'

"At these words--slowly uttered--I felt a shudder creep over me. I seemed

to inhale the smell of blood."

"He dreamt that to a certainty," whispered Beaumarchais; "he _could_ not

have invented it."

"'My reason is confounded,' I said to the queen. 'You plume yourself on an

action which three generations have condemned and cursed, and'--

"'And,' she interrupted, 'that history has been more unjust to me than my

contemporaries were. Nobody has taken up my defence. I am accused of

ambition--I, rich and a queen--I am accused of cruelty; and the most

impartial judges consider me a riddle. Do you think that I was actuated by

feelings of hatred; that I breathed nothing but vengeance and fury?' She

smiled. 'I was calm and cold as Reason herself. I condemned the Huguenots

without pity, it is true, but without anger. If I had been Queen of

England, I would have done the same to the Catholics if they had been

seditious. Our country required at that time one God, one faith, one

master. Luckily for me, I have described my policy in a word. When Birague

announced to me the defeat at Dreux--well, I said, we must go to the

Conventicle.--Hate the Huguenots, indeed! I honoured them greatly, and I

did not know them. How could I hate those who had never been my friends?'

"'But, madame, instead of that horrible butchery, why did you not try to

give the Calvinists the wise indulgences which made the reign of the

Fourth Henry so peaceable and so glorious?'

"She smiled again, and the wrinkles in her face and brow gave an

expression of the bitterest irony to her pale features.

"'Henry committed two faults,' she said. He ought neither to have abjured,

nor to have left France Catholic after having become so himself. He alone

was in a position to change the destinies of France. There should have

been either no Crosier or no Conventicle. He should never have left in the

government two hostile principles, with nothing to balance them. It is

impossible that Sully can have looked without envy on the immense

possessions of the church. But,' she paused, and seemed to consider for a

moment--'is it the niece of a pope you are surprised to see a Catholic?

After all,' she said, 'I could have been a Calvinist with all my heart.

Does any one believe that religion had any thing to do with that movement,

that revolution, the greatest the world has ever seen, which has been

retarded by trifling causes, but which nothing can hinder from coming to

pass, since I failed to crush it? A revolution,' she added, fixing her eye

on me, 'which is even now in motion, and which you--yes, you--you who now

listen to me--can finish.'

"I shuddered.

"'What! has no one perceived that the old interests and the new have taken

Rome and Luther for their watchwords? What! Louis the Ninth, in order to

avoid a struggle of the same kind, carried away with him five times the

number of victims I condemned, and left their bones on the shores of

Africa, and is considered a saint; while I--but the reason is soon

given--I failed!'

"She bent her head, and was silent a moment. She was no longer a queen,

but one of those awful druidesses who rejoiced in human sacrifices, and

unrolled the pages of the Future by studying the records of the Past. At

length she raised her noble and majestic head again. 'You are all

inclined,' she said, 'to bestow more sympathy on a few worthless victims

than on the tears and sufferings of a whole generation! And you forget

that religious liberty, political freedom, a nation's tranquillity,

science itself, are benefits which Destiny never vouchsafes to man without

being paid for them in blood!'

"'Cannot nations, some day or other, obtain happiness on easier terms?' I

asked, with tears in my eyes.

"'Truths never leave their well unless to be bathed in blood. Christianity

itself--the essence of all truth, since it came from God--was not

established without its martyrs. Blood flowed in torrents.'

"Blood! blood! the word sounded in my ear like a bell.

"'You think, then,' I said, 'that Protestantism would have a right to

reason as you do.'

"But Catharine had disappeared, and I awoke, trembling and in tears, till

reason resumed her sway, and told me that the doctrines of that proud

Italian were detestable, and that neither king nor people had a right to

act on the principles she had enounced, which I felt were only worthy of a

nation of atheists."

When the unknown ceased to speak, the ladies made no remark. M. Bodard was

asleep. The surgeon, who was half tipsy, Lavoisier Beaumarchais, and I,

were the only ones who had listened. M. de Calonne was flirting with his

neighbour. At that moment there was something solemn in the silence. The

candles themselves seemed to me to burn with a magic dimness. A hidden

power had riveted our attention, by some mysterious links, to the

extraordinary narrator, who made me feel what might be the inexplicable

influence of fanaticism. It was only the deep hollow voice of Beaumarchais'

neighbour that awakened us from our surprise.

