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under the circumstances. For a country in ing to any parties” propositions which we the actual position of France, three hundred know them to be incapable, by their circumthousand men may not be too much. But stances or their education, of entertaining; while a sovereign maintains three hundred and he who travels about the world hawking thousand men in arms, and owes little respon- a proposition, with high and sacred names, sibility to anybody in his own country, his for which he cannot find a market, is guilty neighbors ought to be prepared for any possi- either of Quixotic foolishness or of a still more ble turn of royal caprice or necessity. If he degrading hypocrisy. Perhaps it would have might honestly declare that he did not in- been as well if so experienced a diplomatist tend to attack us now, some new turn in affairs as Lord Aberdeen had given to Mr. Cobden might justify him in his own mind six months more directly the benefit of his better knowlhence.

edge, and so, instead of appearing disposed Nor could we expect Louis Napoleon to “ to promote the object,” had at once declared reduce bis army in the face of powers which that there is not the slightest prospect of doing have so recently hesitated to recognize him. anything with it in Europe at the present If we would enable him to effect the reduction, time. we must pass from him to the powers that lie The abstract reasoning of a proposition does more remote from our own frontier, and, as we not suffice to make it reasonable between all do so, probably we shall find the difficulty of ". parties.” If a burglar were breaking into procuring a consent greater. . If we were to his window, Mr. Cobden might bring him the ask Austria to reduce her armies, she might, most incontestable proofs as to the injudiciouswith her position and her views, very reason- ness of his course, even on the principles of ably answer, that it is only by her armies, self-interest. He might prove to demonstradrawn from her several provinces, and then tion that no amount of plunder could in the used against those provinces reciprocally, that long run be profitable ; that honest industry she can hold her empire together. Mr. Cob- is not only the more profitable, but it is the den deprecates the large warlike preparations more healthy and happy course. He might “ in time of peace ; " but in the Austrian prove that the burglar inevitably comes to a domains there is no peace. There is a revolu- bad end ; that thieves do not get on in life; tion kept down by armed force ; and if power and that even the “ fence,” the capitalist of is to be measured by the resistance which that tribe, is liable to the fate of Ikey Solomaintains it in a state of equilibrium, then mons. He might make good these proposiwe can appreciate the civil war tacitly and tions, without any kind of comment at all, by silently going on in Austria by the terrors and his own favorite plan, the exhibition of bluetyrannies that alone preserve the status book statistics. Yet we doubt very much quo.

whether the most cogent argument would inAustria cannot reduce her armies, except- duce the visitor to relinquish either his “jeming under these alternative conditions — the my” or his " barkers.” Abandonment of her provinces ; or

the We incline to believe, that however much abandonment of her principles on the subject the householders of the country at large might of government, in favor of those that Mr. Čob- be in favor of mutual disarmament as between den might offer, ready-made, of English man- citizens and thieves, they would not at all ufacture. But even if, by some miracle of rely upon such friendly negotiations for any conquest over revolution or over herself, she practical purpose. Nay, we suspect that the were quit of internal enemies, how could Aus- worldly wisdom of a gentleman who proposed tria reduce her armaments in the face of her to meet foreign invaders of the household in ally, Russia, who already views with a keen that fashion would not be estimated at a very appetite the Sclavonian provinces ? Before high rate. A man who should go down to Austria can reduce, Russia must reduce ; Cambridge armed with a Colt's revolver, as wherefore, let Mr. Cohden, Mr. Milner Gibson, the instrument for winning the honors of and other members of the deputation, convey Senior Wrangler, would fairly lay himself themselves to St. Petersburg, and lay their open to Mr. Cobden's censures; but if Mr. Cobproposition before the Emperor Nicholas. He den thinks that the weapons of the Anti-Corn will tell them, very politely perhaps, that his law would prove triumphant among the Don army is his empire. Lord Aberdeen, indeed, Cossacks or the Croat, he is under a serious might safely promise to carry out the mission mistake ; which he might discover before he for whose object he avows so much sympathy, had gone half-way to the Banat — or rather, when Mr. Cobden shall have succeeded in con- which somebody else might discover ; for Mr. verting the Emperor Nicholas to the tenets of Cobden's power of reception seems to exist the Peace Association,

only for one species of knowledge. We are On the first blush there is a show of reason only surprised to see Lord Aberdeen half inin this proposition for a reciprocal disarma- clined to accept the post of missionary under ment; but there is nothing rational in convey- Mr Cobden's Anti-War League.

