SAGENA.

Pliny mentions the _Sagena_, under the name of Saracenic millet, as a

thing which came from India, and was first brought into Italy in his

own time. Herodotus speaks of its cultivation by the Babylonians. The

Saracens used it in the fourteenth century for making bread, as do the

Lucchese to this day; it is, however, lightly esteemed, and not used

at all when other corn abounds, but thrown into the hencoop to fatten

poultry. It is a beautiful thing to see the high jungle of this most

elastic plant bending to the breeze, and displaying, as it moves, its

beaded top, looking at a distance like so many flowers; but, when seen

nearer, exhibiting _racemes_ (on highly polished stems) of small

pedunculated berries, in mitre-looking capsules. When the seed has

been shaken from the plant, the tops are brought together, and form

those excellent besoms which, throughout southern Europe, supply the

place of birch-broom, than which they are more elastic, not so

brittle, and much cleaner. The ultimate fibrils of this plant are

sometimes sold in little bundles for the purpose of being slit, and

receiving the small Neapolitan firework called _gera foletti_, which

scintillates like a fire-fly. Other kinds of millet and pannick are

also grown here; care being taken to plant them far from the vine and

mulberry, as they make considerable demands on the soil. Rice is said

to have constituted the sole aliment of the republicans of early Rome,

and it is still largely cultivated in many parts of Italy. In the

low-land about Viareggio, it monopolizes the ground almost as much as

the Grand Turk in the more interior parts of the country.

LUPINS

Lupins are largely cultivated, both for their own intrinsic value, and

to induce the growth of other plants. "We are bitter," say the Lupins

in an Italian work on agriculture; "but we enrich the earth which

lacks other manure, and by our bitterness kill those insects which, if

not destroyed, would destroy our successors in the soil. You owe much,

O husbandmen! to us Lupins."

HEMP.

Invaluable plant--pride of intelligent agriculture--that tendest thine

own fibre--and strength to him that rightly cultivates thee--and

constitutest the greatest element of mechanical power! What does not

England--the world itself--owe to that growth which we now

contemplate! Armies are encamped within thy walls--thou towest forth

the ship of discovery on her venturous way, and carriest man and his

merchandise to the Equator and to the Pole! Vain were the auspicious

breeze unless it blew upon thy opening sails; and what were the

sheet-anchor, but for that cable of thine which connects it with the

ship. Vegetable iron! incomparable hemp! Extemporaneous memory can

scarcely follow thy services. Talk of the battering-ram--but what

propelled it forward? The shot, whizzing in the teeth of adverse

winds, carries thy _coil_ to snatch the sailor from the rock where he

stands helpless and beyond aid from all the powers or productions of

man and nature but thine! Thy ladder, and thine alone, can rescue from

the house on fire! Look at the fisheries all over the world--the

herrings of Scotland and the cod of the Baltic might defy us but for

thee. What were wells and windlasses without thee? useless as

corkscrews to empty bottles. Thou art the strong arm of the pulley and

the crane. Gravitation itself, that universal tyrant, had bound all

things to the earth but for thy opposition. The scaffolds were thine

from which grew the _Colosseum_, and the Pyramids have arisen in thine

arms. The kite of science, which went cruising among thunder-clouds to

bring down to a modern Prometheus the spark which ignites the storm,

was held by fibres of thine. The _diver_ and the _miner_ cling to thee

for safety, and they that hunt the wild-bird's egg on the sea-shaken

cliff, as they swing over the frightful abyss. With the lasso the bold

Matador, like the _Retiarius_ of the ancient arena, makes the cast

that is for life. Then the fine arts!--Carrara sends her block for the

Laocoon by aid of thine; and what were all the galleries in Europe but

a collection of gilt frames, but for thy backing and support. By thy

subserviency alone (for what were _panel_ or _laminated copper_ for

such gigantic works?) did Raffaelle bequeath so many legacies of his

immortal genius. It is the strength of thy fibres that is the strength

of the loaded supper-tables of Paul Veronese; and the velvets, the

furs, the satins of Titian and Vandyke, are quilted upon thee. Nor

disdainest thou to render to man, who bruises thee to try thy virtue,

a thousand humbler services. Thou preservest our horses from flies,

our fruit from birds; and who has not felt how thou cheerest the weary

length of continental travelling, by the crack of thy whipcord at the

approach of a new relay?

Here our friend _Anamnesis_ seemed fatigued, as if he thought he had

spun a sufficiently _long yarn_ on the subject; so we prevailed on him

to prosecute the walk, as evening was beginning to close in--not,

indeed, without apprehension that he would make a stand at several

other interesting plants on which it might suit him to prelect!

Hemp, when cut, is left to dry for a week; it is then immersed for an

other week in water; after which it is flayed of its skin--a process

which is conducted either by the hand, leaving the stem in this case

entire; or by subjecting the whole plant to a bruising process,

conducted by a machine.

Besides the above-mentioned grain, the ground produces plenty of

vegetables, but of an inferior quality, as are all Italian fruits, and

most of the leguminous productions also, from want of care. Even as to

flowers, you would find it difficult to make up a bouquet, unless of

ferns, which here abound. The only cultivated flower, except a few

dahlias and sunflowers, are the yellow petals of the lucchini, a kind

of vegetable marrow, which creeps and creeps till its twisted tendrils

and broad leaves occupy, by continual encroachment, the whole field

where they germinate. Besides the _fruit_ of this plant, which we

begin to be supplied with about August, its young leaf and stalk are

boiled like kail for common greens; and its yellow flower, a little

later, makes a _frittura_, which is in request. Fruits are plentiful,

and some of them good; but, for the greater part, of a very inferior

quality. Strawberries, and particularly raspberries, (_lamponi_,) are

found throughout the season; which, commencing with these, and a

scanty supply of currants and gooseberries, (the latter very poor

indeed, and the first quite inferior to our own,) brings us fine figs

of many species and in vast quantities. Apples and pears have their

kinds, and many distinctive names, but are without flavour. The great

supply of the raspberry and small Alpine strawberry is about midsummer

The next-door-hood of all the _Scotch_ families is now fragrant, "on

all lawful days," with the odour of boiling down fruit for jams and

marmalades for winter consumption. As autumn comes on, heaps of

watermelons, piled like cannon-balls under the chestnut-trees, display

their promising purple flesh, and look cooling and desirable, but are

not to be attempted twice under penalty of gastric inconvenience.

Plums and nuts abound, and are followed by a second course of hard,

unripe, and tasteless nectarines and peaches. The season is closing

fast, for the prickly pods of the ripening chestnut now begin to gape,

and the indifferent grapes of the district attain their imperfect

maturity, and are gathered for the wine-press. September is in its

last week, and in less than another month we must all migrate

somewhere for the winter. The baths, on the 15th of October, are quite

empty.

TREES.

A good walnut-tree is as good to a poor man as a milk-cow. "I would

not sell either of those walnut-trees in my garden for thirty scudi

a-piece," said a peasant to us; and, observing that we looked as if we

would not like to tempt him, asked us if we had seen the large

walnut-tree of _Teraglia_, (we had, and had _pic-nicked_ very nearly

under it,) "because," added he, "the proprietor of _that_ tree refused

sixty _scudi_ for it last week, _e ha ragione_, for it is a nonpareil.

A good tree like those in my garden yields me eight _sacks of shelled

fruit_ on an average every year; and a sack of walnuts fetches from a

scudo to ten pauls (four shillings and sixpence) in the market. So

that my trees, between them, bring me in one hundred and sixty pauls

(_i.e._ L4 English) every year." Indeed! and the chestnut-trees

opposite? Oh! in this land of chestnut-trees we don't pay _prezzi

d'affezione_ for them--a good tree standing in the _plain_ may cost

about eight or ten scudi, and may yield about four sacks of shelled

fruit in a good year; but it is a capricious tree even in the _plain_;

while those on the _mountain_, the roots of which derive a precarious

subsistence from the uncertain soil, are liable to be blown down, and

are made pollards of at an early age to prevent this mishap; also,

they are frequently burned down by bonfires kindled under them to

destroy the furze. The chestnut shoot is only four years old before it

begins to bear. Three pounds of fresh chestnuts fetch about one

penny--_dried_, or in flour, about double that price. The peasants

bake a little cake of the chestnut flour called "_netche_," about the

thickness of a crimpet, and having much the flavour and appearance of

potato scones. This paste they bake between two hot stones, with a

couple of the leaves of the chestnut (dried for the purpose by the

peasants) interposed. The baking takes scarcely a minute, and the

cakes are then piled and packed, and sent far and wide. The arms and

the tops of the chestnuts are made into charcoal, so that no part of

this important tree is lost. We are here in the very midst of forests

of chestnut only--far as the eye can reach in every direction, and as

far as vegetation will go up every mountain side, its grateful green

forms a pleasing contrast to those gloomy frequenters and favourites

of the mountain, the sombre pine and dusky olive.

Several fine-sized olive-trees were shown to us for sale, and said to

be good fruit-bearers, (no olive bears fruit under ten years,) for

twenty-five scudi per tree. These trees were computed to yield about

two and a quarter to three sacks of berries; whereof every sack

yielded a profit of three scudi for one hundred to one hundred and ten

pounds of oil, which represents about the quantity generally

expressed. In retail, Lucca oil, at the present moment, is about one

paul, and olives about three farthings per pound.

OAKS.

We observe three kinds of oaks which here both flourish and abound.

The _Farnia_, the _Querci_, and the _Leccio_--the last evidently a

corruption of Ilex. The first kind grows with amazing rapidity; in

twenty years it is a head and shoulders above all the other trees

which began life with it. It has very long acorns, which are less

astringent than those of either of the other trees, and very much

preferred by pigs. A common oak felled for ship timber costs, where it

stands, from ten to fourteen scudi, and they are in great request for

the Leghorn market.

INSECTS.

Insects do not greatly abound in the neighbourhood about Lucca. Even

the mosquito winds his horn less frequently in our valley, than his

universality elsewhere would lead you to expect. Our beds are free

from bugs, and fleas are not very troublesome. Of the out-of-doors

insects, those which live upon the vegetable kingdom are not very

numerous, nor of much variety. The _Cassida_, who rejoices in lettuce,

brings up his family in other districts where the lettuce abounds.

Wanting the tamarisk, we miss our little _Curculio_, who thrives upon

its leaves; and the _Bruchus pisi_, for want of peas, is frequently

caught in the bean-tops. But the republican armies of ants are

immense, and the realm of bees is uncircumscribed; as no birds of

prey, neither the audacious robin, nor the woodpecker, tapping away on

the hollow beech-tree, diminish their hordes. But if the fowls of the

air be few, the nets of entomologists abound. _Slaters_ of an immense

kind, and spotted, and small mahogany-coloured _Blattidae_, are found

under stones, which also conceal hordes of predatory _beetles_ and

_scorpions_, which bristle up at you as you expose them; and nests of

tiny _snakes_, that coil and cuddle together, from the size of

crowquills to the thickness of the little finger. During June and

July, the monotonous _Cicadae_ spring their rattles in the trees

around, and one comes at last even to like their note, in spite of its

sameness. A little later, flies and wasps send their buzzing progeny

into our dining-rooms, to tease us over our dessert, like troublesome

children: at the same period, some of the larger families of

_Longicorns_ abound, and one of them, _Hamaticherus moschatus_, musks

your finger if you lay hold of him. In the July and August evenings,

fire-flies scintillate on a thousand points around you, and swarm

along the hedges, lighting each other to bed, till about midnight,

which is their curfew; for you seldom meet one of these

lantern-bearers later, though you may still, in returning from a late

party, be stopped with momentary admiration at beholding a magnificent

glow-worm burning her tail away at a great rate, and lighting up some

dark recess unvisited by star or moon, herself a star, and giving

sufficient light to enable you to read the small print of a newspaper

a foot off! But who shall attempt to describe his first acquaintance

with the fire-fly! We have seen birthday illuminations in London and

in Paris; we have seen the cupola of St Peter's start into pale yellow

light, as the deepening shadows of night shrouded all things around;

we have seen the Corso, on _Moccoletti_ night, a long fluctuating line

of ever renewed light, from the street to the fourth story--an

illumination _sui generis_, and "beautiful exceedingly;" but noise and

confusion are around all these as you approach them. But, oh! to

plunge suddenly into an atmosphere filled with _Lucciole_ in the quiet

gloaming of an Italian sky, amidst the olive groves and plantations of

Indian corn, with no noise but the drowsy hum of the huge _stag

beetle_, (the only patrole of the district,) or the yet fainter sounds

of frogs complaining to each other of the sultriness of the night, or

the monotonous hymn, at the peasant's door, addressed to the Virgin!