"I also had a dream," he said. I looked more attentively at the surgeon,

and instinctively shuddered with horror. His earthy colour--his features,

at once vulgar and imposing, presented the true expression of _the

canaille_. He had dark pimples spread over his face like patches of dirt,

and his eyes beamed with a repulsive light. His countenance was more

horrid, perhaps, than it might otherwise have been, from his head being

snow-white with powder.

"That fellow must have buried a host of patients," I said to my neighbour

the attorney.

"I would not trust him with my dog," was the answer.

"I hate him--I can't help it," I said.

"I despise him."

"No--you're wrong there," I replied.

"And did you also dream of a queen?" enquired Beaumarchais.

"No! I dreamt of a people," he answered with an emphasis that made us

laugh. "I had to cut off a patient's leg on the following day, and"--

"And you found the people in his leg?" asked M. de Calonne.

"Exactly," replied the surgeon.

"He's quite amusing," tittered the Countess de G----.

"I was rather astonished, I assure you," continued the man, without

minding the sneers and interruptions he met with, "to find any thing to

speak to in that leg. I had the extraordinary faculty of entering into my

patient. When I found myself, for the first time, in his skin, I saw an

immense quantity of little beings, which moved about, and thought, and

reasoned. Some lived in the man's body, and some in his mind. His ideas

were living things, which were born, grew up, and died. They were ill and

well, lively, sorrowful; and in short had each their own characteristics.

They quarrelled, or were friendly with each other. Some of these ideas

forced their way out, and went to inhabit the intellectual world; for I

saw at a glance that there were two worlds--the visible and the invisible,

and that earth, like man, had a body and soul. Nature laid itself bare to

me; and I perceived its immensity, by seeing the ocean of beings who were

spread every where, making the whole one mass of animated matter, from the

marbles up to God. It was a noble sight! In short, there was a universe in

my patient. When I inserted the knife in his gangrened leg I annihilated

millions of those beings. You laugh, ladies, to think you are possessed by

animals."

"Don't be personal," sneered M. de Calonne--"speak for yourself and your

patient."

"He, poor man, was so frightened by the cries of those animals, and

suffered such torture, that he tried to interrupt the operation. But I

persevered, and I told him that those noxious animals were actually

gnawing his bones. He made a movement, and the knife hurt my own side."

"He is an ass," said Lavoisier.

"No--he is only drunk," replied Beaumarchais.

"But, gentlemen, my dream has a meaning in it," cried the surgeon.

"Oh! oh!" exclaimed Bodard, who awoke at the moment--"my leg's asleep."

"Your animals are dead, my dear," said his wife.

"That man has a destiny to fulfill," cried my neighbour the attorney, who

had kept his eyes fixed on the narrator the whole time.

"It is to yours, sir," replied the frightful guest, who had overheard the

remark, "what action is to thought--what the body is to the soul." But at

this point his tongue became very confused from the quantity he had drunk,

and his further words were unintelligible.

Luckily for us, the conversation soon took another turn, and in half an

hour we forgot all about the surgeon, who was sound asleep in his chair.

The rain fell in torrents when we rose from table.

"The attorney is no fool," said I to Beaumarchais.

"He is heavy and cold," he replied; "but you see there are still steady,

good sort of people in the provinces, who are quite in earnest about

political theories, and the history of France. It is a leaven that will

work yet."

"Is your carriage here?" asked Madame de St James.

"No"--I replied coldly. "You wished me, perhaps, to take M. de Calonne

home?"

She left me, slightly offended at the insinuation, and turned to the

attorney.

"M. de Robespierre," she said, "will you have the kindness to set M. Marat

down at his hotel? He is not able to take care of himself."

* * * * *

THE GAME UP WITH REPEAL AGITATION.