LITTELL’S LIVING AGE.— No. 469.- 14 MAY, 1853.

CONTENTS.

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1. Thackeray's Works,

Westminster Review, . 387 2. Revival of Oil Anointing,

Chambers' Journal, . 401 3. Fragment of the Wreck — concluded,

Blackwood's Magazine, 403 4. Lodgings that would not suit,

Chambers' Journal, 419 5. Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon, Examiner,

423 6. Mankind, from a Bar-maid's Point of View,

Chambers'Journal, 428 7. Human Hair,

Quarterly Review, . 429 8. Tennyson's Ode on Wellington — revised, .

Athenæum,

441 9. Hävernick’s Old Testament; Hengstenberg on the Lord's

443 Day; Connelly's Coming Struggle with Rome, 10. The Liberian Blacksmith,

Chambers' Journal, 445 SHORT ARTICLES : Selling Chickens to the Legislature — Railways Improving, 400 ; New

Antiquities, 402; Venomous Fly - Herb Doctor, 418; Picture of the Condemnation of Marie Antoinette, 422; Mechanical Philosophy Applied, 428 ; Working Man's Way in the World, 444; Wonderful Bone — Great Exhibition, 448.

} Critic,

.

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.

.

LEXINGTON.

Long have they gathered and loud shall they fall ;

Red glares the musket’s flash,

Sharp rings the rifle's crash,
BY OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

Blazing and clanging from thicket and wall. Slowly the mist o'er the meadow was creeping, Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing,

Bright on the dewy buds glistened the sun, Never to shadow his cold brow again ; When from his couch, while his children were Proudly at morning the war-steed was prancing, sleeping,

Reeking and panting he droops on the rein ; Rose the bold rebel and shouldered his gun;

Pale is the lip of scorn,
Waving her golden veil

Voiceless the trumpet horn,
Over the silent dale,

Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high ; Blithe looked the morning on cottage and spire ;

Many a belted breast
Hushed was his parting sigh,

Low on the turf shall rest,
While from his noble eye

Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by. Flashed the last sparkle of liberty's fire.

Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is

raving, On the smooth green where the fresh leaf is springing,

Rocks where the wenry floods murmur and wail,

Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving, Calmly the first-born of glory have met ;

Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale ; Hark! the death-volley around them is ringing ! Look! with their life-blood the young grass is

Far as the tempest thrills

Over the darkened hills,
wet!
Faint is the feeble breath,

Far as the sunshine streams over the plain,

Roused by the tyrant band,
Murmuring low in death,
“ Tell to our sons how their fathers have died ;" Girded for battle, from mountain to main.

Woke all the mighty land,
Nerveless the iron hand,
Raised for its native land,

Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying! Lies by the weapon that gleams at its side. Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest,

While o'er their ashes the starry fold flying Over the hill-sides the wild knell is tolling, Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest. From their far hamlets the yeomanry come ;

Borne on her northern pine, As through the storm-clouds the thunder-burst

Long o'er the foaming brine, rolling,

Sprend her broad banner to storm and to sun ; Circles the beat of the mustering-drum.

Heaven keep her ever free,
Fast on the soldier's path

Wide as o'er land and sea
Darken the waves of wrath ;

Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won. CCCCLXIX. LITING AGL. VOL. I. 25

From the National Era.

poem is descriptive of an incident in the expeAPRIL

rience of some friends of the writer an

experience, or one of a similar nature, quite BY J. G. WHITTIER.

common to all.
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
CHRISTABEL.

