CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF "CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE,"
"CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE," &c.

NUMBER 507.

CRIME.

LAWS, with respect to moral acts, may be said to take their rise in the sentiments of the majority of mankind. Most men feeling the benefit of possessing property, it is natural for them to declare against all which may tend to deprive them of it otherwise than by their own consent and for their own benefit: hence laws against robbery and theft. Most men being also anxious for the continuance of life, it is not less natural for them to declare against all which may tend to deprive them of that possession : hence laws against assault and murder. All other portions of the criminal jurisprudence of nations could in like manner be traced to what is the natural strain of the human mind with regard to the particular objects contemplated. The generality of men feel in a particular manner on those points, and they fashion the laws accordingly.

In making the laws, they contemplate the fact that a minority-fortunately at all times and every where a very small minority—are liable, from natural disposition, from corruption of manners, or from the pressure of circumstances, to act in opposition to the general sentiment. Their object is to prevent such acts, as far as possible, in order that they may each enjoy his own in the greater security. The question remains, by what means may law-that is, regulation by the majority-ensure the most effectual suppression of the dreaded tendencies of the minority.

The first impulse is to inflict punishment-to assign imprisonment, whipping, banishment, for the smaller offences, and death itself for the greater-for it is natural, in a comparatively low moral and intellectual condition, or under strong resentment, to come to the conclusion that one outrageous or cruel act deserves another. At first, it is deemed only fair to repay to the criminal the injuries he has committed, and no one pretends to be animated by any but vindictive views. In time, however, society becomes sufficiently enlightened and humane to be ashamed of such notions, and the same system is then followed under the pretext solely of a wish for the prevention of crime. At length comes a time when the efficiency of the punishing system for this end is questioned, and some begin to surmise that crime might be more thoroughly repressed if society were to take expedients of a much gentler nature.

We-the British nation-have arrived at this stage. It is now generally acknowledged amongst us, that, by extending the moral agencies of religion and education, by taking the outcast, especially of the juvenile class, under protection, and endeavouring to take advantage of the captivity of criminals to work in them a moral reformation, a vast amount of tendency to crime would be at once put an end to. Some go a little further, and see that minor punishments, as imprisonment (in its usual circumstances) and all kinds of personal inflictions, only harden the criminal and fix him in his evil course; while the punishment of death not only puts his reformation entirely out of the question, and is itself a horrible outrage upon all benevolent feeling, but tends to brutalise rather than to work any improvement in society. Still these persons are much perplexed by old prejudices on this subject, and generally express great difficulty as to the total abolition of punishment. They feel as if it would be rash to trust their protection from murder, and some of the other higher crimes, to any thing but the terrors of the rope. Possibly some remnant of the generally disowned vindictive feeling mingles itself with the views of this class, unconsciously to themselves, and helps to indispose them for receiving the

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1841.

full light. On the present occasion, taking it for
granted that much tendency to crime might be anti-
cipated by moral agencies, we shall address ourselves
to the difficulties which are still generally felt with
regard to the giving up of punishment (as such) in
the case of actual offenders.

Criminals are of three leading orders--those who act
under the influence of temporarily pressing circum-
stances; those who are depraved by a bad moral atmo-
sphere; and those who do evil in obedience to the
promptings of natural inclinations. Supposing that a
reformatory system were adopted with all, we have to
consider what would be its probable effect, in the first
place, on the criminals themselves, and, in the second
place, in the way of preventing crime in others.

There cannot be a doubt that those who have com-
mitted crime under the influence of some transient
temptation, would require but little of a reformatory
discipline to fit them for going back into society. In
their case, generally, exposure would act as a severe
punishment, and the chief difficulty would be to pre-
vent them from being made worse by the sense of
degradation. If such be the case, we cannot doubt
that the very fear of the notice of the law would serve
to prevent crime in this class, as far as any warning
can be supposed to operate to that effect.