Your first impression is unmixed delight--your next, a wish probably

that you could introduce the fire-fly into England. Could one empty a

few hatfuls along Pall-Mall or Bond Street, on opera nights, what an

amazement would seize the people! We swept them up into the crown of

our hat, and could not get enough of them; then we set them flying

about our room, putting out the lights and shutting the shutters; and

then we caught them, and began to look more closely at the sources of

our delight, and to examine the acts and deeds of these wonderful

little creatures. As to the light itself, we soon perceived that, in

reality, the fire-fly emitted it from _two sources_; for, besides his

_steady_ light, which never varied, there came, we saw, at intervals,

flicks or sparks of far greater brilliancy, like the revolving light

of the beacon on the sea-shore, only that the light here was never

wholly eclipsed, but merely much abated. We soon perceived, too, that

those sudden jets of light came and went at vastly IRREGULAR

intervals; sometimes in very quick succession, sometimes less

frequently--from which observation, we concluded that this

dispensation of his rich endowment did not proceed from any motion of

the _fluids_ in the animal economy, analogous to our own

circulation--it being far too irregular and inconstant to depend on

any such regulated movement. On removing the head of a _Lucciola_,

this intermitting light _immediately_ ceased; but the other--the

permanent, steady, and equable light--remained unchanged, and was not

extinguished for from _sixty to seventy hours after the death of the

insect_, unless the body was immersed in oil or alcohol, which

extinguished it presently. We found, that though oil and alcohol

quickly extinguished the light, it became suddenly much brighter when

fading, by plunging the insect into hot water; but we did not find

that it could be restored when it had once _entirely_ ceased, by this

or any other means, as some French naturalists have affirmed; and as

to its exploding a jar of hydrogen, as others have written, we

disbelieve it, because the temperature of the insect is far too low.

We think, then, for the present, that there are two distinct

repositories, or two different sources, of light in the fire-fly; and

that while _one_ depends on the _head_, and is a strictly _vital

phenomenon_, the other is altogether independent of any physiological

law of the nervous or circulating system.

* * * * *

We have a great respect for _ants_; but we do not go the length of

some of their historians, or believe them to be, any more than

ourselves, _infallible_. We have seen a laborious ant (_magni Formica

laboris_) tugging a snail-shell (for some reason only known to

himself) up a hill, stopping to take breath, and going cheerily to

work again till he had nearly accomplished his ascent, and found

himself on the very edge of its summit. Here he has been surrounded by

friends, officious busy-bodies, who, _intending_ no doubt to help him,

have got _into_ the shell, in place of lending him a hand, till their

added load was too much, and the unfortunate ant has been obliged to

loose its hold and let them go, shell and all! Then off they would

send, very much frightened no doubt at the overturn; while he, having

remained stationary a moment as if to watch its results, takes his

resolution, and proceeds on his journey without his load. In brushing

the grass for insects, we have constantly found that the ants, _with

their mouths full_, fight with each other, or with their brother

captives, and are quite unaware of their bondage. For while most other

insects, on opening the net, are glad to escape by flying or leaping,

these will remain as if to secure their booty, and turn even

misfortunes to account. Often have we watched their battles, which are

battles indeed!--battles, in which every man of them seems to think

the day depends on his own courage and activity. We have never been

able to make out which were the best battalions of these variously

coloured troops; for all of them fight to the death, and _show no

quarter_. We have seen on some large tree the ants running up and

down, and picking off individual enemies from a horde of smaller kind

and reddish colour below. We have occasionally knocked off one or two

of the giants, who, falling alive into the midst of their enemies,

were surrounded, spread-eagled, trampled upon, and either lacerated to

death, or killed by their own _formic acid_, in a very short space of

time indeed. We have seen all this and marvelled; but we were never

sufficiently in the confidence of either the invaders or the invaded

to know their motives for fighting. It could not be for territory, for

they had all the world before them; it could not be for food, for they

were full.

We never could make out why flies seem _fond of walking over dead

spiders_; for we will not impute to them our unworthy feelings of

enduring hatred and hostility. That insects had no brains in their

heads to direct and guide their progressive movements, or form focuses

for their passions, had long ago to us been plain. Besides all that we

once committed ourselves by writing on the subject, we have done many

other cruel things; such as dividing insects, (whether at the union of

the head with corselet, or of the corselet with the abdomen,) and we

have found that the segments to which the members were articulated

carried on their functions _without the head_. The Elytra would open

the wings, and the legs would move, as by association they had moved

in the perfect insect. The guidance of the head was destroyed, yet the

legs pushed the abdomen and corselet on; so that a disapproving friend

had to _divide_ his sympathy, and to _feel for each of the pieces_.

And what appeared to us worthy of remark was, that whereas, when a

snake was decollated, it was only the tail that continued to

wriggle--when a _worm_ was divided, _all_ the segments writhed in the

same way, and manifested an equal irritability; showing the difference

between creatures of annulated structure, according as they have or

have not a _brain_. A new argument against the brain as the organ of

sensation, was afforded to us by the conduct of many insects of

voracious propensities. We took _locusts_ and _grilli_; we held them

by their wings, and we presented them _with their own legs_ for

dinner; and on our veracity we can affirm, that on no single occasion

did the animal fail to seize his foot; and having demolished the toes

and the tibia, with all the meat upon it, proceed to demolish up to

the very end of the _trochanter_! Nor were they more tender of their

own _antennae_, of which, when we had duly convinced a sceptical

friend, he exclaimed--It _seems impossible_; but _there is no doubting

the fact_!

Insects (who would have thought it?) lose a great deal by insensible

transpiration; from one-tenth to one-quarter of their whole weight, as

we have abundantly ascertained by series of experiments, for which we

have the tables to show. A very interesting fact respecting the

difference of irritability of insects from that of the higher animals,

is this: the temperature of man and the mammalia is in health always

the same, and varies very inconsiderably in disease. _External_ heat

and _external_ cold do not produce a blood, in man, warmer at the

equator than at the pole. This is not the case with insects, whose

mean temperature may be about 80 deg.; but the thermometer inserted into

their bodies may be made to _rise_ or _fall_ by bringing any cold or

warm body in contact with their external surface. You may thus sink

the temperature of an insect to 50 deg. or raise it to 100 deg., and the

insect continue alive. This is a very curious fact, and shows the

inaccuracy of Hunter's description or definition of _life_--"That it

was _that_ which _resisted_ the physical agency of cold and heat."

Insectorum duorum (e genere Cantharidum) in coitu deprehensorum,

extincto a nobis uno, alterum per dies plures, nullo alio quam

organorum sexus vinculo sibi adstrictum, amicae suae corpus sursum et

deorsum trahentem, mirantes vidimus!--_Spanish_ flies, you

exclaim!--as if he had not taken a dose of his own powder; but after

the joke is over, we think this is another _poser_ for the advocates

of insect intelligence. We found that if either of two insects was

destroyed in coition, that state was not interrupted for two or three

days. The insects on which are observed this remarkable circumstance,

were the _Cantharis oclemero_, and some others. Spanish flies, you

will say? That accounts for it; but at present we are not mystifying

our indulgent readers.

SHOOTING FISH.

Long before the middle of September we are frequently startled, before

we have proceeded a hundred yards, by the popping of guns amongst the

vineyards and chestnut woods, but more frequently in the direction of

the stream that winds along our valley--and the sight of one or two of

the chasseurs on the road may well surprise any not accustomed to the

sports of the Lucchese.--Here are two of them, each with a gun on his

shoulder, coming up the stream. One has shot three four-ounce dace,

which dangle by his side; the other has a bag full of _small fry_,

shot as they frisked about in shoals near the water's edge! an ounce

of _sand_ exploded to receive about the same amount of fish! The man

who has shot the dace is proud of his exploit, and keeps turning them

round and round to gauge their dimensions, as if they were partridges!

Don't think, however, they have killed off all the fish of the stream.

Besides that string of four-ounce dace, we have every now and then a

sample of barbel and trout. One man has purchased the monopoly of the

fishery within two miles, and for which he pays twelve crowns by the

year. He sells his trout at two, and two and a half, pauls per pound,

and we should have thought that he made a good thing of it; but they

lose their fish: the torrents come and empty the holes, and they have

nothing for it but to stock them again--an event which, he assured me,

frequently took place. Besides, fly-rods and flies have been

introduced by an English shopkeeper, and there is no legal provision

against them.

OWLS.

There comes a man with an owl in a basket and another tied by the leg

on a pole covered with red cloth; another accompanies him with a

bundle of reeds, through which a rod runs, smeared all the way down

with birdlime. This apparatus he disposes on a hedge or cover of any

kind--the little owl (_Civetta_) sits opposite on his pole--the birds

come to tease him, and fly on the birdlime twig, when, if it be a

sparrow, he is effectually detained by the viscus only--if a

blackbird, pop at him goes an old rusty gun. "We sometimes catch

twenty tomtits before breakfast," said a modest-looking sportsman,

modestly, but not shamefacedly, showing us one thrush and one linnet.

An image-man told me to-day, that after the trade for classical

models--Apollos and Venuses--had gone out, and nobody would buy, _Tam

o' Shanter_ and _Souter Johnny_ operated a good _revival_ of the fine

arts for several months. How much, then, the models from the antique,

do towards improving our taste! and how absurd to set up institutions

with the expectation of making the populace other than the gross,

unideal, matter-of-fact thing it is, and always was, no doubt, even in

Athens itself!

THE IMPROVISATORE.

We heard one of these monsters last night. The arena for his

exhibition might, but for the known liberality of society, be thought

objectionable--being none other than the English place of worship. But

_tout est sain aux sains_--or _aux saints_, if you please. Charity

covereth many sins; and if there be a place upon earth where charity

reigns, it is at what you call _watering-places_. Pindar was right,

[Greek: ariston men hudoz]. If we were enquired of, and propitiated

by a fee, as to the effects of the waters here, we should give it as

our opinion that they act directly on the _picrochole_, or bitter

principle of bile, and carry it, soft as milk, through the duodenal

passages. Our Improvisatore has, we understand, been six times

_painted_, (we know not what saloons are so fortunate as to possess

his portrait,) but we believe he has not been described. When we saw

him, his hair danced wildly over his shoulders, as if electrified: he

had a quick eye, and wore enviably well-fitting ducks: his neck,

besides supporting his head and all its contents, supported an

inextricable labyrinth of gold chains; from every buttonhole of his

waistcoat the chains they came in, and the chains they came out, like

the peripatetic man on the Boulevards who sells them: his gloves,

well-fitting, and buttoning at the wrist, were of the whitest kid, and

grasped a yet whiter and highly-scented cambric: his boots shone

bright with varnish, and his face with self-complacency. As the room

filled, he went round, giving the girls permission to write _subjects_

on bits of waste (wasted!) paper, which set them _thinking_ at a great

rate. Presently, a second circuit round the room, to collect the

orders payable at sight--a title such as the _Lucciola_, _Italia_,

_The Exile_, _Woman's Love_, _Man's Ingratitude_; after which he

proceeds to fold up and puts them into a large glass vessel. Presently

a small hand, properly incited, dives down for a second into the

interior of the vase, and brings up, between two of its fair, round,

turquoise-encircled fingers, the scrap of paper. Its pretty owner

blushes, and timidly announces, "Bellini's Tomb;" _Bellini's Tomb_ is

buzzed about the room. At this juncture the Duke, who has been

_expected_, sends a messenger to announce that we are not to wait for

him--a sly fellow the Duke! The bard now concentrates himself for

inspiration, but begs us to talk on, and not mind him. While he waits

for the _afflatus divinus_, and consults the muses--and in fact his

eyes soon begin to betray _possession_--he passes his hand over his

parturient forehead, while the _os magno sonaturum_ is getting ready;