THE LITTLE HAND. 'T is the noon of spring-time, but never a bird

Our hut was near the ocean marge, In the wind-shaken elm or maple is heard ;

One summer many a year ago, For green meadow grasses, wide levels of snow,

Where, all around, the huge rocks plunged And blowing of drifts where the crocus should

Their giant forms in deeps below. blow, Where wind-flower and violet, amber and white, We used to see the sun go down By south-sloping brook-sides should smile in the The watery western skies afar, light,

And hail, with eager, childish joy, O'er the cold winter beds of their late waking The light of every new-born star.

roots, The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal shoots ;

Along the beach, among the cliffs, And, longing for light under wind-driven heaps,

Our days in pastime seemed to glide,

As if the hours were made to mark Round the holes of the pine wood the ground laurel creeps

The ebb and flow of ocean's tide. Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, We said : “ Till all our locks are gray, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst Each year in June we ’ll hither roam, into flowers !

And pitch our tent— no other spot We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the South !

Shall be our life-long summer home." The touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy One morn we strolled along the shore, mouth ;

To watch the waves come rolling in ; For the yearly Evangel thou bearest from God, The night had been a night of fear, Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod.

Of thunder crash, and tempest din,
Up our long river valley for days has not ceased
The wail and the shriek of the bitter North-east,

In glee we sang our ocean songs,

As on we moved across the sand Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and

“What's that among the salt sea-weed ?" snow, All the way from the land of the wild Esquimau.

A little, helpless hüman hand! Oh, soul of the spring-time! its balm and its We put the cold, wet grass aside, breath,

The gathering surf we brushed away, 0, light of its darkness, and light of its death! And there, in pallid death's embrace, Why wait we thy coming? Why linger so long A ship wrecked child extended lay. The warmth of thy breathing, the voice of thy

We took it from the murderous wave, song?

Looked once upon the storm-scared eyes, Renew the great miracle! Let us behold

Then scooped a grave where waters moan, The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled,

And oft the wailing sea-bird flies. And Nature, like Lazarus, rise as of old ! Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has The charm had fled — the hut, the cliff, lain,

The beach, so often wandered o'er, Awake with the warmth and the brightness Were poisoned by a lifeless handagain,

We went and we returned no more ! And in blooming of flower, and budding of tree, The symbols and type of our destiny see — The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole,

ON HARMONY.
And, as sun to the sleeping earth, love to the
soul !

When whispering winds do softly steal
With creeping passion through the heart ;

And when at every touch we feel
From the Atlas.

! Our pulses beat, and bear a part ;

When threads can make EVERY one, at some period of life, has felt the utter futility of decidipg, that any place,

A heart-string quake ;

Philosophy no matter how much present happiness arises

Will scarce deny from its proximity, will be always attractive.

The soul can melt in Harmony. Some domestic calamity renders an apartment, once redolent of joy and youthful pleasure,

O lull me, lull me, charming air,

My sense is rocked with wonders sweet ; the darkest spot in the whole mansion, and we

Like snow on wool thy fallings are, turn away from the door with a shudder,

Soft, like spirit's, are thy feet. where, in other days, we entered with a light

Grief who need fear, heart and a song on our lips. A trifle will That hath an ear? sometimes strip a scene of great natural beauty Down let him lie, of all its glories, and hang dark clouds where And slumbering die, only sunshine has lingered. The following And change his soul for harmony.

MARSII.

From the Westminster Review.

Enough, and more than enough, has been THACKERAY'S WORKS.

said and written upon these points; but

among a large section of his readers it has 1. The Paris Sketch Book. By MICHAEL An- long been felt, that it may not have been GELO TITMARSH. 2 vols.

without a purpose that Mr. Thackeray has 2. Comic Tales and Sketches. By M. A. Tir- never endowed his characters with ostenta2 vols. 1841.

tious heroic virtues, or dwelt much on the 3. The Irish Sketch Book. By M. A.TITMARSH. brighter aspects of humanity; that his most 2 vols. 1843.

unsparing ridicule, and his most pungent 4. Vanity Fair. 2 vols. 1848.

delineations of human fully or rice, are not 5. Pendennis. 2 vols. 1850.

tinged by the sour humors of the cynic or 6. The Book of Snobs. 1848.

misanthrope, but that, through bis harshest 7. The History of Henry Esmond, Esq. Writ- tones, there inay be heard the sweet underten by Himself. 3 vols. 1852.