"The game is up." Such were the words uttered with a somewhat different

intonation, which last month, in speaking of Mr O'Connell's crusade

against the peace of Ireland, we used tentatively, almost doubtfully, but

still in the spirit of hope, in reference to the crisis then apparently

impending, that the agitation might prolong itself by transmigrating into

some other shape, for that case we allowed. But in any result, foremost

amongst the auguries of hope was this--that the evil example of Mr O'

Connell's sedition would soon redress itself by a catastrophe not less

exemplary. And no consummation could satisfy us as a proper euthanasy of

this memorable conspiracy, which should not fasten itself as a _moral_ to

the long malice of the agitation growing out of it, as a natural warning,

and saying audibly to all future agitators--try not this scheme again, or

look for a similar humiliation. Those auguries are, in one sense,

accomplished; that consummation substantially is realized. Sedition has,

at last, countermined itself, and conspiracy we have seen in effect

perishing by its own excesses. Yet still, ingenuously speaking, we cannot

claim the merit of a felicitous foresight. That result _has_ come round

which we foreboded; but not in that sense which we intended to authorize,

nor exactly by those steps which we wished to see. We looked for the

extinction of this national scourge by its own inevitable decays: through

its own organization we had hoped that the Repeal Association should be

confounded: we trusted that an enthusiasm, founded in ignorance, and which,

in no one stage, could be said to have prospered, must finally droop

_spontaneously_, and that once _having_ drooped, through mere defect of

actions that bore any meaning, or tendencies that offered any promise, by

no felicities of intrigue could it ever be revived. Whether we erred in

the philosophy of our anticipations, cannot now be known; for, whether

wrong or right in theory, in practice our expectation has been abruptly

cut short. _A deus ex machinâ_ has descended amongst us abruptly, and

intercepted the natural evolution of the plot: the executive Government

has summarily effected the _peripetteia_ by means of a _coup d'état_; and

the end, such as we augured, has been brought about by means essentially

different.

Yet, if thus far we were found in error, would _not that_ argue a

corresponding error in the Government? If we, relying on the

self-consistency of the executive, and _because_ we relied on that

self-consistency, predicted a particular solution for the _nodus_ of

Repeal, which solution has now become impossible; presuming a

perseverance in the original policy of ministers, now that its natural

fruits were rapidly ripening--whereas, after all, at the eleventh hour

we find them adopting that course which, with stronger temptation, they

had refused to adopt in the first hour--were this the true portrait of

the case, would it be ourselves that erred, or Government?--ourselves in

counting on steadiness, or Government in acting with caprice? Meantime,

_is_ this the portrait of the case?

_That_ we shall know when Parliament meets; and possibly not before. At

present the attempts to explain, to reconcile, and, as it were, to

construe the Government system of policy, is first almost neglecting the

Irish sedition, and then (after half-a-year's sedentary and distant

skirmishing, by means of Chancery letters) suddenly, on the 7th day of

October, leaping into the arena armed cap-a-pie, dividing themselves like

a bomb-shell amongst the conspirators, rending--shattering--pursuing to

the right and to the left;--all attempts, we say, to harmonize that past

quiescence (almost _ac_quiescence) with this present demoniac energy, have

seemed to the public either false or feeble, or in some way insufficient.

Five such attempts we have noticed; and of the very best we may say that

perhaps it tells the truth, but not the whole truth. _First_ came the

solution of a great morning journal--to the effect that Government had,

knowingly and wilfully, altered their policy, treading back their own

steps upon finding the inefficiency of gentler measures. On this view no

harmonizing principle was called for the discord existed confessedly, and

the one course had been the _palinode_ of the other. But such a theory is

quite inadmissible to our minds; it tallies neither with the long-headed

and comprehensive sagacity of Sir Robert Peel, nor with the spirit of

simplicity, directness, and determination in the Duke of Wellington.