the labour-pains are evidently on him; he hurls back his hair, and

fixes his eyes upon the moon, (who has been looking at _him_ for

several minutes through the window opposite.) Full of her influence,

and not knowing there is such a place as Bedlam in the world, he

starts upon his legs, makes two or three rapid strides up and down the

room, like a lion taking exercise, or a lord of council and session in

Scotland preparing to pronounce sentence, and means to be delivered

(mercy on us!) exactly opposite our chair! All are attentive to the

godlike man; you might hear a pin drop: the subject is announced once

and again in a very audible voice; the touch-paper is ignited, the

magazine will blow up presently! Incontinently we are rapt off to

_Pere la Chaise_, where the great composer lies buried, and a form of

communication is made to us on this suitable spot, that Bellini is

_dead_; then comes, in episode, a catalogue of all the operas he ever

wrote, with allusions to each, and not a little vapouring and pathos,

while a host of heroes and heroines we never before heard of, is let

loose upon us; presently, a marked pause, and some by-play, makes it

evident that he sees something, and cannot see what the thing is; he

shortly, however, imparts to us in confidence, though in a very low

tone, for fear of disturbing it--he sees, he assures us, a female form

stealing to the young man's tomb--the form of a widowed lady--who is

she? _e la sua madre!_ This was startling, no doubt; though we, or

many of us, were like the cat in Florian, to whom the monkey was

showing a magic lantern _without a light_, and describing what she

ought to have seen. Believing her, however, to be there on such good

authority, we were getting very sorry for Bellini's mother, when we

were unexpectedly relieved, by finding it was only a bit of

make-believe; for it was now divulged, _che questa madre che piangea

il suo figlio_, was not in fact his personal mother, but "_Italy_"

dressed up _like_ his mother, and gone to Paris on purpose to weep and

put garlands on the composer's tomb, amaranth and crocus, and whatever

else was in season. Thunders of applause--we hope the new chapel is

insured!-for the _assiduo ruptae lectore columnae_ is as old as

earthquake in Italy. He now mopped his forehead, and prepared for a

new effort. The English girls are already in raptures, and their

Italian masters, sitting by, "ride on the whirlwind and direct the

storm." The next subject which destiny assigned to him, and inflicted

on us, was _The Exile_. A nicely manured field or common place to sow

and reap on--and what a harvest it yielded accordingly!--the dear

friends! the dear native hill! the honour of suffering for the truth!

(political martyrdom!) the mother that bore him--(and a good deal

besides)--his helpless children! (a proper number for the

occasion,)--all these fascinating themes were dwelt on, one by one,

till, moved apparently at our emotion, he dropt his menacing attitude,

and, mitigating his voice, assumed a resigned demeanour, of which many

of his audience had long since set him the example. He began to look

down mournfully, whereas he had a minute ago looked up fiercely--a

smile, to the relief of the young ladies, stole over his countenance,

and having thrice shaken his head to dispel whatever gloomy thoughts

might still be lingering there, he carried us to the Exile's return,

which brought of course the natal soil and a second service of the

mother, sire, and son, with the addition of a dog, a clump of trees, a

church, and a steeple. He compresses between his hands the yielding

cambric into a very small space, his body is fixed, his legs are

slightly apart, his head wags, like a wooden mandarin's, with thoughts

too big for utterance, till the moment arrives for the critical start,

then, "_Duplices tendens ad sidera palmas_," he becomes quite

Virgilian. The unfurled cambric flutters to the breeze of his own

creation, and coruscations of white kid and other white materials pass

and repass before our eyes. He gives vent to his emotions in tears,

after a reasonable indulgence in which, as he cannot (as Tilburina's

_confidante_ very properly observes) stay crying there all night, he

gradually comes right again. Besides all which, it is eight o'clock,

and he has still to _do_, and we to _suffer_, _Napoleon_--whose ashes

were just then being carried to Paris, as we had read in all the

papers of last week. Glad were we when they reached the _Octroi_, and

when the indulgent _Barriere_ passed them with all the honours of the

_Douane_. An old lady has twice yawned, and many would follow her

example, but that the performer fascinates his audience by staring at

them--like the boa at the poor bird in the wood--and frightens them to

their seats for a few minutes longer. At length one _resolute_ chair

moves; two others are out of the ranks; new centres of movement are

establishing; several shawls are seen advancing to the door. The rout

is complete, there will be no rally, and the efforts of the artist

have been _crowned_ (one hundred and fifty scudi) with success. We

meet him every where. He honours our table-d'hote daily, where he

stays an hour and a half to bait--after which we see him lounging in

the carriage of some fair _compatriote_ with herself and daughters. If

we are paying a morning visit, in he comes, "glissarding it" into the

drawing-room, and bowing like a dancing-master; nor does he disdain to

produce a small book of testimonials, in which the subscribers have

agreed to give him a poetic _character_, and compare him to a torrent,

to a nightingale, to an eagle, to an avalanche. They who love flattery

as a bee loves honey, are all captivated, and almost make love to him.

Their albums are rich in the spoils of his poetry, and she is happy

who, by her blandishment, can detain him in conversation for five

minutes. Yet they own they understand less than half of what he says.

Vexed with _one_ to whom we were talking, we thought rationally, for

permitting herself to be "so pestered by a popinjay,"--"He _is_ so

clever," was the reply; "such an odd creature, too. I wish you knew

him. He is in such a strange humour to-night. Do you know he tells me

he wishes to marry an English girl? See! he is gone into the balcony

yonder to look at the moon." To be sure he was. He came back looking

somewhat wild, and, walking in like a modern Prometheus, down he sits,

and the new inspiration is presently bespoken for the fly page of

virgin scrap-book. Smoothly flows the immortal verse, without care,

correction, or halt, for the lines are the result of power that works

unerringly, (Pope _blotted_ most disgracefully,) and goes right

_ahead_. The precious _morceau_ is concluded, and the improvisatore's

name appears in a constellation of zig-zags.

TABLES D'HOTES--MR SNAPLEY.

Did you never meet Mr Snapley?--Mr Snapley was the greatest of

bores--he bored holes in your self-complacency, and riddled your

patience through and through; to put up with him was hard, to put him

down was impossible, (your long tolerated nuisance of fifty is always

incorrigible.) His bore was surprising considering the smallness of

his calibre; like a meagre gimlet, he would drill a small hole in some

unimportant statement, and then gather up his _opima spolia_, and

march off to the sound of his own trumpet. For instance, on convicting

you of assigning a fine picture to a wrong church or gallery, he

denied all your pretensions to judge of the picture itself. He had a

reindeer's length of tongue, (how often did we wish it salted and

dried!) and the splutter of words it sent forth, took off, as often

happens, sufficient observation of the miserably small stock of ideas

that he had to work upon. He enjoyed, as we all do, the blameless

pleasure of dining out as often as he could; when, though he did not

consume all the provisions, he would willingly have taken possession

of the whole of the talk, (_that_ being his notion of a conversation.)

When one had to dine at the same table with him, one contrived to take

up a position as remote as possible from the interruption of his thin,

wiry, ill-modulated voice--the _false_ suavity of which in saying

impertinent things was really so disagreeable, that one would have

renounced the society of wit or beauty on the right hand, rather than

have been flanked by Mr Snapley on the _left_, and thankfully have

accepted the companionship, _pro hac vice_, of the plainest woman or

the dullest man of the party, to be only completely out of his reach.

Your _soup_ you _might_ take in peace, for he was at this time

studying the composition of the party, and the chances of endurance or

resistance inscribed on the countenance of the guests; but the moment

an opportunity occurred of correcting or cavilling with any of those

unprecise and generally unchallenged observations, the interruption of

which is at the cost of the quietness of the repast, Mr Snapley's

voice was heard! You were too glad, of course, to give up the trifling

point out of which he had raised a discussion; but the earliest

concession never saved you, nor did you ever afterwards escape the

consciousness that he was still hovering like a harpy over the

tablecloth, and ready to fall foul of you again. Let the subject be

what it might, you had only to make a remark in his presence, and

without his permission, to _insure_ its contradiction. "What a

needless annoyance in travelling it is for a family to be stopped by

douaniers, only to extort money for _not_ doing a duty which would be

absurd if _done_!" "Why, really I don't see that," &c. &c. "What a

plague it is to send your servant (a whole morning's work) from one

subaltern with a queer name, to another, for a lady's ticket to

witness any of the functions at the Sistine!" Well, it did appear to

him the simplest thing in the world; it was ten times more troublesome

to see any thing in London! "What a nuisance it is on quitting an

Italian city, to find the passport which has already given you so much

trouble only available for _three_ days, leaving you liable to be

stopped at the gate, if sickness or accident have made you transgress

even _by an hour_!" "Why, it is _your own fault_, it is _so easy_ to

get it _vised again_ overnight." All these impertinencies were only

[Greek: pidakos ex hieres olige libas]. Besides all this, Mr Snapley

was a miserable monopolizer of pompously advanced nothings. He would

not willingly suffer any other man's goose to feed upon the common--he

cared for nobody but himself, and every thing that was or he esteemed

to be _his_--his very joints were worked unlike those of another

man--he must have had a set of _adductors_ and _abductors_, of

_flexors_ and _extensors_, on purpose. He was stiff, priggish,

precise, when he addressed any gentleman with light hair and an

_English complexion_; but let him approach any foreign buttonhole with

a bit of riband in it, then worked he the muscles of his face into

most grotesque expression of interest or pleasure--(_Tunc immensa cavi

spirant mendacia folles!_)--and you had a famous display of grimace

and deferential civility, in bad French or worse Italian. We have seen

him sneering and leering as he made his way round a drawing-room at an

evening party, and bowing like a French perruquier to some absurd fool

of a foreigner; and we have seen him, a minute after, holding up his

head and cocking his chin in defiance, if an English voice approached.

When any of us ventured to criticise _any thing foreign_, he was up in

arms, and cock-a-hoop for the climate, the customs, the constitution!

He sneered awfully at a simple _gaucherie_, but, to make amends, had

ever an approving wink for the meanest _irreverence_; any intellect,

however feeble, being secure of his praise if it only tried to thwart

the end for which it was given. When not _talking_ about himself,

which was seldom, he was evidently _occupied_ about his _personel_,

with which he was obviously satisfied. If you talked of books, he

settled for you, in laconic sentences, works of acknowledged

merit--put down men of uncontested superiority--but women of title and

tainted reputation, if they would but ask him to their parties,

became at once his favourites and his oracles. He cunningly contrives

to get a good artist's opinion on works of art, and debits it as his

own--a proceeding which makes Mr Snapley _sometimes_ formidable in

sculpture and in painting. As to other topics, on which educated men

and accomplished women converse, he would fain be as profound as

_Locke_ with the one, and as gallant as _Fontenelle_ with the other.

For ourselves, who meet him but too often, we would as soon approach

without necessity a huxter's mongrel growling under his master's cart,

as venture near enough to examine all the small-wares of one who

"hates coxcombs," and is the very prince of fops; laughs at pedants,

and only wants a _little more learning_ to attempt the character; with

whom no repetition of familiar acts can reconcile you, and to whom no

number of dinners can conquer your repugnance.----_Did_ you ever meet

Mr Snapley? We are sure you must--the Snapleys are a very old

family--you may generally know them by the _nez retrousse_, (which our

acquaintance, however, had not.) We never knew but _one_ good-natured

man with a _nez retrousse_, and he was, if ever man was--a

philanthropist. Generally, however, _beware_ of the _nez retrousse_

except in women--you know its interpretation _chez elles_;--and if you

do, (on second thoughts,) still beware.

HINTS FOR DOCTORS.

_Esquilias_, dictumque petunt a _Vimine_ collem--JUV.

* * * "I observed a gentleman in black," said our informant, "who

seemed to fix me across the table-d'hote, at dinner, in a way which

soon showed me I was an object of interest to him. It was very odd! We

were not in Austria! I could not have offended the police--nor in

Spain, the Inquisition. If I _took_ of a particular dish, his eye was

on me again. They _did_ use to _poison_ people in Italy, but it was in

the fifteenth century, and all the Borgias were gone! What could it

mean? The very waiters seemed to watch the man in black, and signals

of intelligence seemed to pass between them as they went their rounds

with the dishes. After thus meeting the eye of the unknown at

intervals for more than an hour, when the table was beginning to

clear, I rose, and limped out of the room as well as my complaints

would let me, and was sauntering a few steps from the door, when judge

of my terror on turning round, to find him of the black coat at my

elbow! "In pain, sir, I see." All my alarm ceased in a moment. It was

pure philanthropy which had made me an object of so much interest.