notes of a nature kindly and loving, and a Five years ago, in dedicating the second heart warm and unspoiled, full of sympathy edition of " Jane Eyre” to the author of for goodness and all simple wortlı, and of

Vanity Fair,” Currer Bell spoke of him reverence for all unaffected greatness. thus : – Why have I alluded to this man? Not many years ago, when reputations I have alluded to him, reader, because I which are now effe te were at their zenith, it think I see in him an intellect profounder pen was busy in our periodical literature, in and more unique than his contemporaries which the presence of a power was felt by have yet recognized ; because I regard him those who watched that literature, which as the first social regenerator of the day – as seeined only to want happier circumstances the very master of that working corps who to develop into forms worthy of a permanent would restore to rectitude the warped system place among English classics. Under many of things ; because I think no commentator patronymics, its graphic sketches and original on his writings has yet found the comparison views were ushered into the world. The imthat suits him, the terms which rightly char- mortal Yellowplush, the James de-la-Pluche acterize his talent. They say he is like Field- of a later date, the vivacious George Fitzing; they talk of his wit, humor, comic boodle, the versatile Michael Angelo Titpowers. He resembles Fielding as an eagle marsh, were names well-known and prized does a vulture ; Fielding could stoop on within a limited circle. In Mr. Thackeray's carrion, but Thackeray never does. His wit lucubrations under all these pseudonyms, is bright, his humor attractive, but both bear there was a freshness and force, a truthful. the same relation to his serious genius that ness of touch, a shrewdness of perception, and the mere lambent sheet-lightning, playing a freedom from conventionalism, wdether in under the edge of othe summer-cloud, does to thought or expression, which argued in their the electric death-spark hid in its womb." originator something more akin to genius than When this was written, Mr. Thackeray was to mere talent. Here was a man who looked not the popular favorite he has since become. below the surface of things, taking nothing He counts readers now. by hundreds, where for granted, and shrinking from no scrutiny then he only counted tens. In those days, of human motives, however painful; who Currer Bell's panegyric was pronounced ex- saw clearly and felt deeply, and who spoke travagant by many who now, if they do not out his thought manfully and well. In an. echo, will at least scarcely venture to dispute age of pretence, he had the courage to be it; but it may be doubted whether, up to simple. To strip sentimentalism of its fripthe present tiine, full justice has been done pery, pretension of its tinsel, vanity of its by any of Mr. Thackeray's critics to the pe- masks, and humbug literary and social of its culiar genius of the man, or to the purpose disguises, appeared to be the vocation of this with which his later books have been written. graphic satirist. The time gave bim work It is not, indeed, to the Press that he owes to do in abundance, and manifestly neither the appreciation which it is probable he values skill nor will were wanting in him for the most. Its praise has generally been coup- task. Best of all, he did not look down upon led with censure for what has occupied his his fellow-men from those heights of contempt most deliberate thought, and been conceived and scorn, which make satirists commonly the with the most earnest purpose. While it most hateful as well as the most profitless of hus extolled his wit, his keen eye, his graphic writers. The band that was mailed to smite style, his trenchant sarcasm, his power of had an inward side soft to caress. He claimed esposing, cant and Pharisaisın in all its po superiority, arrogated for himself no pecuphases, it has, at the same time, been loud liar exemption from the vices and follies he in its outcry against the writer's cynicism satirized; he had his own mind to clear of capt and want of faith, the absence of heroism as well as his neighbors', and professed to and elevation in his characters — the foibles know their weak side only through a conof all his women, the vices of all his men. sciousness of his own. . Just as he proclaimed himself as Mr. Snob, par excellence, when " Amours of Mr. Deuceace!" The Hon. writing of the universal snobbishness of suciety Algernon Percy Deuceace himself — his amisat a later date, so in the “Confessions of ble father, the Earl of Crabs, Mr. Blewitt Fitzboodle,” or “ The Yellowplush Papers,"' where in literature shall we find such a trio of he made no parade of being one whit wiser, scoundrels, so distinct in their outlines, so unpurer, or more disinterested than other people. mistakably true in all their tints? How perfect Relentless of foppery, falsehood, and rascality, too, as portraits, are Dawkins, the pigeon, of however ingeniously smoothed over or con- whom Deuceace and Blewitt, well-trained cealed, he was not prone to sneer at frailty, hawks, make so summary a meal, and Lady where it laid no claiın to strength, or folly Griffin, the young widow of Sir George Griffio, where it made no pretence of wisdom. The K.C.B., and her ugly step-daughter Matilda vices of our modern social life were the stand- No one can question the probability of all the ing marks for the shafts of his ridicule, but incidents of the story: Such things are haphere and there, across his pages, there shot pening every day. Young fools like Dawkins gleams of a more pleasing light, which showed fall among thieves like Deuceace and Blewitt, how eagerly the lynx-eyed observer hailed and the same game of matrimonial speculation the presence of goodness and candor, and gen- is being played daily, which is played with erosity, whenever they crossed his path. such notable results by Deuceace and Miss