_Next_ came an evening paper, of high character for Conservative honesty

and ability, which (having all along justified the past policy of vigilant

neutrality) could not be supposed to acknowledge any fickleness in

ministers: the time for moderation and indulgence, according to this

journal, had now passed away: the season had arrived for law to display

its terrors. Not in the Government, but in the conspirators had occurred

the change: and so far--to the extent, namely, of taxing these

conspirators with gradual increase of virulence--it may ultimately turn

out that this journal is right. The fault for the present is--that the

nature of the change, its signs and circumstances, were not specified or

described. How, and by what memorable feature, did last June differ from

this October? and what followed, by its false show of subtlety,

discredited the whole explanation. It seems that notice was required of

this change: in mere equity, proclamation must be made of the royal

pleasure as to the Irish sedition: _that_ was done in the Queen's speech

on adjourning the two Houses. But time also must be granted for this

proclamation to diffuse itself, and _therefore_ it happened that the

Clontarf meeting was selected for the _coup d'essai_ of Government; in its

new character for "handselling" the new system of rigour, this Clontarf

assembly having fallen out just about six weeks from the Royal speech. But

this attempt to establish a metaphysical relation between the time for

issuing a threat, and the time for acting upon it, as though forty and two

days made that act to be reasonable which would _not_ have been so in

twenty and one, being suited chiefly to the universities in Laputa, did

not meet the approbation of our captious and beef-eating island: and this

second solution also, we are obliged to say; was exploded as soon us it

was heard. _Thirdly_, stepped forward one who promised to untie the knot

upon a more familiar principle: the thunder was kept back for so many

months in order to allow time for Mr O'Connell to show out in his true

colours, on the hint of an old proverb, which observes--that a baboon, or

other mischievous animal, when running up a scaffolding or a ship's

tackling, exposes his most odious features the more as he is allowed to

mount the higher. In that idea, there is certainly some truth. "Give him

rope enough, and every knave will hang himself"--is an old adage, a useful

adage, and often a consolatory one. The objection, in the case before us,

is--that our Irish hero _had_ shown himself already, and most redundantly,

on occasions notorious to every body, both previously to 1829, (the year

of Clare,) and subsequently. If, however, it should appear upon the trial

of the several conspirators for seditious language, that they, or that any

of them, had, by good _affidavits_, used indictable language in September,

not having used it sooner, or having guarded it previously by more

equivocal expressions, then it must be admitted that the spirit of this

third explanation _does_ apply itself to the case, though not in an extent

to cover the entire range of the difficulty. But a _fourth_ explanation

would evade the necessity of showing any such difference in the actionable

language held: according to this hypothesis, it was not for subjects to

prosecute that the Government waited, but for strength enough to prosecute

with effect, under circumstances which warned them to expect popular

tumults. In this statement, also, there is probably much truth, indeed, it

has now become evident that there is. Often we have heard it noticed by

military critics as the one great calamity of Ireland, that in earlier

days she had never been adequately conquered--not sufficiently for

extirpating barbarism, or sufficiently for crushing the local temptations

to resistance. Rebellion and barbarism are the two evils (and, since the

Reformation, in alliance with a third evil--religious hostility to the

empire) which have continually sustained themselves in Ireland, propagated

their several curses from age to age, and at this moment equally point to

a burden of misery in the forward direction for the Irish, and backwards

to a burden of reproach for the English. More men applied to Ireland, more

money and more determined legislation spent upon Ireland in times long

past, would have saved England tenfold expenditure of all these elements

in the three centuries immediately behind us, and possibly in that which

is immediately a-head. Such men as Bishop Bedell, as Bishop Jeremy Taylor,

or even as Bishop Berkeley, meeting in one generation and in one paternal

council, would have made Ireland long ago, by colonization and by

Protestantism, that civilized nation which, with all her advances in

mechanic arts[30] of education as yet she is not; would have made her that

tractable nation, which, after all her lustrations by fire and blood, for

her own misfortune she never has been; would have made her that strong arm

of the empire, which hitherto, with all her teeming population, for the

common misfortune of Europe she neither has been nor promises to be. By

and through this neglect it is, that on the inner hearths of the Roman

Catholic Irish, on the very altars of their _lares_ and _penates_, burns

for ever a sullen spark of disaffection to that imperial household, with

which, nevertheless and for ever, their own lot is bound up for evil and

for good; a spark always liable to be fanned by traitors--a spark for ever

kindling into rebellion; and in this has lain perpetually a delusive

encouragement to the hostility of Spain and France, whilst to her own

children, it is the one great snare which besets their feet. This great

evil of imperfect possession--if now it is almost past healing in its

general operation as an engine of civilization, and as applied to the

social training of the people--is nevertheless open to relief as respects

any purpose of the Government, towards which there may be reason to

anticipate a martial resistance. That part of the general policy fell

naturally under the care of our present great Commander-in-chief. Of him

it was that we spoke last month as watching Mr O'Connell's slightest

movements, searching him and nailing him with his eye. We told the reader

at the same time, that Government, as with good reason we believed, had

not been idle during the summer; their work had proceeded in silence; but,

upon any explosion or apprehension of popular tumult, it would be found

that more had been done by a great deal, in the way of preparations, than

the public was aware of. Barracks have every where been made technically

defensible; in certain places they have been provisioned against sieges;

forts have been strengthened; in critical situations redoubts, or other

resorts of hurried retreat, or of known rendezvous in cases of surprise,

have been provided; and in the most merciful spirit every advantage on the

other side has been removed or diminished which could have held out

encouragement to mutiny, or temptation to rebellion. Finally, on the

destined moment arriving, on the _casus foederis_ (whatever _that_ were)