"Yes, sir, in great pain." "_You should take care of yourself, sir._

Rheumatic, are you not?" "Very rheumatic." "Well, sir, you have come

to the best place in the world for rheumatism. The air, the water, and

proper treatment, will soon set you up." "Your report is encouraging;

but I have suffered too long to hope much." "Well, at any rate, sir,

let us not talk over your interesting case in this heat. Come and put

your feet up on a chair in my rooms, and we will drink a glass of

soda-water to your better health." What a kind-hearted man I had met

with, and how kind Providence is to us! I now ventured to ask him his

name. "My name is Dr ----; and now, my dear friend, just tell me your

whole case from the very beginning down to now, for I am really

interested in you." I told my case. "Put out your tongue." "Brown," we

thought we heard him say. "Wrist--pulse not amiss--but you _require

care, sir! you require care!_ Clear case for the medicine I gave so

successfully last week." Finding myself thus fallen into professional

hands _without intending it_, I said something introductory to the

mention of a fee. "True, I was _forgetting_ that; when one takes a

proper interest in one's case, and hopes to do good, fees are the last

thing one thinks of--two scudi if you please." So I found myself

immediately booked in a small memorandum-book, and constituted his

patient. Now came civil promises to introduce me, &c. &c. &c., and I

took my leave delighted. It is almost needless to say, that in a very

short time I found that my acquaintance had, like so many more,

commenced physician on the soil of Italy. What will become of London

if all her apothecaries desert her at this rate? For ourselves,

reflecting on the accomplishments of many of these patriotic men,

their learning, their modesty, their disinterestedness, we have often

had a twinge of the philanthropic extorted by the loss inflicted on

our native city--she may come to want a doze of julap, and have nobody

to mix it!--and have said to ourselves, as we have looked more than

one of these worthies in the face, [Greek: O alein Athenai, Pallados

th'orismata, Oion steresesth andros]!

One day after dinner a little bit of gold rolled over the table to the

doctor, from a bluff-looking gentleman opposite--it was well

aimed--"There, doctor! _there's your fee_; but don't you begin again

prating a parcel of stuff to my wife about her complaints--she is

quite well--and if you frighten her into illness, take notice, you

will get a different sort of fee next time!" All this, half joke, half

earnestly, must have been very agreeable to the guests."

PRIVATE MUSIC PARTY.

Let us try to describe the last musical party at which we assisted. A

scramble amid piles of unbound music; the right _cahier_ found,

snatched up, and opened at the well-thumbed solo with which she has

already contended for many a long hour, and now hopes to execute for

our applause. Alas! the piano sounds as if it had the pip; the

paralytic keys halt, and stammer, and tremble, or else run into each

other like ink upon blotting paper, and the pedals are the only part

of the instrument which do the work for which they were intended. We

should be sorry that our favourite dog had his paw between them and

the lady's slipper. The dust which succeeds the concerto proves

satisfactorily that it is possible to be frisky without being lively;

its vulgarity is so pronounced that it offends you like low

conversation. Another concerto follows--ten folio pages! whew!!----Oh,

ye ebony and ivory devils! oh, for an exorcist to put you to

flight! Cramped fingers are crossing each other at a great rate; we

really tremble for the glue, and the pegs, and the wires, and the

whole economy of the instrument, at that critical juncture when the

performers arrive at a piece of mysterious notation, where a great

many tadpole-looking figures are huddled together under a black

rainbow. At such a "passage" as this, it seems one would think the

house were on fire, and no time to be lost; the black mittens and the

white now _Rob-Royishly_ invade each other's territory; each snatches

up something and carries it off, like the old marauders of the Border

country; and reprisals are made, and lines of discord and dissonance

are establishing, which require the police, the magistrate, and the

riot act. Bravo! bravo! bravo! and the battle ceases, and the _babble_

commences. Place for the foreign train, the performers _par metier!_

Full of confidence are they; amidst all their smiles and

obsequiousness, there is a business air about the thing. As soon as

the pianist has asked the piano how it finds itself, and the piano has

intimated that it is pretty well, but somewhat out of tune, a

collateral fiddler and a violoncello brace up their respective nerves,

compare notes, and when their drawlings and crookings are in unison, a

third piece of music of indefinite duration, and as it seems to us all

about nothing, begins. Our violinist is evidently not long come out,

and has little to recommend him--he employs but a second-rate tailor,

wears no collar, dirty mustaches, and a tight coat; he is ill at ease,

poor man, wincing, pulling down his coat-sleeves, or pulling up his

braces over their respective shoulders. His strings soon become moist

with the finger dew of exertion and trepidation; his bow draws out

nothing but groans or squeals; and so, in order to correct these

visceral complaints, a piece of rosin is awkwardly produced from his

trousers' pocket, and applied to the rheumatic member, with some

half-dozen brisk rubs in a parenthesis of music. The effect is

painfully ludicrous!----

I am _sleepy_, _sleepy_, begins the piano! Sleepy, sleepy, _mews_ Mr

Violin--very, very, very sleepy, drones the drowsy four-stringed

leviathan. Oh, do try if you can't say something, something, something

to enliven one a bit! On this hint, the little violin first got

excited upon one string, and then upon another, and then the bow rode

a hand-gallop over two at once; then saw we four fingers flying as far

up the finger-board as they could go, without falling overboard, near

the _bridge_--a dangerous place at all times from the currents and

eddies--and there provoking a series of sounds, as if the performer

were pinching the tails of a dozen mice, that squeaked and squealed as

he made the experiment. The bow (like the funambulist with the soles

of his slippers fresh chalked) kept glancing on and off, till we hoped

he would be off altogether and break his neck; and now the least harsh

and grating of the cords snaps up in the fiddler's face, and a crude

one is to be applied; and now--but what is the use of pursuing the

description? Let us leave the old bass to snore away his lethargic

accompaniment for ten minutes more, and the affair will end. The

pianist, the Octavius of the triumvirs, thinks it necessary to excuse

Signor ----, telling us, "He has bad violin, he play like one angel on

good one"--but hisht, hisht! the evening-star is rising, and we are to

be repaid, they say, for all we have gone through! Signor * * * is going

to play. The _maestro_ advances with perfect consciousness of his own

powers; his gait is lounging, he does not mean to hurry himself, not

he--his power of abstraction (from the company) is perfect; he is

going to play in solitude before fifty people, and only for his own

amusement. He placed himself at least a foot from the piano, his knees

touching the board, his body rises perpendicularly from the

music-stool, his head turns for a moment to either shoulder as if he

were glancing at epaulettes thereon, and then he looks right ahead; he

neither has nor needs a book; with the wide-extended fingers of both

hands, down he pounces, like a falcon, on the sleeping keys, which,

caught by surprise, now speak out and exert all their energies. Those

keys, which a few minutes ago vibrated so feebly, and spoke so

inarticulately, now pour forth a continuous swell of the richest

melody and distinctest utterance. The little wooden parallelograms at

first seem to be keeping out of their ranks just to see what is going

on, till, the affair becoming warm, they can no longer stand it, but

grow excited and take part in the general action. Relying fully on the

perfect obedience of his light troops, and relaxing a little from his

erect attitude of command, he gently inclines his body to the left,

leads his disposable force rapidly upwards in that direction, where,

having surprised the post against which they were dispatched, he

recovers his swerve, and they retrace with equal precision and

rapidity their course from the wings to the centre.

Come, _this_ is playing! This is worth coming to; the instrument seems

but the organ of the man's own feelings; its mournful tones are only a

paraphrase of his sighs; its brilliant arabesques are but the playful

expression of his own delight with every thing and every body! His

cheek is warm, his eyes sparkle, his hands detonate thunder and

lightnings from the keys, and he concludes as suddenly as he began;

the very silence is felt, and the breathless guests, who have watched

the fingers and been rapt by the tones, now burst forth simultaneously

in expressions of delight and applause.

* * * * *

THE RAILWAYS.

We read, no later than yesterday, two very pungent leading articles in

the London daily journals, on the present all-absorbing subject of

railway speculation. Both writers are evidently well versed in the

details of the novel system; both possess some smattering of political

economy, sufficient at least to enable them to form a judgment; and

both consistent in their data and statistical information. Yet,

agreeing in these points, it is somewhat singular to find that the

_Coryphaei_ have arrived at diametrically opposite conclusions. One of

them is quite clear, that if the present railway _mania_ (as he calls

it) is permitted to go on unchecked for a short time further, the

country will not only be on the verge of bankruptcy, but a general

crash will be inevitable; that, vast as the resources of Britain

undoubtedly are, she cannot, by any exertion short of crippling her

staple commercial relations, furnish capital enough for the fulfilment

of a moiety of the schemes already announced, and thrown into the

public market; that the fact, which is incontestable, that a large

proportion of these shares were originally, and are presently, held by

parties who have no means of paying up the calls, but who are solely

speculating for the rise, must very soon produce a reaction, and that

such reaction will be of the absolute nature of a panic. Such are the

opinions of this writer, who is clearly of the restrictive school. He

holds, that the government is bound, in such a crisis as that which he

rather states than prophesies, to interfere at once with an arbitrary

order, and to prevent the issue of any new schemes until those already

before the public are either disposed of or exhausted.

How this is to be effected, the writer does not sufficiently explain.

He points to immediate interference, from which expression we are led

to believe he points at some such proceeding as an Order in Council,

to be pronounced during the recess of Parliament. If so, we may

dismiss this gentleman and his remedy in a very summary manner. Such

an Order in Council would be worse than useless, because it would be a

manifest breach of the constitution. As well might an Order be issued

to close our manufactories, to restrict the amount of any branch of

produce, or to prevent parties from forming themselves into companies

for the most blameless and legitimate purpose. It is a strange symptom

of the credulousness of the age, or rather of the ignorance of the

people in all matters relating to the science of government, that,

towards the close of September last, some such rumour was actually

circulated and believed, though its father was manifestly _a bear_,

and its birthplace the Stock Exchange. But if this merely is meant,

that there lies with the Imperial Parliament a controlling and

interferential power, and that the great estates of the realm may be

called upon to use it, we do not question the proposition. Whether,

however, it would be wise to use that power so sweepingly as the

journalist recommends, or whether, practically, it could be possible,

are very serious considerations indeed.

But the existence of any evil is denied _in toto_ by the other

journalist. In the crowded columns of the morning prints, driven to

supplement and even extra-supplement by the overwhelming mass of

railway advertisements, he can see no topic of alarm, but "matter for

high exultation, and almost boundless hope." His belief in

superabundance of capital, and its annual enormous increment, is fixed

and steadfast. He considers the railways as the most legitimate

channel ever yet afforded for the employment of that capital, and the

most fortunate in result for the ultimate destinies of the country. He

compares--and very aptly too--the essential difference between the

nature of the schemes in which the public are now embarking and those

which led to the disastrous results of 1825. His sole regret is, that

he must regard the present direction of enterprise, "as an

opportunity, that is, facility of investment, that from its nature can

be but temporary, though the profit of the investment must, from the

nature of things, be perpetual, and though even the temporary facility

may, and probably will, last for some years." This is a hopeful,

sunny-minded fellow, with whose aspirations, did our conscience permit

us, we should be thoroughly delighted to concur.

These writers may be taken as examples of two numerous classes. They

are, in fact, the Trois Eschelles' and Petit Andres of the railroads.

The first consider every commercial exertion consequent on a new

discovery, or the opening of a new channel for investment, doubtful in

itself, and highly dangerous if hurriedly and unhesitatingly adopted.

The social system, in their view, may suffer quite as much from

plethora as from inanition. Too much blood is as unwholesome as too

little, notwithstanding of any extraneous means to work it off. "Slow

and sure," is their motto--"Carpe diem," essentially that of their

antagonists. And yet in one thing, we believe, most individuals

holding these opposite opinions will be found to concur. They all

speculate. Heraclitus signs his contract with a shudder, and trembles

as he places his realized premium in the bank. Democritus laughingly

subscribes his name to thousands, and chuckles as he beholds his

favourite stock ascending in the thermometer of the share-market.