With regard to those who are depraved by a bad
moral atmosphere, it be safely predicated that
they would be restored to virtue whenever as great a
power had been exerted to correct and improve, as
had previously been exercised to corrupt and pervert.
The experience of all humane prison systems goes to
prove,
with respect to this class, that they are more
willing to be good than bad, when made fully sensible
of the evil of their former courses, and shown a means
of living thereafter in innocence. It is but natural
that this should be the case. The whole social world
is constituted on the principle of making the innocent
course alone agreeable, and introducing uneasiness,
vexation, annoyance unspeakable, wherever there is
an attempt to pursue a contrary career. How, then,
should a fairly constituted mind not be disposed to
prefer a virtuous life, if at all practicable? It would
only be wonderful if the case were otherwise.

Supposing criminals of this class to be put under
the wholesome restraint and discipline of a right re-
formatory system, what would be the effect upon
others of the same class as yet free to follow vicious
courses? Unquestionably, as we think, it would have
any thing but the effect of encouraging them in
wickedness. In this class, vice is only supported by
the contemplation of vice. Debauchery and whimsical
figurative language encourage it, but it shrinks from
the idea of being subjected to sober moral influences.
It would regard the quiet of the reformatory cell, the
monotonous labour, and the discipline of the parson
and schoolmaster, with horror, until the time per-
chance arrived when it was to experience the benefit
of being subjected to them. Those who know crimi-
nals best would, we believe, be the readiest to own
that they would be more ready, while in freedom, to
scoff at the lash or the gallows, than at the tame
but wholesome kind of life led in the reformatory.

It is also to be remarked, with regard to this class, that it is that which mainly constitutes what may be called the standing army of criminals. It is a definite and well-marked portion of the community, capable of being reduced in numbers, if not altogether extinguished, by the seclusion of the individuals composing it. Its being kept up in its present force is mainly to be ascribed to the penal system, for, when one is taken up, sharply punished, and set free again, he immediately returns to his place in the ranks, probably a

PRICE THREE HALFPENCE.

much more dangerous person than before. If, instead of some transient punishment, he were subjected to a reforming discipline, he would be one lost to the corps and regained for society. The utter extinction of the class, for the time being, would apparently depend simply on the seclusion of old members being conducted more expeditiously than the enlisting of new

ones.

We have here directly addressed the sense which society may be supposed to have of its own interest. But we may also argue the case on the plea of justice, having faith that nothing which is not just can be in the main expedient. If all well-constituted minds are equally liable to sudden temptation-and this is a proposition which few will gainsay-how can it be consistent with justice for those who have chanced to be exempt therefrom to fall upon the one unfortunate being in whose hands evil has chanced to fall? If it be in the course of providence that some, through no demerits of their own, are exposed to vitiating contacts, and others not, can it be just in those who are not to inflict vengeance on those who are? Many a good man, in consenting to a punishment being inflicted upon some ill-fated fellow-creature, who, if placed in his own circumstances, might have been as innocent as he, must have felt the secret monitor whispering that it was scarcely just. Nothing but the sophistication of wrong doctrines could steel-a humane or just bosom against such whisperings. If the more fortunate were to take the less under his care, and endeavour to amend him, and fit him for doing better in future, he would be acting in the spirit of a true brotherly love; but to lay the hand of vengeance upon him is manifestly to act in the spirit of one of the rudest tendencies of our nature. The very habit of acting under such motives must have a degrading and corrupting tendency on society itself.

We now come to consider the class consisting of persons who have natural inclinations of a kind tending to the commission of crime. It may well be supposed that we have here arrived at the most difficult part of the question; yet we hope to show that it is not incapable of a solution consistent with humane views of criminal jurisprudence.

This class comprehends two sorts of persons considerably different from each other, though the difference does not tell much in the result. One set have brains perfectly healthy; the other have diseased brains.