emerging, in which the executive had predetermined to act, not the

perfection of clockwork, not the very masterpieces of scenical art, can

ever have exhibited a combined movement upon one central point--so swift,

punctual, beautiful, harmonious, more soundless than an exhalation, more

overwhelming than a deluge--as the display of military force in Dublin on

Sunday the 8th of October. Without alarm, without warning--as if at the

throwing up of a rocket in the dead of night, or at the summons of a

signal gun--the great capital, almost as populous as Naples or Vienna, and

far more dangerous in its excitement, found itself under military

possession by a little army--so perfect in its appointments as to make

resistance hopeless, and by that very hopelessness (as reconciling the

most insubordinate to a necessity) making irritation impossible. Last

month we warned Mr O'Connell of "the uplifted thunderbolt" suspended in

the Jovian hands of the Wellesley, but ready to descend when the "dignus

vindice nodus" should announce itself. And this, by the way, must have

been the "thunderbolt," this military demonstration, which, in our blind

spirit of prophecy doubtless, we saw dimly in the month of September last;

so that we are disposed to recant our confession even of partial error as

to the coming fortunes of Repeal, and to request that the reader will

think of us as of very decent prophets. But, whether we were so or not,

the Government (it is clear) acted in the prophetic spirit of military

wisdom. "The prophetic eye of taste"--as a brilliant expression for that

felicitous _prolepsis_ by which the painter or the sculptor sees already

in its rudiments what will be the final result of his labours--is a

phrase which we are all acquainted with, and the spirit of prophecy, the

far-stretching vision of sagacity, is analogously conspicuous in the

arts of Government, military or political, when providing for the

contingencies that may commence in pseudo-patriotism, or the

possibilities that may terminate in rebellion. Whether Government saw

those contingencies, whether Government calculated those possibilities

in June last--that is one part of the general question which we have

been discussing; and whether it was to a different estimate of such

chances in summer and in autumn, or to a necessity for time in preparing

against them, that we must ascribe the very different methods of the

Government in dealing with the sedition at different periods--_that_ is

the other part of the question. But this is certain--that whether seeing

and measuring from the first, or suddenly awakened to the danger of

late--in any case, the Government has silently prepared all along;

forestalling evils that possibly never were to arise, and shaping

remedies for disasters which possibly to themselves appeared romantic.

To provide for the worst, is an ordinary phrase, but what _is_ the

worst? Commonly it means the last calamity that experience suggests; but

in the admirable arrangements of Government it meant the very worst that

imagination could conceive--building upon treason at home in alliance

with hostility from abroad. At a time when resistance seemed supremely

improbable, yet, because amongst the headlong desperations of a

confounded faction even this was possible, the ministers determined to

deal with it as a certainty. Against the possible they provided as

against the probable; against the least of probabilities as against the

greatest. The very outside and remote extremities of what might be

looked for in a civil war, seem to have been assumed as a basis in the

calculations. And under that spirit of vista-searching prudence it was,

that the Duke of Wellington saw what we have insisted on, and

practically redressed it--viz. the defective military net-work by which

England has ever spread her power over Ireland. "This must not be," the

Duke said; "never again shall the blood of brave men be shed in

superfluous struggles, nor the ground be strewed with supernumerary

corpses--as happened in the rebellion of 1798--because forts were

wanting and loopholed barracks to secure what had been won; because

retreats were wanting to overawe what, for the moment, had been lost.

Henceforth, and before there is a blushing in the dawn of that new

rebellion which Mr O'Connell disowns, but to which his frenzy may rouse

others having less to lose than himself, we will have true technical

possession, in the military sense, of Ireland." Such has been the recent

policy of the Duke of Wellington: and for this, in so far as it is a

violence done to Ireland, or a badge of her subjection, she has to thank

Mr O'Connell: for this, in so far as it is a merciful arrangement,

diminishing bloodshed by discouraging resistance, she has to thank the

British Government. Mr O'Connell it is, that, by making rebellion

probable, has forced on this reaction of perfect preparation which, in

such a case, became the duty of the Government. The Duke of Wellington

it is, that, by using the occasion advantageously for the perfecting of

the military organization in Ireland, has made police do the work of

war; and by making resistance maniacal, in making it hopeless, has

eventually consulted even for the feelings of the rebellious, sparing to

them the penalties of insurrection in defeating its earliest symptoms;