That he may, in those days, have thought Matilda Griffin. The accomplished swindler them rarer than his subsequent experience has is ever and anon caught like him, the fond proved, is more than probable ; and, indeed, silly woman as constantly awakened like her, this circumstance gave to many of his earlier out of an insane dream, to find herself the sketches a depth of shade, which leaves an slave of cowardice and brutality. Villany so impression on the mind all the more painful, cold, so polished, so armed at all points, as froin the terrible force with which the tints that of the Earl of Crabs, is more rare ; but are dashed in. No man ever sketched the men learn by bitter experience, that there are varieties of scoundrelisın or folly with more in society rascals equally agreeable and equally force than Yellowplush or Fitzboodle, but we unredeemed. There is no vulgar daubing in cannot move long among fools and scoundrels the portraiture of all these worthies ; - the without disgust. In these sketches, the lines are all true as life itself, and bitten into shadows of life are too little relieved for them the page as it were with vitriol. Every touch to be either altogether true to nature, or bears the trace of a master's hand, and yet tolerable as works of art. We use them as what man ever cared to return to the book, studies of character, but, this purpose served, what woman ever got through it without a are fain to put them aside forever after. sensation of humiliation and disgust? Both Hence, no doubt, it was that these vigorous would wish to believe the writer untrue to sketches, at the time they appeared, missed nature, if they could; both would willingly the popularity which was being won by far forego the exhibition of what, under the inferiur works; and hence, too, they will aspect in which it is here shown, is truly never becoine popular even among those " that hideous sight, a naked human heart." whom Mr. Thackeray's subsequent writings Of all Mr. Thackeray's books this is, perhave made his warmest adınirers. Bring haps, the most open to the charge of sneering them to the touchstone whose test all delinea- cynicism, and yet even here glimpses of that tions of life must bear, to be worthy of lasting stern but deep pathos are to be found, of repute — the approval of a woman's mind and which Mr. Thackeray has since proved himtaste — and they are at once found to fail. self so great a master. We can even now Men will read them, and smile or ponder as remember the mingled sensation of shudderthey read, and, it may be, reap lessons useful ing pity and horror, with which the conclusion for after needs ; but a woman lays down the of this story years ago impressed us. Deuceace, book, feeling that it deals with characters and expecting an immense fortune with Miss Matilsituations, real perhaps, but which she can da Griffin, who, on her part, believes him to be gain nothing by contemplating: No word, in possession of a fine income, marries her ; image, or suggestion, indeed, is there to offend the marriage having been managed by his her modesty — for, in this respect, Mr. Thack- father, the Earl of Crabs, in order that he eray in all his writings has shown that rever- may secure Lady Griffin for himself, with all ence for womanhood and youth, which satir- Miss Griffin's fortune, which falls to her ists have not often maintained ;- but just as ladyship, in the event of Matilda marrying there are many things in life which it is best without her consent. Lady Griffin has prenot to know, so in these pictures of tainted viously revenged herself for the Honorable humanity there is much to startle the faith, Algernon's slight of her own attachment to and to disquiet the fancy, without being him, by involving him in a duel with a Frenchatoned for by any commensurate advantage. man, in which he loses his right hand. The With what admirable force, for example, are marriage once concluded, Deuceace and his all the characters etched in Yellowplush's I wife find their mutual mistake, and the penni.

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