The public of late years have heard much of the heads of criminals being observed by the disciples of Dr Gall to be disproportionately large in the posterior, and small in the upper and anterior portions, supporting the views of that philosophical school with regard to different parts of the brain being endowed with different functions, and seeming to prove hat the impulses towards crime reside in the part of the head behind the ear. Of the fact that an immense majority of the criminals of the class under our notice have heads of this general form, there can, we believe, be as little doubt as there may be with respect to any other philosophical truth established by extensive observation. But that we are therefore to conclude that nature herself produces ready-made criminals, does not seem to us so clear. Our best feelings revolt from such a conclusion, and with good reason, for the idea

the Author of nature. How, then, are we to reconcile with these designs the admitted fact, that there are brains which more readily fall into crime than others? Simply on this principle, that in the business of the world there is much rough work to be done, many coarse obstacles to be overcome, many noxious things,

is inconsistent with all that we know of the designs of

STRAY CHAPTERS FROM MY JOURNALS.
BY CAPTAIN BASIL HALL, R.N., F.R.S.

THE DESCENT.

or things which, in their degree, or the circumstances most, that they will be generally read with a consider-
in which they exist, become noxious, to be put an able degree of hesitation. Yet they have also some
end to, or thrust aside. There is need for the experience on their side. In Belgium, where capital
butcher, the pioneering back-woodsman, the exter-punishments were in the course of gradual abolition
minator of vermin, as well as for the gentle scholar during ten years subsequent to the last peace, there
and the ingenious artist. The gross brains may be was in that time a proportionate decrease of the
supposed to have been fashioned for the performance crimes which had formerly been visited with capital
of duties like these; and, with a right system of social punishment. It may take long time to bring the in-
arrangements, they would be solely applied to such fluential classes of our own country to adopt the same
purposes, and, expending their energy thereon, be in- plan; but the increasing humanity and sound judg-
nocent with regard to all other things. This is a view ment of the people make its ultimate adoption certain.
which may any day be subjected to the test of experi- Happy times will it be for those who live when so-
ment. Take any man with destructive tendencies, such ciety can have the magnanimity to refrain from the
as generally become criminals, and, putting a proper instant punishment of its erring members, and when
instrument into his hand, set him to the clearing away the lash, the fetter, and the rope, shall be exchanged
of brushwood, and he will be found at the end of his for the infinitely more powerful chastisement of a
task to be much tamed. The enormous superabundant moral discipline and the soothing measures of a kind
energy given him by his large posterior lobe will have physician !*
exhausted itself, and he will be as happy and peaceable
as an ordinary tradesman at the end of his day's
traffic. The master of a Deaf and Dumb Institution
in America, who was troubled with an inmate whom
nothing could keep from breaking furniture out of
pure mischief, set him at length to the cutting up of
wood for firing in the cellar, and thus effectually sub-
dued the inclination. It may be held, then, as a
chance misapplication of this class of brains, when
crime is wrought by them. Society ought to keep
these persons employed in such a way and under such
circumstances, as to save them from the risk of ex-
pending their energies criminally, and it would then
not suffer from them. For the finely poised moral
brains to take the coarse and ill-balanced ones by the
nape, and punish them for what is to them as natural
as it is for the good brains to dictate the most generous
acts, appears such an anomaly, that we altogether
despair of finding terms that can be fitly applied to it.
With regard to those who come to crime through
insanity or disease of brain, the law itself recognises
that the cause should serve as an excuse for the
offence; but far too narrow views are taken with re-
spect to the manifestations of insanity. Unless the
criminal show an utter intellectual incoherence, the
plea of insanity does not hold. Now, there is not only
an insanity which shows itself in confusion of ideas
and imbecility of conduct, but there is also an insanity
of the moral faculties, or of some one or more of them,
while no confusion or weakness is betrayed by the
intellect. Examples occur every day of persons of
perfectly sound intellect, and whose circumstances
place them above all need, being totally unable to re-
strain themselves from appropriating trifles not their
own. Mrs May Drummond, a Quaker lady of such
enthusiastic benevolence that she preached through
all England to raise money for the building of an in-
firmary in Edinburgh, could not help pocketing silver
spoons at the houses of her friends. So also there are
instances of individuals who, while performing all the
ordinary functions of civil life, become possessed with
an incontrollable desire to commit murder.