Heraclitus sells--Democritus holds; and thus the great point of wisdom

at issue between them, is reduced to a mere question of time.

But it is with their opinions, not their practice, that we have to

deal. As usual, truth will be found to lie somewhere between two

opposite extremes. We neither entertain the timid fear of the one

writer, nor the fearless enthusiasm of the other. The present state of

matters presents, in a double sense, a vast field of speculation,

through which we think it necessary to see our way a little more

clearly. Rash interference may be as dangerous as the principle of

"_laissez faire_," which in fact is no principle at all, but a blind

abandonment to chance. Let us, therefore, endeavour to borrow some

light from the experience of the past.

The desire of growing rapidly rich is a very old epidemic in this

country. It is a disease which infests the nation whenever capital, in

consequence of the success of trade and prosperous harvests, becomes

abundant; nor can it, in the nature of things, be otherwise. Capital

will not remain unemployed. If no natural channel is presented, the

accumulated weight of riches is sure to make an outlet for itself; and

the wisdom or folly of the irruption depends solely upon the course

which the stream may take. Of false channels which have conducted our

British Pactolus directly to a Dead Sea, from which there is no

return--we or our fathers have witnessed many. For example, there were

the South American and Mexican mining companies, founded on the most

absurd reports, and miserably mismanaged, in which many millions of

the capital of this country were sunk. Again, Mr Porter writes so late

as 1843--"A very large amount of capital belonging to individuals in

this country, the result of their savings, has of late years sought

profitable investments in other lands. It has been computed that the

United States of America have, _during the last five years_, absorbed

in this manner more than TWENTY-FIVE MILLIONS of English capital,

which sum has been invested in various public undertakings, such as

canals, _railroads_, and banks in that country. Large sums have also

been, from time to time, invested in the public securities of that and

other foreign governments, not always, indeed, with a profitable

result." We need hardly remind our readers of the poignant testimony

of the Rev. Sydney Smith as to the profit derived from such

investments, or the probable fate of the actual capital under a

repudiating system.

These may be taken as two great instances of the danger of foreign

speculation. The capital of the mining companies was squandered with

no other effect than that of providing employment, for a certain

number of years, to the lowest of the Mexican peasantry; whereas the

same amount, applied to a similar purpose in this country, would not

only have produced a handsome return to the invester, but would have

afforded work and wages to a considerable portion of the community.

There is a reciprocity between labour and capital which never ought

to be forgotten. Labour is the parent of all capital, and capital,

therefore, should be used for the fostering and assistance of the

power by which it is produced. Here, however, it was removed, and

became, to all intents and purposes, as useless and irrecoverable as

the bullion on board of a vessel which has foundered at sea. This,

therefore, may be regarded as so much lost capital; but what shall we

say to the other instance? Simply this--that whoever has lost by the

failure of American banks, by repudiation, or by stoppages of

dividends, need not claim one single iota of our compassion. With

British money has the acute Columbian united state to state by more

enduring ties than can be framed within the walls of Congress--with

it, he has overcome the gigantic difficulties of nature--formed a

level for the western waters where none existed before--pierced the

interminable forests with his railroads, and made such a rapid stride

in civilization as the world has never yet witnessed. What of all this

could he have done on his own resources? Something, we must

allow--because his spirit of enterprise is great, even to

recklessness, and a young and forming country can afford to run risks

which are impossible for an older state--but a very small part,

unquestionably, without the use of British capital. We cannot, and we

will not, believe that any considerable portion of these loans will be

ultimately lost to this country. Great allowance must be made for the

anger and vexation of the prospective sufferers at the first apparent

breach of international faith, and it is no wonder if their lament was

both loud, and long, and heavy. But we think it is but a fair

construction to suppose that our Transatlantic brethren, in the very

rapidity of their "slickness," have carried improvement too far, given

way to a false system of credit among themselves, and so, having

outrun the national constable, have found themselves compelled to

suspend payment for an interval, which, in the present course of their

prosperity, cannot be of long continuance. So at least we, having lent

the American neither plack nor penny, do in perfect charity presume;

but in the mean time he has our capital--say now some thirty

millions--he has used it most thoroughly and judiciously for himself,

and even supposing that we shall not ultimately suffer, what gain can

we qualify thereby?

If John Doe hath an estate of some twenty thousand acres in tolerable

cultivation, which, nevertheless, in order to bring it to a perfect

state of production, requires the accessaries of tile-draining,

planting, fencing, and the accommodation of roads, it is quite evident

that his extra thousand pounds of capital will be more profitably

expended on such purposes than on lending it to Richard Roe, who has

double the quantity of land in a state of nature. For Richard, though

with the best intentions, may not find his agricultural returns quite

so speedy as he expected, may shake his head negatively at the hint of

repayment of the principal, and even be rather tardy with tender of

interest at the term. John, moreover, has a population on his land

whom he cannot get rid of, who must be clothed and fed at his expense,

whether he can find work for them or no. This latter consideration,

indeed, is, in political economy, paramount--give work to your own

people, and ample work if possible, before you commit in loan to your

neighbour that capital which constitutes the sinews alike of peace and

of war.

We believe there are few thinking persons in this country who will

dispute the truth of this position. Indeed, the general results of

foreign speculation have been unprofitable altogether, as is shown by

the testimony of our ablest commercial writers. One of them gives the

following summary:--"Large sums have, from time to time, been lent to

various foreign states by English capitalists, whose money has been

put to great hazard, and, in some cases, lost. On the other hand, many

foreign loans have been contracted by our merchants, which have proved

highly profitable, through the progressive sale of the stock in

foreign countries at higher than the contract prices. It is evidently

impossible to form any correct estimate of the profit or loss which

has resulted to the country from these various operations; the

general impression is, that hitherto the losses have much exceeded the

gains." In that general impression we most cordially concur--indeed,

we never heard any man whose opinion was worth having, say otherwise.

But in the absence of home speculation it is little wonder that, for

the chance of unfrequent gain, men should choose, rather than leave

their capital unemployed, to run the risk of the frequent loss. It

does not, however, follow, as a matter of course, that home

speculation shall always prove profitable either to the invester or to

the nation at large. We have said already, that the proper function of

capital is to foster and encourage labour; but this may be carried too

far. For example, it is just twenty years ago, when, at a time of

great prosperity in trade--the regular products of this country being

as nearly as possible equal to the demand--a large body of

capitalists, finding no other outlet for their savings, gave an

unnatural stimulus to production, by buying up and storing immense

quantities of our home manufactures. This they must have done upon

some abstruse but utterly false calculation of augmented demand from

abroad, making no allowance for change of season, foreign fluctuation,

or any other of the occult causes which influence the markets of the

world. The result, as is well known, was most disastrous. Trade on a

sudden grew slack. The capitalists, in alarm, threw open the whole of

their accumulated stock at greatly depreciated prices. There was no

further demand for manufacturing labour, because the world was glutted

with the supply, and hence arose strikes, panic, bankruptcy, and a

period of almost unexampled hardship to the workman, and of serious

and permanent loss to the master manufacturer. Speculation, therefore,

in an old branch of industry, is perilous not only to the invester but

to the prosperity of the branch itself. The case, however, is widely

different when a new and important source of industry and income is

suddenly developed in the country.

We shall look back in vain over our past history to find any parallel

at all approaching to the present state and prospects of the railway

system. Forty-four years have elapsed since the first public railway

in Great Britain (the Wandsworth and Croydon) received the sanction of

the legislature. Twenty-five years afterwards, at the close of 1826,

when the Manchester and Liverpool bill was passed, the whole number of

railroad acts amounted to thirty-five: in 1838 it had increased to one

hundred and forty-two. The capital of these railways, with the sums

which the proprietors were authorized to borrow, cannot be taken at

less than SIXTY MILLIONS STERLING.

Now, it is very instructive to remark, that until the opening of the

Liverpool and Manchester line in September 1830, not one single

railway was constructed with a view to the conveyance of passengers.

The first intention of the railway was to provide for the carriage of

goods at a cheaper rate than could be effected by means of the canals,

and for the accommodation of the great coal-fields and mineral

districts of England. In the Liverpool and Manchester prospectus--a

species of document not usually remarkable for modesty or shyness of

assumption--the estimate of the number of passengers between these two

great towns was taken at the rate of one half of those who availed

themselves of coach conveyance. Cotton bales, manufactures, cattle,

coals, and iron, were relied on as the staple sources of revenue. Had

it not been for the introduction of the locomotive engine, and the

vast improvements it has received, by means of which we are now

whirled from place to place with almost magical rapidity, there can be

no doubt that the railways would, in most instances, have proved an

utter failure. The fact is singular, but it is perfectly ascertained,

that the railroads have not hitherto materially interfered with the

canals in the article of transmission of goods. The cost of railway

construction is incomparably greater than that attendant on the

cutting of canals, and therefore the land carriage can very seldom,

when speed is not required, compete with the water conveyance. But for

passengers, speed is all in all. The facility and shortness of transit

creates travellers at a ratio of which we probably have as yet no

very accurate idea. Wherever the system has had a fair trial, the

number of passengers has been quadrupled--in some cases quintupled,

and even more; and every month is adding to their numbers.

But 1838, though prolific in railways, was still a mere Rachel when

compared with the seven Leahs that have succeeded it. The principle of

trunk lines, then first recognised, has since been carried into effect

throughout England, and adopted in Scotland, though here the system

has not yet had full time for development. The statistics of the

railways already completed, have fully and satisfactorily demonstrated

the immense amount of revenue which in future will be drawn from these

great national undertakings, the increase on the last year alone

having amounted to upwards of a million sterling. That revenue is the

interest of the new property so created; and, therefore, we are making

no extravagant calculation when we estimate the increased value of

these railways at twenty millions in the course of a single year. That

is an enormous national gain, and quite beyond precedent. Indeed, if

the following paragraph, which we have extracted from a late railway

periodical, be true, our estimate is much within the mark. "The

improvement in the incomes of existing railways still continues, and

during the last two months has amounted to upwards of L200,000 in

comparison with the corresponding two months of 1844. The lines which

have reduced their fares most liberally, are the greatest gainers. At

this rate of increase of income, the value of the railway property of

the country is becoming greater by upwards of L2,000,000 sterling per

month." It is, therefore, by no means wonderful that as much of the

available capital of the country as can be withdrawn from its staple

sources of income should be eagerly invested in the railways, since no

other field can afford the prospect of so certain and increasing a

return.

The question has been often mooted, whether government ought not in

the first instance to have taken the management of the railways into

its own hands. Much may be said upon one or other side, and the

success of the experiment is, of course, a very different thing from

the mere prospect of success. Our opinion is quite decided, that, as

great public works, the government ought most certainly to have made

the trunk railways or, as in France, to have leased them to companies

who would undertake the construction of them for a certain term of

years, at the expiry of which the works themselves would have become

the property of the nation. Never was there such a prospect afforded

to a statesman of relieving the country, by its own internal

resources, of a great part of the national debt. Public works are not

unknown or without precedent in this country; but somehow or other

they are always unprofitable. At the cost of upwards of a million,

government constructed the Caledonian Canal, the revenue drawn from

which does not at the present moment defray its own expenses, much

less return a farthing of interest on this large expenditure of

capital. Now it is very difficult to see why government, if it has

power to undertake a losing concern, should not likewise be entitled,

for the benefit of the nation at large, to undertake even greater

works, which not only assist the commerce of the nation, but might in

a very short period, comparatively speaking, have almost extinguished

its taxation. It is now, of course, far too late for any idea of the

kind. The golden opportunity presented itself for a very short period

of time, and to the hands of men far too timid to grasp it, even if

they could have comprehended its advantages. Finance never was, and

probably never will be, a branch of Whig education, as even Joseph

Hume has been compelled a thousand times piteously and with wringing

of the hands to admit--and whose arithmetic could we expect them even

to know, if they admitted and knew not Joseph's? But this at least

they might have done, when the progress of railroads throughout the

kingdom became a matter of absolute certainty. The whole subject

should have been brought under the consideration of a board, to

determine what railways were most necessary throughout the kingdom,

and what line would be cheapest and most advantageous to the public;

and when these points had once been ascertained, no competition

whatever should have been allowed. The functions of the Board of

Trade were not nearly so extensive; they had no report of government

engineers, and no _data_ to go upon save the contradictory statements

of the rival companies. Hence their decision, in almost every

instance, was condemned by the parties interested, who, having a

further tribunal in Parliament, where a thousand interests unknown to

the Board of Trade could be appealed to, rushed into a protracted

contest, at an expenditure which this year is understood to have

exceeded all precedent. We have no means of ascertaining the expenses

of such a line as the London and York, which was fought inch by inch

through the Committees of both Houses with unexampled acrimony and

perseverance. We know, however, that the expenses connected with the

Great Western, and the London and Birmingham bills, amounted

respectively to L88,710 and L72,868, exclusive altogether of the costs

incurred by the different parties who opposed these lines in

Parliament. It has been stated in a former number of this

Magazine--and we believe it--that the parliamentary costs incurred for

the Scottish private and railway bills, during the last session alone,

amounted to a million and a half.