and for the land itself, has been the chief of benefactors, by removing

systematically that inheritance of desolation attached to all civil

wars, in cutting away from below the feet of conspirators the very

ground on which they could take their earliest stand. Finally, it is Mr

O'Connell who has raised an anarchy in many Irish minds, in the minds of

all whom he influences, by placing their national feelings in collision

with their duty it is the Duke of Wellington who has reconciled the

bravest and most erroneous of Irish patriots to his place in a federal

system, by taking away all dishonour from submission under circumstances

where resistance has at length become notoriously as frantic as would be

a war with gravitation.

[30] "_Mechanic arts of education_:"--Merely in reading and

writing, the reader must not forget, that according to absolute

documents laid before Parliament, Ireland, in some counties, takes

rank before Prussia; whilst probably, in both countries, that real

education of life and practice, which moves by the commerce of

thought and the contagion of feelings, is at the lowest ebb.

As to the _fourth_ hypothesis, therefore, for explaining the apparent

inconsistencies of the Executive, we not only assent to it heartily as

involving part of the truth, but we have endeavoured to show earnestly

that the truth is a great truth; no casual aspect, or momentary feature of

truth, depending upon the particular relation at the time between Ireland

and the Horse Guards, or pointing simply to a better cautionary

distribution of the army; but a truth connected systematically with the

policy for Ireland in past times and in times to come. Where men like Mr O'

Connell _can_ arise, it is clear that the social condition of Ireland is

not healthy; that, as a country, she is not fused into a common substance

with the rest of the empire; that she is not fully to be trusted; and that

the road to a more effectual union lies, not through stricter coercion,

but through a system of instant defence making itself apparent to the

people as a means of provisional or potential coercion in the proper case

arising. One traitor cannot exist as a public and demonstrative character

without many minor traitors to back him. To Great Britain it ought to cost

no visible effort, resolutely and instantly to trample out every overture

of insubordination as quietly, peacefully, effectually, as the meeting of

conspirators at Clontarf on the 8th day of October 1843. Ireland is

notoriously, by position and by imaginary grievances--grievances which,

had they ever been real for past generations, would long since have faded

away, were it not through the labours of mercenary traders in treason--

Ireland is of necessity, and at any rate, the vulnerable part of our

empire. Wars will soon gather again in Christendom. Whilst it is yet

daylight and fair weather in which we can work, this open wound of the

empire must be healed. We cannot afford to stand another era of collusion

from abroad with intestine war. Now is the time for grasping this nettle

of domestic danger, and, by crushing it without fear, to crush it for ever.

Therefore it is that we rejoice to hear of attention in the right quarter

at length drawn to the _radix_ of all this evil; of efforts seriously made

to grapple with the mischief; not by mere accumulation of troops, for

_that_ is a spasmodic effort--sure to relax on the return of tranquillity;

but by those appliances of military art to the system of attack and

defence as connected with the soil and buildings of Ireland, which will

hereafter make it possible for even a diminished army to become all potent

over disaffection, by means of permanent preparations, and through

systematic links of concert.