In 1805,

a man was tried at Norwich for wounding his wife and cutting his child's throat. So clear was his intellect up to the time of the offence, that he had tied his arms with ropes for a week to prevent himself from doing mischief to himself and others. Georget mentions the case of a woman who consulted him with regard to an irresistible propensity which she felt to kill her children-an inclination for which she abhorred herself, but which she was nevertheless unable to control, so that she had to fly from her house to avoid doing the contemplated deed. Many similar cases might be adduced, but for our desire of being brief. From want of distinction on these points, many culprits are subjected to condign punishment, who, under a more enlightened code, would be considered as only moral invalids-many a man has been put to death by an association of sane deliberate persons, merely because of an undue determination of blood to some particular part of his brain. A rheumatism is pitied; consumption brings all the charities of life round the bed of the sufferer. But if a small part of his brain goes out of order, and he consequently offends against the laws, the people in a sound state instantly fall upon him without mercy, and put him scientifically out of existence. There is an obvious need for more enlarged views as to the plea of insanity. An acknowledgment of the possibility of moral derangement independent of the intellect, is, above all things, and in the first place, necessary.

For the whole of the third class of criminals, the humane system proposes the same treatment as for the two other classes. It is held to be a duty of society, in the first place, to take a charge of those whose brains, whether from a disproportionate natural endowment or from disease, put them into more than the usual likelihood of committing crime. If this care fails, and an offence is committed, it is the duty of society to take the culprit more strictly in charge, to use every means for the correction and improvement of his nature, and not again to place him at freedom so long as there is any reason to fear for his conduct. In the measures taken for his cure, there would be enough to deter others of his own class from committing crime, so far as they are capable of being operated upon by terror. A whole man would greatly dislike being drugged and blistered as a sick one; just so would any of the persons we allude to look with alarm to the treatment employed in curing his brethren.

These views involve so much of what is novel to

appears

inferior

below; and although this is exactly what theory and many analogous observations would have led us to expect, still it proved almost as interesting, and in some respects more so, to find that the actual facts were consistent with antecedent reasoning, as if they had been different. It ought ever to be remembered, that there is such a wonderful uniformity in the operations of nature, that we may always count upon the same phenomena recurring when the circumstances are alike; and therefore, when we find such confirmations of theory as that above noticed, we may safely lay them up in store as certain truths rightly deduced, and freely proceed to the investigation of others. So long, however, as actual observation has not confirmed the truth of even the most plausible, and, as it might seem, self-evident hypothesis, there can be no absolute certainty.