Now, though a great part of the money thus expended is immediately

returned to circulation, still it is a severe tax upon the provinces,

and might very easily have been avoided by the adoption of some such

plan as that which we have intimated above; and we shall presently

venture to offer a few practical remarks as to the course which we

think is still open to the government for checking an evil which is by

no means inseparable from the system.

But, first, we are bound to state that, _as yet_, we can see no

grounds for believing that the nominal amount of capital invested in

the railways which have obtained the sanction of Parliament is beyond,

or any thing approaching to, the surplus means of the country. Foreign

speculation, except in so far as regards railroads, (and these are

neither so safe nor so profitable an investment as at home,) seems for

the present entirely to have ceased. The last three years of almost

unequalled prosperity have accumulated in the country a prodigious

deal of capital, which is this way finding an outlet; and though it

may be true that the parties who originally subscribed to these

undertakings may not, in the aggregate, be possessed of capital enough

to carry them successfully to an end, still there has been no want of

capitalists to purchase the shares at a premium--not, as we verily

believe, for a mere gambling transaction, but for the purposes of

solid investment. We base our calculations very much upon the steadily

maintained prices of the railways which passed in 1844, and which are

now making. Now, these afford no immediate return--on the contrary, a

considerable amount of calls is still due upon most of them, and the

earliest will probably not be opened until the expiry of ten months

from the present date. It is quite obvious that, in this kind of

stock, there can be no incentive to gambling, because the chances are,

that any new lines which may be started in the vicinity of them shall

be rivals rather than feeders; and if capital were so scarce as in

some quarters it is represented to be, it is scarce possible that

these lines could have remained so firmly held. Let us take the prices

of the principal of these from the Liverpool share-lists as on 27th

September.

Share. Paid. Selling Price.

25 10 BLACKBURN AND PRESTON, 19-3/4 to 20-1/4

50 15 CHESTER AND HOLYHEAD, 20 to 20-1/2

50 25 LANCASTER AND CARLISLE, 53-1/2 to 54-1/2

50 15 LEEDS AND BRADFORD, 61 to 63

25 12-1/2 EAST LANCASHIRE, 22 to 22-1/2

20 9 NORTH WALES MINERAL, 14-3/4 to 15-1/4

10 1 DO. NEW, 5-1/4 to 5-1/2

25 15 NORTH BRITISH, 25 to 26

50 20 SOUTH DEVON, 34 to 36

These lines have, in the language of the Stock Exchange, passed out of

the hands of the jobbers, and most of them are now too heavy in

amount for the operations of the smaller speculators. We therefore

look upon their steadiness as a high proof, not only of their ultimate

value, but of the general abundance of capital.

It is hardly possible as yet to draw any such deduction from the

present prices of the lines which were passed in the course of last

session. Upon many of these no calls have yet been made, and

consequently they are still open to every kind of fluctuation. It

cannot, therefore, be said that they have settled down to their true

estimated value, and, in all probability, erelong some may decline to

a certain degree. Still it is very remarkable, and certainly

corroborative of our view, that the amazing influx of new schemes

during the last few months--which, time and circumstance considered,

may be fairly denominated a craze--has as yet had no effect in

lowering them; more especially when we recollect, that the amount of

deposit now required upon new railways is ten per cent on the whole

capital, or exactly double of the ratio of the former deposits. We

give these facts to the terrorists who opine that our surplus capital

is ere now exhausted, and that deep inroads have been made upon the

illegitimate stores of credit; and we ask them for an explanation

consistent with their timorous theory.

At the same time, we would by no means scoff at the counsel of our

Ahitophels. A glance at the newspapers of last month, and their

interminable advertising columns, is quite enough to convince us that

the thing may be overdone. True, not one out of five--nay, perhaps,

not one out of fifteen--of these swarming schemes, has the chance of

obtaining the sanction of Parliament for years to come; still, it is

not only a pity, but a great waste and national grievance, that so

large a sum as the deposits which are paid on these railways should be

withdrawn--it matters not how long--from practical use, and locked up

to await the explosion of each particular bubble. We do think,

therefore, that it is high time for the legislature to interfere, not

for any purpose of opposing the progress of railways, but either by

establishing a peremptory board of supervision, or portioning out the

different localities with respect to time, on some new and compendious

method.

Last session the committees, though they performed their duties with

much zeal and assiduity, were hardly able to overtake the amount of

business before them. It was not without much flattery and coaxing

that the adroit Premier, of all men best formed for a general leader

of the House of Commons, could persuade the unfortunate members that

an unfaltering attendance of some six hours a-day in a sweltering and

ill-ventilated room, where their ears were regaled with a constant

repetition of the jargon connected with curves, gradients, and

traffic-tables, was their great and primary duty to the commonwealth.

Most marvellous to say, he succeeded in overcoming their stubborn

will. Every morning, by times, the knight of the shire, albeit

exhausted from the endurance of the over-night's debate, rose up from

his neglected breakfast, and posted down to his daily cell in the

Cloisters. Prometheus under the beak of the vulture could not have

shown more patience than most of those unhappy gentlemen under the

infliction of the lawyer's tongue; and their stoicism was the more

praiseworthy, because in many instances there seemed no prospect,

however remote, of the advent of a Hercules to deliver them. The only

men who behaved unhandsomely on the occasion were some of the Irish

members, advocates of Repeal, who, with more than national brass,

grounded their declinature on the galling yoke of the Saxon, and

retreated to Connemara, doubtless exulting that in this instance at

least they had freed themselves from "hereditary bonds." It may be

doubted, however, whether the tone of the committees was materially

deteriorated by their absence. Now, we have a great regard for the

members of the House of Commons collectively; and, were it on no other

account save theirs, we cannot help regarding the enormous

accumulation of railway bills for next session with feelings of

peculiar abhorrence. Last spring every exertion of the whole combined

pitchforks was required to cleanse that Augean stable: can Sir Robert

Peel have the inhumanity next year to request them to buckle to a

tenfold augmented task? In our humble opinion, (and we know something

of the matter,) flesh and blood are unable to stand it. The private

business of this country, if conducted on the ancient plan, must

utterly swamp the consideration of public affairs, and the member of

Parliament dwindle into a mere arbiter between hostile surveyors;

whilst the ministry, delighted at the abstraction of both friend and

foe, have the great game of politics unchecked and unquestioned to

themselves. The surest way to gag a conscientious opponent, or to stop

the mouth of an imprudent ally, is to get him placed upon some such

committee as that before which the cases of the London and York, and

Direct Northern lines were discussed. If, after three days' patient

hearing of the witnesses and lawyers, he has one tangible idea

floating in his head, he is either an Alcibiades or a Bavius--a

heaven-born genius or the mere incarnation of a fool!

Let it be granted that the present system pursued by Parliament, more

especially when its immediate prospects are considered, is an

evil--and we believe there are few who will be bold enough to deny

it--it still remains that we seek out a remedy. This is no easy task.

The detection of an error is always a slight matter compared with its

emendation, and we profess to have neither the aptitude nor the

experience of a Solon. But as we are sanguine that wherever an evil

exists a remedy also may be found, we shall venture to offer our own

crude ideas, in the hope that some better workman, whose appetite for

business has been a little allayed by the copious surfeit of last

year, may elaborate them into shape, and emancipate one of the most

deserving, as well as the worst used, classes of her Majesty's

faithful lieges. And first, we would say this--Do not any longer

degrade the honourable House of Commons, by forcing on its attention

matters and details which ought to fall beneath the province of a

lower tribunal: do not leave it in the power of any fool or knave--and

there are many such actively employed at this time--who can persuade

half a dozen of the same class with himself into gross delusion of the

public, to occupy the time, and monopolize the nobler functions of the

legislature, in the consideration of some miserable scheme, which

never can be carried into effect, and which is protracted beyond

endurance simply for the benefit of its promoters. We do not mean that

Parliament should abandon its controlling power, or even delegate it

altogether. We only wish that the initiative--the question whether any

particular project is likely to tend to the public benefit, and, if

so, whether this is a fit and proper time to bring it forward--should

be discussed elsewhere. A recommendation of the Board of Trade, which

still leaves the matter open, is plainly useless and inoperative. It

has been overleaped, derided, despised, and will be so again--we

scarcely dare to say unjustly; for no body of five men, however

intelligent, could by possibility be expected to form an accurate

judgment upon such an enormous mass of materials and conflicting

statements as were laid before them. And yet, preliminary enquiry

there must be. The movement is far too great, and charged with too

important interests, to permit its march unchecked. Of all tyrannical

bodies, a railway company is the most tyrannical. It asks to be armed

with powers which the common law denies to the Sovereign herself. It

seeks, without your leave, to usurp your property, and will not buy it

from you at your own price. It levels your house, be it grange or

cottage, lays down its rails in your gardens, cuts through your

policy, and fells down unmercifully the oaks which your Norman

ancestor planted in the days of William Rufus. All this you must

submit to, for the public benefit is paramount to your private

feelings; but it would be an intolerable grievance were you called

upon to submit to this, not for the public benefit, but for the mere

temporary emolument of a handful of unprincipled jobbers. Therefore

there must be enquiry, even though Parliament, strangled with a

multitude of projects, should delegate a portion of its powers

elsewhere.

And why not? It required no great acuteness of vision to see, that,

even had the railway mania not risen to this singular height, some

such step must erelong have been rendered imperative by the growing

necessities and altered circumstances of the country. The leading

feature of our age is the institution of joint-stock societies. We

have taken up very lately the views which AEsop hinted at some

thousands of years ago, in his quaint parabolic manner, and which

Defoe, who lived a century and a half before his time, most clearly

enunciated and described. We have found the way, at last, to make

small capitals effect the most gigantic results, by encircling them

with the magic ties of combination. No matter when it was discovered;

the principle has never yet been thoroughly acted upon until now, and

we know not how far it may be carried. Our fathers, for want of this

principle, ruined themselves by isolated attempts--we are in no such

danger, if we do not yield ourselves to the madness of extravagant

daring. Put railways aside altogether, and the number of private bills

which are now brought before Parliament is perfectly astounding.

Twenty years ago, such an influx would have daunted the heart of the

stoutest legislator; and yet, with all this remarkable increase, we

have clung pertinaciously to the same machinery, and expect it to work

as well as when it had not one tithe of the labour to perform.