_Fifthly_ comes Mr Stuart Wortley, the Parliamentary representative for

Bute, who tells his constituents at Bute, that the true secret of the

apparent incoherency in the conduct of Government, of that subsultory

movement from almost passive _surveillance_ to the most intense

development of power, is to be found in some error, some lapse as yet

unknown, on the part of the conspirators. Hitherto Mr Wortley, as lawyer,

had persuaded himself that the craft of sedition had prevailed over its

zeal. Whatever might be the _animus_ of the parties, hitherto their legal

adroitness had kept them on the right side of the fence which parts the

merely virulent or wicked language from the indictable. But security, and

apparently the indifference of the Government, had tempted them beyond

their safeguards. Government, it is certain, have latterly watched the

proceedings of the Repeal Association in a more official way; they have

sent qualified and vigilant reporters to the scene; and have showed signs

of meaning speedily "to do business" upon a large scale. We do not, indeed,

altogether agree with Mr Wortley, that the earlier language, if searched

with equal care, would be found less offending than the later; but this

later we believe it to be which, as an audacious reiteration of sentiments

that would have been overlooked had they seemed casual or not meant for

continued inculcation, will be found in fact to have provoked the

executive energies. We believe also, in accord with Mr Wortley, that

something or other has transpired by secret information to Government in

relation to this last intended meeting at Clontarf, which authorized a

separate and more sinister construction of _that_, or of its consequences,

than had necessarily attended the former assemblies, however similar in

bad meaning and in malice. This secret information, whether it pointed to

words uttered, to acts done, or to intentions signified, must have been

sudden, and must have been decisive; an impression which we draw from the

hurried summoning of cabinet councils in England on or about the 4th of

October, from the departures for Ireland, apparently consequent upon these

councils--of the Lord Lieutenant, of the Chancellor, and other great

officers, all instant and all simultaneous--and finally, from the

continued consultations in Dublin from the time when these functionaries

arrived; viz. immediately after their landing on Friday morning, October

6th, until the promulgation and enforcement of that memorable proclamation

which crushed the Repeal sedition. A Paris journal of eminence says, that

we are not to exult as if much progress were made towards the crushing of

Repeal, simply by the act of crushing a single meeting; and, strange to

say, the chief morning paper of London echoes this erroneous judgment as

if self-evident, saying, that "it needs no ghost to tell us _that_." We,

however, utterly deny this comment, and protest against it as an absurdity.

Were _that_ true, were it possible that the Clontarf meeting had been

suppressed on its own separate merits, as presumed from secret information,

and without ulterior meaning or application designed for the act--in that

case nothing has been done. But this is not so: Government is bound

henceforwards by its own act. That proclamation as to one meeting

establishes a precedent as to all. It is not within the _power_ of

Government, having done that act of suppression, and still more having

spoken that language of proclamation, now to retreat from their own rule,

and to apply any other rule to any subsequent meeting. The act of

suppression was enough. The commentary on the proclamation is more than

enough. Therefore it is, that we began by saying "the game is up;" and,

because it is of consequence to know the principle on which any act is

done, therefore it is that we have discussed, at some length, the various

hypotheses now current as to the particular principle which, in this

instance, governed our Executive. Our own opinion is, that all these

hypotheses, except the first, which ascribes blank inconsistency to the

Government, and so much of the second as stands upon some fanciful

limitation of time within which Government could not equitably proceed to

action, are partially true. If this be so, there is an answer in full to

the Whigs, who at this moment (October 23) are arguing that no

circumstances of any kind have changed since our ministers treated the

Repeal cause with neglect. Neglect it, comparatively, they never did: as

the cashiering of magistrates ought too angrily to remind the Whigs. But

if the different solutions, which we have here examined, should be

carefully reviewed, it will be seen that circumstances _have_ changed, and,

under the fourth head, it will be seen that they have changed in a way

which required time, selection, and great efforts: what is more, it will

be seen that they have changed in a way critically important for the

future interests of the empire.

Yes; the game is up! And what now remains is, not to suffer the coming

trials to sink into fictions of law--as a _brutum fulmen_ of menace, never

meant to be realized. Verdicts must be had: judgments must be given: and

then a long farewell to the hopes of treason!

Yes, by a double proof the Repeal sedition is at an end: were it not, upon

Clontarf being prohibited, the Repealers would have announced some other

gathering in some other place. You that say it is _not_ at an end, tell us

why did they forbear doing _that_? Secondly, Mr O'Connell has substituted

for Repeal--what? The miserable, the beggarly petition, for a dependent

House of Assembly, an upper sort of "Select Vestry," for Ireland; and

_that_ too as a _bonus_ from the Parliament of the empire. This reminds us

of a capital story related by Mr Webster, and perhaps within the

experience of American statesmen, in reference to the claims of electors

upon those candidates whom they have returned to Congress. Such a

candidate, having succeeded so far as even to become a Secretary for

Foreign Affairs, was one day waited on by a man, who reminded him that

some part of this eminent success had been due to _his_ vote; and really--

Mr Secretary might think as he pleased--but _him_ it struck, that a

"pretty considerable of a debt" was owing in gratitude to his particular

exertions. Mr Secretary bowed. The stranger proceeded--"His ambition was

moderate: might he look for the office of postmaster-general?"

Unfortunately, said the secretary, that office required special experience,

and it was at present filled to the satisfaction of the President. "Indeed!