The wind was quite light and balmy, and all the clouds lay very still, except here and there where a very slight motion among their parts could be perceived. Over the islands of Gomera, Lanzerota, Ferro, and the Grand Canary, the stratum of clouds rose somewhat higher, or was bulged up a little, and occasionally broken and rolled up, as it were, which gave NEXT to the curious aspect of the clouds, spread out the places under which those islands rested less the at the distance of more than a mile below us, and the appearance of a level country covered with snow, than strange bird's-eye view of the islands, peeped at through belonged to the other parts of this aerial landscape, if holes from aloft, and surrounded by a polished, wavethat term may be used. As the sun gained a higher less, glass-like sea, I think the most striking circum- altitude, these openings or peep-holes through the stance was the great apparent elevation of the horizon-clouds became wider, and we observed a singular and a singular deception, which admits, I think, of a simple beautiful appearance which they assumed. The upper explanation. The angle subtended at the eye, by the stratum of clouds remained, as already described, space between the horizon of the sea and the nadir or nearly horizontal; the next layer, though it appeared point directly under our feet, though, in strictness, it to be detached at a considerable distance, lay also be the same, or nearly the same, as that between the horizontally, the connexion being maintained between horizon and the zenith, appears to the senses, under the two by some mysterious vertical bars or rays of ordinary circumstances, to be much smaller. But semi-transparent clouds, of exceeding delicacy in their when we ascend to great elevations, the immense dis- structure, and bright in colour. From this second tance to which the bounding line of our view is carstratum there hung down, in vast festoons nearly to ried off, has the natural effect of appearing greatly to the water, as it appeared to us (though possibly this augment the angle between our nadir and the horizon. may have been merely a deception), a thin volume of Consequently, the first impulse of the senses is to clouds, of irregular shapes, strangely diversified with ascribe this change of appearance to the cause most lights and shades, according to their own peculiar familiar to us; that is, to an actual elevation of the form, and to the situation and magnitude of the horizontal line, as in the case of mountain scenery higher clouds interposed between them and the sun's viewed from a distance. When standing, therefore, rays. These appearances were modified at some places on the top of Teneriffe, we felt as if we had been placed by reflections from the sea, in such a manner as in the centre of a great bowl, the brim of which, at greatly to augment their picturesque effect. Some of the distance of a hundred and forty miles, seemed to these drooping or ringlet-shaped clouds being susbe turned up some thousands of feet. Such was the pended over a part of the ocean which happened to lie appearance of things; but only the appearance; for quite smooth like a mirror, the reflected images of the the dip or depression of the horizon incident to the clouds seemed to prolong the festoons downwards, but curvature of the earth, when viewed from the Peak in so confused a way, that at some places we could being nearly 2 degrees (strictly 1 degree 57 minutes), scarcely tell which was cloud and which water, nor the truth of the matter is the very reverse of what it distinguish where the reflections commenced. It also to be; since the horizon, instead of being occurred to us that the images which we saw in the neath the stratum of clouds above which we stood, raised, is really a good deal lower than when seen from water might be reflected from something lying under I had carried with me Dr Wollaston's dip-sector, and which consequently was concealed from our direct an instrument devised by that ingenious philosopher, view. To these varieties there was no end; and all for the purpose of measuring the amount by which the distances being great, and the whole scene totally the visible horizon is actually depressed below the new, we could employ no scale to measure the perspechorizontal plane passing through the observer's eye. tive by, or to tell us properly what we were looking I found, however, that the edge of the sea, when removed to such a vast distance, was much too indistinet to admit of accurate observation in a reflecting instrument. Possibly at some other hour of the day just before sunrise or just after sunset-the horizon might be sufficiently sharp and well-defined to allow of the reflected and direct images being brought into We could discover the birthplaces, and trace line, which is the object aimed at in this delicate and the courses, of a great many eruptions of lava. Some rather difficult observation. I would therefore strongly of these appeared merely to have oozed out of the sides recommend future observers to repeat experiments of the mountain, in so viscid a state as soon to have which might be attended with more success, and could become stagnant. Some had evidently flowed along not fail, if carefully made, to afford some curious and at a brisk rate, and in a state of fusion so thin as to perhaps some useful results. It would probably turn enable them to surmount all the intervening obstacles, out, for example, that the horizon was differently eleand to proceed over hills and dales, and right across vated at one place from what it was at another; and older streams of lava, in straight lines, just as mountain that, instead of being, as it appears to the senses, a torrents of water do when swollen by sudden inundations. Others, again, more gentle in their course, uniform circle lying in one plane, it forms a curve, waving up and down according to the different states probably from the supply of molten matter being of temperature and density in the strata of the at- smaller, had followed the inclination of the ground, mosphere through which the rays from the horizon and in place of dashing over the tops of the hills, or pass to the eye. A zenith sector, carefully levelled other obstacles on their path, had consented to find a and fixed on the top of the Peak, with its telescope way round them. The colour, magnitude, shape, directed to the horizon, and then swept gradually length, and inclination of these streams of lava, were round, would accomplish the purpose still better, as very dissimilar. The difference in colour was no doubt will be obvious to persons accustomed to the use of partly caused, though I suspect only in part, by the these two instruments. The dip sector, by its nature, difference of the time which may have elapsed between makes use of the two opposite parts of the horizon; the epochs in which they had flowed respectively. It and the assumption is that these parts are both simi- was evident, indeed, on examining closely some of these larly and equally affected by atmospheric refraction, streams, which were composed of the same ingredients, which may be quite contrary to fact. But in using an that in the lapse of ages some had acquired slight altitude and azimuth circle, or any instrument moving coatings of lichen, while some bore only certain incitruly on a vertical axis, the different degrees of eleva-pient traces of decomposition which precede this scanty tion of the different parts of the horizon (if any vegetation. Besides this cause of difference in their existed) would be readily detected. external tints, there occurred great differences in the actual nature of the lavas themselves. Some exhibited, when broken, a black grain, others a dark grey, and many approached to a dirty red. These varieties in the component parts of the lavas flowing from the same mountain would seem to point to some deepseated and wide-spread source of the volcanic agency