We have always been, and we shall always continue to be, the strenuous

advocates of LOCAL BOARDS, as by far the soundest, cheapest, and most

natural method of administering local affairs. We can recognise no

principle in the system by which a Scottish bill is entrusted to the

judgment of a committee consisting of strangers, who are utterly

ignorant of locality, vested interest, popular feeling, and every

other point which ought to influence the consideration of such a

matter. One would think, by the care which is invariably taken to

exclude from the committee every man whose local knowledge can qualify

him to form an opinion, that in ignorance alone is there safety from

venality and prejudice--a supposition which, to say the least, conveys

no compliment to the character or understanding of the British

statesman. And yet this is the system which has hitherto been most

rigidly adopted. We have judges in our law courts whose impartiality

is beyond all suspicion. They are placed on a high, conspicuous

pinnacle in the sight of the nation, to do justice between man and

man; they are fenced and fortified by the high dignity, almost

sanctity, of their calling, against clamour, idle rumour, private

interest, or any other element that might disturb the course of

equity, and therefore their decisions are received on all sides with

reverential acquiescence. Why should not the private business of the

country be placed upon the same footing? Let there be three

commissions issued--three permanent local boards established in

England, Scotland, and Ireland, under the superintendence, if

necessary, of the Board of Trade; let Parliament lay down rules for

their guidance, and let every measure which at present would be

launched _de plano_ into the House of Commons, be first submitted to

their consideration; and let their determination to reject or postpone

be final, unless the legislature shall see fit, by a solemn vote, to

reverse that portion of their report. In this way a multitude of loose

and undigested schemes would be thrown back upon the hands of their

promoters, without clogging the wheels of Parliament; and such only as

bear _ex facie_ to be for the public advantage, would be allowed to

undergo the more searching ordeal of a committee. These boards would

literally cost the country nothing, even although the constituent

members of them were paid, as they ought to be for the performance of

such a duty, very highly. Each company applying for a bill might be

assessed to a certain amount, corresponding to the value of its stock;

as it is but fair that the parties who have created the exigency, and

whose avowed object is profit, should defray the attendant expense.

Supposing that the principle of these boards were admitted, it seems

to us that Parliament has still to exercise a great and serious duty

in laying down rules for their guidance. This is perhaps the most

difficult subject connected with the railway system; and we approach

it with diffidence, as it is inseparable, nay, must be based upon the

two grand considerations of CAPITAL and LABOUR. We shall endeavour to

explain our meaning a little more minutely.

The reader will gather from what we have written above, that we

entertain no fear that the nominal capital invested in the railways

_which have already received the sanction of Parliament_, is now more

than the surplus capital floating in the country which can be applied

to such a purpose without injuring any portion of our staple

manufactures or commerce. On the contrary, we think that it is very

greatly below that mark, and therefore that it matters little, in a

general point of view, by whom the stock is presently held. Sooner or

later it must find its way into the hands of the capitalists, a class

whose numbers are notoriously every day on the increase. Even were

this not the case, and the balance otherwise, it must be recollected

that the investment of that capital is not the thing of a moment. Four

years, probably, may elapse before all the railways _which have

obtained bills_ can be completed, and during that time the calls are

gradual. Unless, therefore, there shall occur some untoward and

unforeseen cause, such as a continental war or a general stoppage of

trade, the accumulation of capital in this country will be at least

equally progressive. There is thus a future increment corresponding to

the period of the completion of these public works, which may very

fairly be taken into consideration, at least, as a kind of security

that we have not hitherto advanced with too rash or hasty steps. But

with the unchecked influx of new schemes, this security, which at best

is but contingent, must disappear, and a further enormous absorption

of capital, the existence of which is not satisfactorily proved, be

called for. In such a state of things, it is unquestionably the duty

of government to use its controlling power. The payment of ten per

cent deposit is no guarantee at all. Whilst new stocks are at premium,

a hundred pounds, in the hands of an enterprising speculator, may

figure as the representative of many thousands in twenty different

railway schemes. The limit of disposable capital in the country

must--if all the new projects are permitted to go on--be reached, and

that erelong; then comes a period of gambling whilst money is cheap

and credit plentiful--a sudden contraction of currency--and a crash.

It has been found utterly impossible to ascertain the amount of

capital at any time floating in Great Britain. We can, therefore, only

guess from certain commercial symptoms when it is nearly exhausted. On

this point the money articles in the London journals have of late

contained many significant hints. The settlements on the Stock

Exchange are weekly becoming more difficult, and an enormous per

centage is said to be paid at present for temporary accommodation. It

is understood, also, that the banks are about to raise the rate of

discount; from which we infer that their deposits are being gradually

withdrawn, since there is no other circumstance whatever that ought to

operate a change.[7] But really it requires no calculation and no

foresight to see, that the mere amount of deposits required for the

new schemes must erelong lock up the whole available capital of Great

Britain. Let those who think this is a bold assertion on our part,

attend to the following fact. We have taken from _The Railway Record_,

the amount of _new railway schemes_ advertised _in a single week_, at

the beginning of October. The number of the schemes is FORTY; and they

comprehend the ephemera of England and Ireland only--Scotland, which,

during that period, was most emulously at work, seems, by some

unaccountable accident, to have been overlooked. Of the amount of

capital to be invested in no less than ELEVEN of these, we have no

statement. The promoters apparently have no time to attend to such

trifling details; and, doubtless, it will be early enough to announce

the capital when they have playfully pounced upon the deposits. But

there is some candour in TWENTY-NINE provisional committees, and their

accumulated nominal capital proves to be--how much, think you, gifted

reader, and confident dabbler in new stock? Why, merely

this--TWENTY-FIVE MILLIONS EIGHT HUNDRED AND THIRTY THOUSAND POUNDS!!!

Now--for we wish always to speak and write within the mark--let us

calculate the eleven Harpocrates Companies and the Northern Schemes,

(which are more than eleven,) at fourteen or fifteen additional

millions; and you thus have parties engaged, _in the course of a

single week_, for FORTY MILLIONS STERLING, or _about one-twentieth

part of the whole national debt_; which, according to this rate of

subscription, may be extinguished by our surplus capital in the short

space of five months. And this is the country, where, three years ago,

the manufacturer and miner were starving, Manchester almost in a state

of siege, and Staley-bridge in absolute insurrection! Happy Britain,

where every man has discovered the philosopher's stone!

After this, need we say any thing more upon the great topic of

capital? Were the nation now in its sober senses, the facts which we

have stated, and for the accuracy of which we pledge ourselves, would

surely be enough to awaken it to a true conception of the vortex into

which it is plunging. But as every man will no doubt think--with the

ordinary self-delusion of our kind--that the scheme in which he is

individually embarked is an exception from the common rule; let us ask

each speculator candidly to make answer, whether he has minutely

examined the merits of the line which he has adopted, or whether he

has thrown himself into it upon the assurances of others, and the mere

expectations of a premium? If the former, let him hold. We war with no

man's deliberate judgment; and that there are many projected lines in

Great Britain which must ultimately be carried, and which will prove

most profitable to the shareholders, is beyond all manner of doubt.

Whether they may receive the sanction of the legislature so soon as

the proprietor expects, is a very different question. But if the

latter, his case is far otherwise. We have seen the prospectus of

several of the most gigantic schemes now in the market, by means of

which the whole length of England is to be traversed, and these have

undergone no further survey than the application of a ruler to a

lithographic map, and a trifling transplantation of the principal

towns, so as to coincide with the direct and undeviating rail. There

is hardly a sharebroker in the kingdom who is not cognisant of this

most flagrant fact; and by many of them the impudent impositions have

been returned with the scorn which such conduct demands. It is hardly

possible to conceive that these schemes were ever intended to meet the

eye of Parliament; but, if not, why were they ever started? The

reflection is a very serious one for those who have deposited their

money.

Such projects, of course, are the exceptions, and not the rule. Still,

their existence, and the support which they have unthinkingly

obtained, are very lamentable symptoms of the recklessness which

characterises the present impulse. Were the tone of commercial

enterprise healthy, and kept within due bounds, there would be nothing

of this; neither should we hear, as we do every day, of shares which,

immediately after their allocation, attain an enormous premium, and,

after having fluctuated for a week or two, subside to something like

their real value.

Are we then justified or not in saying, that it is the imperative duty

of the legislature to look to this question of capital; that it is

bound to see that the country does not pledge itself so utterly beyond

its means; and that the advance of the railway system must be made

slow and steady, in order to render its basis secure?

But there is another point beyond this. Supposing that all our remarks

on the subject of capital were erroneous, and that our financial views

were as puerile as we believe them to be strictly sound--we fall back

upon an element which is more easily ascertained, and that is, LABOUR.

We hold it to be a clear economical maxim, that beyond a certain

point, at all events within a given time, capital, however abundant it

may be, cannot _create_ labour. It has passed into a sort of truism

that there is nothing which money cannot accomplish--analyse it, and

you will find that it is not a truism but a popular fallacy. There are

many, many things which money cannot accomplish. It has no power to

clear the social atmosphere from crime; it may mar the morals of a

people, but it cannot make them; and still less can it usurp the

stupendous functions of the Deity. It may rear labour, but it cannot

by any possibility create it, after such a fashion as the crop that

sprang from the sowing of the Cadmean teeth. Let us illustrate this a

little.

Probably--nay, certainly--there never was a country in which labour

has been so accurately balanced as in Great Britain. Our population

has been for a number of years upon the increment; but the increase

has been of the nature of supply, consequent and almost dependent upon

the demand. The wages paid to the children in manufacturing districts

have swelled that portion of our population to a great degree, though

probably not more than is indispensable from the fluctuating nature of

commerce. But, so far as we can learn from statistical tables, the

number of agricultural labourers--that is, those who are strictly

employed in the cultivation of the land, and who cannot be spared from

that most necessary task--has been rather on the decrease. Our

business, however, is neither with manufacturer nor with

agriculturist, but with a different class--those, namely, who are

engaged in the public works of the country. Let us take Mr Porter's

estimate, according to the census of 1831.

"The summary of the returns of 1831, respecting the occupations of

males twenty years of age and upwards, throws considerable light

upon the subject, by exhibiting them under several subdivisions.

The males belonging to the families included in the

non-agricultural and non-manufacturing classes, were given at the

last census under four distinct heads of description, viz.:--

"Capitalists, Bankers, Professional, and other educated men.

"_Labourers employed in labour, not Agricultural._

"Other males, twenty years of age, except servants.

"Male servants, twenty years of age.

"The whole number of males included under these heads, amounts to

1,137,270. Of _these_, 608,712 were actually employed in labour,

which although, usually speaking, it was neither manufacturing nor

trading, was yet necessary in the successful prosecution of some

branch of trade or manufactures, _such as mining, road-making,

canal-digging, inland navigation, &c._"

Of these 600,000, now probably augmented by a tenth, how many can be

spared from their several employments for the construction of the

railways, and how many are at this moment so employed, with their

labour mortgaged for years? This is a question which Parliament ought

most certainly--if it can be done--to get answered in a satisfactory

manner. It must be remarked, that in this class are included the

miners, who certainly cannot be withdrawn from their present work,

which in fact is indispensable for the completion of the railways. If

possible, their numbers must be augmented. The stored iron of the

country is now exhausted, and the masters are using every diligence in

their power to facilitate the supply, which still, as the advancing

price of that great commodity will testify, is short of, and

insufficient for the demand. From the agricultural labourers you

cannot receive any material number of recruits. The land, above all

things, must be tilled; and--notwithstanding the trashy assertions of

popular slip-slop authors and Cockney sentimentalists, who have

favored us with pictures of the Will Ferns of the kingdom, as unlike

the reality as may be--the condition of those who cultivate the soil

of Britain is superior to that of the peasantry in every other country

of Europe. The inevitable increase of demand for labour will even

better their condition, according to the operation of a law apparent

to every man of common sense, but which is hopelessly concealed from

the eyes of these spurious regenerators of the times. It is impossible

to transform the manufacturer, even were that trade slack, into a

railway labourer; the habits and constitution of the two classes

being essentially different and distinct. Indeed, as the writer we

have already quoted well remarks--"Experience has shown that

uneducated men pass with difficulty, and unwillingly, from occupations

to which they have been long accustomed," and nothing, consequently,

is more difficult than to augment materially and suddenly the numbers

of any industrial class, when an unexpected demand arises. To us,

therefore, it seems perfectly clear, that even if the capital were

forthcoming, there is not labour enough in the country for the

simultaneous construction of a tithe of the projected schemes.

There are considerations connected with this matter which entail a

great responsibility upon the government. The capitalists are, in

fact, putting at its disposal the means of maintaining a great portion

of the poorer population for many years to cone. If this be properly

attended to, emigration, which principally benefits the labourer, may

be discontinued. We have now arrived at a pass when the absence of

those who have already emigrated becomes a matter of regret. There is

work to be had nearer than the Canadian woods or the waterless

prairies of Australia--work, too, that in its results must be of

incalculable benefit to the community. But the government is bound to

regulate it so, that, amidst superabundance of wealth, due regard is

paid to the ECONOMY OF LABOUR. It is rumoured that some railway

directors, fully aware of the facts which we have stated, are

meditating, in their exuberant haste for dividends, the introduction

of foreign labourers. We doubt whether, under any circumstances, such

a scheme is practicable; but of this we entertain no doubt, that it is

as mischievous a device as ever was forged in the cabinet of Mammon!