_that_ was unhappy: but he was not particular; perhaps the ambassador to

London had not yet been appointed?" There, said the secretary, you are

still more unfortunate: the appointment was open until 11 P.M. on this

very day, and at that hour it was filled up. "Well," said the excellent

and Christian supplicant, "any thing whatever for me; beggars must not be

choosers: possibly the office of vice-president might soon be vacant; it

was said that the present man lay shockingly ill." Not at all; he was

rapidly recovering; and the reversion, even if he should die, required

enormous interest, for which a canvass had long since commenced on the

part of fifty-three candidates. Thus proceeded the assault upon the

secretary, and thus was it evaded. So moved the chase, and thus retreated

the game, until at length nothing under heaven remained amongst all

official prizes which the voter could ask, or which the secretary could

refuse. Pensively the visitor reflected for a few minutes, and, suddenly

raising his eye doubtfully, he said, "Why then, Mr Secretary, have you

ever an old black coat that you could give me?" Oh, aspiring genius of

ambition! from that topmast round of thy aerial ladder that a man should

descend thus awfully!--from the office of vice-president for the U.S. that

he should drop, within three minutes, to "an old black coat!" The

secretary was aghast: he rang the bell for such a coat; the coat appeared;

the martyr of ambition was solemnly inducted into its sleeves; and the two

parties, equally happy at the sudden issue of the interview bowing

profoundly to each other, separated for ever.

Even upon this model, sinking from a regal honour to an old black coat, Mr

O' Connell has actually agreed to accept--has volunteered to accept--for

the name and rank of a separate nation, some trivial right of holding

county meetings for local purposes of bridges, roads, turnpike gates. This

privilege he calls by the name of "federalism;" a misnomer, it is true;

but, were it the right name, names cannot change realities. These local

committees could not possibly take rank above the Quarter Sessions; nor

could they find much business to do which is not already done, and better

done, by that respectable judicial body. True it is, that this descent is

a thousand times more for the benefit of Ireland than his former ambitious

plan. But we speak of it with reference to the sinking scale of his

ambition. Now this it is--viz. the aspiring character of his former

promises, the assurance that he would raise Ireland into a nation distinct

and independent in the system of Europe, having her own fleets, armies,

peerage, parliament--which operated upon the enthusiasm of a peasantry the

vainest in Christendom after that of France, and perhaps absolutely the

most ignorant. Is it in human nature, we demand, that hereafter the same

enthusiasm should continue available for Mr O'Connell's service, after the

transient reaction of spitefulness to the Government shall have subsided,

which gave buoyancy to his ancient treason? The chair of a proconsul, the

saddle of a pasha--these are golden baits; yet these are below the throne

and diadem of a sovereign prince. But from these to have descended into

asking for "an old black coat," on the American precedent! Faugh! What

remains for Ireland but infinite disgust, for us but infinite laughter?

No, no. By Mr O'Connell's own act and capitulation, the game is up.

Government has countersigned this result by the implicit pledge in their

proclamation, that, having put down Clontarf, for specific reasons there

assigned, they will put down all future meetings to which the same reasons

apply. At present it remains only to express our fervent hope, that

ministers will drive "home" the nail which they have so happily planted.

The worst spectacle of our times was on that day when Mr O'Connell,

solemnly reprimanded by the Speaker of the House of Commons, was

suffered--was tolerated--in rising to reply; in retorting with insolence;

in lecturing and reprimanding the Senate through their representative

officer; in repelling just scorn by false scorn; in riveting his past

offences; in adding contumely to wrong. Never more must this be repeated.

Neither must the Whig policy be repeated of bringing Mr O'Connell before a

tribunal of justice that had, by a secret intrigue, agreed to lay aside

its terrors.[31] No compromise now: no juggling: no collusion! We desire

to see the majesty of the law vindicated, as solemnly as it has been

notoriously insulted. Such is the demand, such the united cry, of this

great nation, so long and so infamously bearded. Then, and thus only,

justice will be satisfied, reparation will be made: because it will go

abroad into all lands, not only that the evil has been redressed, but that

the author of the evil has been forced into a plenary atonement.

[31] The allusion is to Mr O'Connell's _past_ experience as a

defendant, on political offences, here the Court of Queen's Bench

in Dublin; an experience which most people have forgotten; and

which we also at this moment should be glad to forget as the

ominous precedent for the present crisis, were it not that

Conservative honesty and Conservative energy were now at the helm,

instead of the Whig spirit of intrigue with all public enemies.

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_Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne and Hughes, Paul's Work._

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