The thermometer, during our stay on the Peak, never fell below 69 degrees, and it rose occasionally above 70 degrees. The wind, during the whole time we were at the top, blew from the south-west, exactly in the opposite direction to that of the trade-wind

at.

On turning from these beautiful objects in the distance, so evanescent and uncertain in their nature, and directing our eyes to the more solid scenery of the actual volcano lying at our feet, as different a set of phenomena as it is possible to conceive, presented them

selves.

attention a recent pamphlet entitled "Criminal Jurisprudence might seem, from mortal ken. The geologist's line and
*On the subject of this paper we would recommend to generallying far within the bowels of the earth, and hid, as it
Considered in Relation to Mental Organisation. By M. B. Samp- plummet, however, may yet reach the bottom: by
son. London: Samuel Highley, Fleet Street." The arguments patient observation, chastised by an honest course of
in the above paper relative to diseased brains are a condensation philosophical induction, he may well hope to arrive at
of Mr Sampson's views. We claim as originating with ourselves
those respecting the final cause of what has come to be called the
the laws which regulate many of the interior operations
criminal type of head.
of our planet.

The present Peak is probably running the same course with its predecessor, of which we see such magnificent remains. Eruptions break out from time to time from its sides, occasionally near the top, but generally lower down. These openings send forth streams which flow over the ancient currents, fill up the valleys, and obliterate all the minor cones in their way; in short, gradually swell out the mountain, by the application of fresh coatings of lava, scoriæ, and ashes. While this is going on, the great crater is probably vomiting forth smoke, ashes, and pumice-stones, or deluging the sides of the island with torrents of boiling mud, which in due season become so hard, that the red-hot lavas which flow over them bake them in strata of tufa.

The pent-up vapours within the breast of the volcano, besides projecting these varied materials, possess sometimes force enough to rend the mountain across, and the cracks formed by such heavings are of course instantly filled up by the fluid lava supplied from within. When these walls or dykes, filling the rents, are consolidated, they form ribs, or rather plates, of solid rock, bracing the whole fabric firmly together, and rendering a superior degree of expansive force necessary at each successive eruption, to tear the mountain open again.

We did not explore the interior of the crater, but satisfied ourselves with clambering along the wall or parapet by which it is enclosed. The sulphurous vapours which rose from it, as well as the numerous little jets of steam from crevices near the top of the cone, indicated plainly enough that, although this volcano has slumbered for a long time, he keeps his matches lighted, and is probably all ready for action at a moment's warning. It is very pleasant to speculate on geological phenomena in the actual presence of such a panorama of facts, while the ground is actually hot under our feet, and fumes from the very furnace are filling our nostrils. But we could not remain long, and turned to come away only half satisfied, feeling but too distinctly that we were doing no justice whatever to such a subject, and ashamed to think how little we had profited by an opportunity so fertile in materials for inquiry.