Some years ago the cuckoo cry of the political quacks was

over-population. Now it seems there is a scarcity of hands, and in

order to supply the want--for we have drained the Highlands--we are to

have an importation from Baden or Bavaria, without even the protecting

solemnity of a tariff. If this be true, it seems to us that government

is bound to interpose by the most stringent measures. It is monstrous

to think, that whereas, for many years past, for mere slackness of

labour, we have been encouraging emigration among the productive

classes of our countrymen to a very great degree; draining, as it

were, the mother country to found the colonies, and therein resorting

to the last step which a paternal government, even in times of the

greatest necessity, should adopt--now, when a new experiment, or

social crisis--call it which you will--has arisen, when labour has

again reached the point where the demand exceeds the supply, we are to

admit an influx of strangers amongst us, and thereby entail upon

ourselves and posterity the evils of prospective pauperism. We have

been already too prone, in matters relating rather to the luxuries

than the necessities of our social system, to give undue preference to

the foreigner. British art has, in many branches, been thereby

crippled and discouraged, and a cry, not unnatural surely, has ere now

been raised against the practice. But how incomparably more dangerous

it would be to inundate the country with an alien population, whose

mere brute strength, without a particle of productive skill, is their

only passport and certificate! This too, be it observed, is not for

the purpose of establishing or furthering a branch of industry which

can furnish permanent employment, but merely for carrying out a system

of great change certainly, but of limited endurance. If labour

required to be forced, it would certainly be more for our advantage to

revise our penal institutions, and to consider seriously whether those

who have committed offences against our social laws, might not be more

profitably employed in the great works of the kingdom, than by

transplanting them as at present to the Antipodes at a fearful

expense, the diminution of which appears, in all human probability,

impossible.

If, then, we are right in our premises, the two leading points which

Parliament must steadily regard in forming its decisions connected

with the new schemes, are the sufficiency of unfettered capital and

the adequate supply of labour. Our conviction is, that neither exist

to any thing like the extent which would be required were the present

mania allowed to run its course unchecked. But, on the other hand, a

total stoppage of improvement might be equally dangerous; and it will

therefore be necessary to steer a middle course, and to regulate the

movement according to certain principles. Let us, then, first consider

what lines ought _not_ to be granted.

At the head of these we should place the whole bundle of rival

companies to railways already completed or in progress. We are not of

the number of those who stand up for exclusive commercial monopoly;

but we do think that there is a tacit or implied contract between the

state and the proprietors of the sanctioned lines, which ought to

shield the latter against rash and invidious competition. The older

railways are the parents of the system; without them, it never could

have been discovered what gradients were requisite, what works

indispensable, what savings practicable. The expense of their

construction we know to have been, in many instances, far greater than

is contained in the modern estimates, and the land which they required

to occupy was procured at extravagant prices. Now it does seem to us

in the highest degree unfair, that the interest of these companies

should be sacrificed for the sake of what is called the "direct"

principle. A saving of twenty or thirty miles between Newcastle and

London, is now thought to be a matter of so much importance as to

justify one or more independent lines, which, despising intermediate

cities and their traffic, still hold their even course as the crow

flies, from point to point, and thereby shorten the transit from the

south to the north of England by--it may be--the matter of an hour. We

did not use to be quite so chary of our minutes: nor, though fully

aware of the value of time, did we ever bestow the same regard upon

the fractional portions of our existence. What the nation requires is

a safe, commodious, and speedy mode of conveyance, and we defy the

veriest streak-of-lightning man to say, that the present companies in

operation do not afford us that to our heart's content. It is but a

very few years ago since we used to glorify ourselves in the rapidity

of the mail-coach, doing its ten miles an hour with the punctuality of

clockwork. Now we have arrived at the ratio of forty within the same

period, and yet we are not content. Next year, within fourteen hours

we shall be transported from Edinburgh to London. That, it seems, is

not enough. A company offers to transport us by a straighter line in

thirteen; and for that purpose they ask leave of the legislature to

construct a rival line at the expense of a few millions! Now, keeping

in mind what we have said as to capital, is not this, in the present

state of things, most wanton prodigality? The same "few millions"--and

we rather suspect they are fewer than is commonly supposed--would open

up counties hitherto untouched by the railway system--would give us

communication through the heart of the Highlands, through the remoter

districts of Wales, through the unvisited nooks of Ireland, and, in so

doing, would minister not only to the wants of the community, but in

an inconceivable degree to the social improvement of the people. Among

the list of proposed schemes for next session, there are many such;

and surely our government, if its functions correspond to the name, is

bound, in the first instance, to give a preference to these;

and--since all cannot be accomplished at once--to assist the schemes

which volunteer the opening of a new district, rather than the

competition of mushroom companies where the field is already occupied.

There is also a filching spirit abroad, which ought decidedly to be

checked. Scarce a main line has been established from which it has not

been found necessary, for the purposes of accommodation, to run

several branches. Until about a year ago, it was generally understood

that these adjuncts ought to be left in the hands of the original

companies, who, for their own sakes, were always ready to augment

their traffic by such feeders. Now it is widely different. Four or

five miles of cross country is reckoned a sufficient justification for

the establishment of an independent company, who, without any

consultation with the proprietors of the main line, or enquiry as to

their ultimate intentions, seize upon the vacant ground as a waif,

and throw themselves confidently upon the public. If the matter does

not end in a lease, the unfortunate public will be the losers, since

it is manifestly impossible that a little Lilliput line can be cheaply

worked, independent of the larger trunk. This class of schemes also

should receive their speedy _quietus_; for what would be the use of

permitting the promoters to attempt the proof of an impossible case?

England has already made a great portion of her railroads, but neither

Scotland nor Ireland as yet have attained the same point. Now, in a

general point of view, it will hardly be denied, that it is of far

greater importance to have the country thoroughly opened up,

throughout its length and breadth, than to have an accumulation of

cross and intersecting railways in one particular district. We are

asking no favouritism, for it has become a mere matter of choice

between companies, as to which shall have the earlier preference. In

point of policy, the legislature ought certainly to extend every

possible favour to the Irish lines. It may be that in this railway

system--for Providence works with strange agents--there lies the germ

of a better understanding between us, and the dawn of a happier day

for Ireland. At any rate, to its pauper population, the employment

afforded by companies, where no absenteeism can exist, is a great and

timely boon, and may work more social wonders than any scheme of

conciliation which the statesman has as yet devised. Idleness and lack

of employment are the most fertile sources of agitation; let these be

removed, and we may look, if not with confidence, at least with hope,

for a cessation of the stormy evil. By all means, then, let Ireland

have the precedence. She needs it more than the other countries do,

and to her claims we are all disposed to yield.

But England owes Scotland something also. For a long series of years,

amidst great political changes, through good and through evil report,

this Magazine has been the consistent champion of our national

interests; and, whether the blow was aimed at our country by seeming

friend or open foe, we have never hesitated to speak out boldly. More

than twenty years ago, a measure was passed by the United Parliament,

which literally brought down ruin upon the Highlands of Scotland, and

from the effects of which many of the districts have never recovered.

Along all the western coast and throughout the islands, the

manufacture of kelp was the only branch of industry within the reach

of a poor and extended population, who, from their very poverty, were

entitled to the most kindly regard of government. But, as it is

believed, at the instigation of one member of the cabinet, himself

largely connected with foreign trade, without enquiry and without

warning, the market was thrown open to competition from without,

barilla imported, and the staple product of the north of Scotland

annihilated. To this fatal, and, we hesitate not to say, most wanton

measure, we attribute the periods of distress, and the long-continued

depression, which, in very many lamentable instances, have been the

ruin of our ancient families, and in consequence of which the Highland

glens have been depopulated. It was a cruel thing to do, under any

circumstances--a wicked thing, when we remember the interest by which

it was carried. There is now a great opportunity of giving us a

reasonable compensation. From the introduction of the railway system,

we anticipate a new era of prosperity to Scotland--a time when we

shall not have to devote ourselves to the melancholy task of

decreasing the population by a harsh or inhuman exile--when the crofts

of the valleys shall again be tilled, and the household fires shall be

lighted on the now deserted hearthstone. Therefore, in the event of a

restriction, we so far claim precedence. Let the work, however, be

impartially distributed throughout the kingdoms, and there can be no

ground any where for complaint. Only let our haste be tempered with

prudence, and our enthusiasm moderated down to a just coincidence with

our means.

During all this torrent of speculation, what is the Currency doing? No

man seems to know. The nation has found a paper of its own quite as

effective as that which is doled out by the chartered bank. The

brokers are, in fact, becoming bankers, and payments of all kinds are

readily made in scrip. This is an instructive fact, and may somewhat

tend to disturb the triumph of the theorists who uphold the doctrine

of a restrictive trade in money. We do not rely on the safety of the

system, but we look upon it as a strong proof that our monetary

regulations are wrong, and that there is not only a wish, but several

practical ways, effectually to evade its fetters. We are not, however,

going into that question, though it is by no means unconnected with

our present subject. At the same time we should like to see this same

article of scrip, which is fast approximating to notes, a little more

protected. Has it never occurred to the mind of the Chancellor of the

Exchequer, or to the Premier, who has a most searching eye, that a

very profitable source of revenue to the public, and one which would

hardly be grudged, might be derived from the simple expedient of

requiring that _all scrip should be stamped_? There is no practical

difficulty in the matter. Companies already formed, if they do not

desire the benefit of a stamp--the best, and indeed at present the

only security against the forger--may be called upon to pay their

quota, corresponding to the number of their shares, from the fund of

their Parliamentary deposit. New companies, again, might be

imperatively required to issue stamps; and we confidently believe that

no tax whatever would be more cheerfully assented to. Let the currency

doctors do what they will, they never can drive scrip from the market.

Would it not, then, be a measure of good policy to enlist it as a

serviceable ally?

Whether these observations of ours may stand the test of another

year's experience, is certainly matter of doubt. The period of a

single month makes wild changes in the prospects of the system, and

involves us not only in new calculations but in a newer phase of

things. At any rate it can do no harm, in the present period of

excitement, to preach a little moderation, even though our voice

should be as inaudible as the chirp of a sparrow on the house-top. The

speculative spirit of the age may be checked and controlled, but it

cannot be put down, nor would we wish to see it pass away. All great

improvement is the fruit of speculation, upon which, indeed, commerce

itself is based. We have, therefore, no sympathy for that numerous

class of gentlemen who profess a pious horror for every venture of the

kind, who croak prophetical bankruptcies, and would disinherit their

sons without scruple, if by any accident they detected them in

dalliance with scrip. A worthier, but a more contracted, section of

the human race does not exist. They are the genuine descendants of the

Picts; and, had they lived in remoter days, would have been the first

to protest against the abolition of ochre as an ornament, or the

substitution of broadcloth for the untanned buffalo hide. The nation

must progress, and the true Conservative policy is to lay down a

proper plan for the steadiness and endurance of its march. The Roman

state was once saved by the judicious dispositions of a Fabius, and,

in our mind, Sir Robert Peel cannot do the public a greater service

than to imitate the example of the _Cunctator_. He has the power, and,

more than any living statesman, the practical ability, to grapple with

such a subject in all its details. That Parliament must do something,

is apparent to every reflecting man. The machinery of it cannot

dispose, as heretofore, of the superabundant material. It must devise

some method of regulation, and that method must be clear and decisive.

A question more important can hardly be conceived, and so with the

legislature we leave it.

FOOTNOTE:

[7] Since this article was sent to press, the Bank of England has

raised its rates of discount one-half per cent. Our prognostication,

therefore, has been verified sooner than we expected, and we are not

sorry to find that great establishment thus early indicating its

opinion that speculation has been pushed too far. We see no ground of

alarm in the rise, but rather a security for a more healthy and

moderate market.

* * * * *

_Edinburgh: Printed by Ballantyne & Hughes, Paul's Work._