We came down the side of the cone, or piton, at a great rate. No one appeared the least afraid of falling, and some of the party ran down the whole way. I had forgot to mention, that before we quitted the top of the Peak, we succeeded, boy fashion, in rolling over several great rocks as big as a millstone; and it almost made us shudder to notice the furious velocity The grand sight, they acquired in their descent. however, was the prodigious crash with which, after having descended along the steep face of the cone about six hundred perpendicular feet, they were driven against the cliffs below, and shivered not merely into small pieces, but dissipated in a sort of cloud of powder, high into the air, and far over the ground to the right and left. I tried, with perfect success, on the steep face of ashes, the plan taught me by the guides of Mont Blanc, how to slide, or glisser, as they call it, down the snow, by help of a baton or pole, about six feet long. This is held by both hands, one being high up and near the top, the other grasping the pole within about a foot of the lower extremity. The spike with which the end is armed, being thrust into the snow, is kept somewhat higher up the bank than the traveller's feet. As it is thus quite easy to increase or diminish the amount of friction, by raising or depressing the upper end of the pole, it is quite safe to descend along a loose surface so steep that a goat would hardly attempt to come down. The only danger we were exposed to, was from the stones dislodged by the feet of those of the party who were highest up, rolling down on those below them.

On our recrossing the Mal Pays, we turned a little to one side, nearly at the centre of this rugged bit of rocky ground, to examine a very curious cave halffilled with ice. The temperature without was upwards of 70 degrees of Fahrenheit; but, though the sun shone directly into the cavern, the snow, which was lying in pyramidal heaps on the bottom, did not appear to be melting. I also particularly remarked, that on the surface of the pool of water surrounding these piles of snow, there floated a thin coating of ice, apparently in the act of forming. Not above a couple of hundred yards from this natural ice-house, we had found as natural a tea-kettle, that is to say, a crevice in the rock emitting steam at the boiling-pitch.

While on my right I could behold
My mistress comb her locks of gold.
So sweet her looks, so bright her eyes,
That I was forced aloud to say,"

"Retreat, immortals, to your skies;
Her beauty must o'er all hold sway.'
As when fair Phoebe on the night

Pours out her rich and smiling ray,
And darkling dwells each lesser light,
Bright only when she is away;
So did my fair love's look repress
The sun, and make his radiance less;
And he, in anger, grief, and spite,
Would not to man his face display.

"

Whereat I cried, "Sun, thou dost right;
Her beauty must o'er all hold sway.'
Yet deep the joy I felt at heart,

When once more shone the god of day!
Jealous to see him erst depart,

I deem'd him stricken by love's ray.
And err'd I? No; had she been seen
By mortal, grieved should I have been.
Ought I not then to fear the gods,
And, undervaluing them, to say,
"Retreat, retreat to your abodes;
Her beauty must o'er all hold sway."

Francis, who flourished betwixt the years 1494 and 1547, was succeeded by his son Henry II., inheritor of a portion of his father's taste for poesy and letters. Some fragments of verse composed by him have been preserved. Perhaps these would not have been worthy of noticing, had we not been playing Horace Walpole in an humble way to all these royal and noble poets of France. As the case stands, we give a few lines from Henry to his favourite, Diana of Poictiers.

SONNET.

Oh, my fair princess! never was there sworn
To new crown'd sovereign a firmer faith,
Than my love is, which nor by time nor death,
From thy possession ever can be torn.
Deep-sunken fosses and strong-builded towers,
The fortress of my heart requireth not;

I gave you there a queen's and ruler's powers,

And change can never in that place be wrought.
Through gold its constancy can ne'er depart;
A cause so worthless moves no gentle heart.

Perhaps our next specimen is the most remarkable of all these pieces. Charles IX. succeeded to the throne in 1560, and died in 1574, at the age of twentyfour. His brief reign was signalised only by ill, and chiefly by the dreadful massacre of St Bartholomew. Yet we have indubitable proof that this young sovereign was naturally of gentle inclinations, and a lover of the refined arts. At the early age of fourteen, he addressed the following pointed and intellectual lines, among others, to his friend, Ronsard, the poet :

TO RONSARD.

Thy spirit is more gay, Ronsard, than mine,
But, young and strong, my frame excelleth thine;
Although in knowledge I fall thee below,
By as much as my spring excels thy snow.
The poet's art, when fittingly pursued,
More rev'rently than the monarch's should be view'd.
We both possess a crown; but what I owe
To others, thou on others dost bestow
Thy spirit, kindled by a spark divine,
Shines of itself, while but through rank I shine.
Inquire I how the gods our merits rate-
Thou art their favourite, I their delegate.
Thy lyre, which pours so ravishing a lay,
Subjects men's minds; bodies alone I sway:
It causeth thee to enter, and to reign,
Where fiercest tyrants ne'er to power attain.
Hearts own its softening sway, nor Beauty less:
I can give death to man, thou deathlessness.

These reflections, it will be admitted, coming from a youth of fourteen, and one seated on a great throne in mere childhood, indicate a mind of no common power, and would lead us to the belief, that the dark blot on the reign of Charles is to be ascribed mainly to the evil influence of others on the pliable mind of youth.

Far better known than any of the preceding royal compositions, is a song of Henry IV., a prince too well known in history for his commingled greatness and failings, to require any lengthened notice here. The song is addressed to the "Charming Gabrielle" d'Estrées, and, with the music adapted to it, has long been in universal favour in France. The succinctness and polish of the original are not transferable to another tongue. We confess that a rude draught of it is all which we are able to lay before the reader. The difficulty of the case may apologise for this imperfection, while the great celebrity of the piece must form our excuse for attempting a version at all.

SONG.

Charming Gabrielle,
Pierced by many a dart
Am I, when Glory's knell
Bids me to war depart.

Oh parting most unkind,
Thrice unhappy day!
Can life no ending find,

Or love not cease its sway?
Bright planet which I leave,
Leave-oh thought of pain!
But more and more I grieve-
For death or thee again!
Partake with me my crown,
The prize of valour's art;
Through war won with renown,
Hold thou it through my heart.
I would the trumpet's sound
Each moment should repeat,
Till echo rings around,
These words so sadly sweet:

THERE is an astonishing number of people in the
world who pass their lives in expecting something;
which something, very commonly, turns out in the end
to be nothing. Massey Gordon Lister was a gentleman
in this predicament; he was always expecting some
thing, from the day he quitted college to the day he
stept into his grave; which last event he had not
expected at all, and for which, it may be reasonably
suspected, he was no ways prepared.

that might never be of any use to him." He therefore quitted Oxford, and returned to his parents, in due season, with a very fair character, but without having distinguished himself in any branch of study whatever. As a young man at twenty years of age, living at home, having nothing to do, and doing nothing, always ap pears out of his place-a sort of unhealthy excrescence on the family tree-Mr and Mrs Lister felt much disposed to send him abroad to travel for a couple of years, and the young man was very well inclined to go: it was agreed on all hands that it would be an advantageous way of filling up the interval that might elapse before he got something, and accordingly preparations were made for his departure. But it unfortunately happened, just at this crisis, that one of the most influential of the Gordons, chancing to pass through the village, stopped to take a luncheon at the vicarage; and on hearing what was in contemplation, observed, that he thought it a pity a young man, at Lister's age, should spend two years in wandering over the continent, where he was not likely to learn any thing that would be useful in his future calling. "For my part," said he, "I don't like your travelled puppies. I like a home education."

"But if a young man is intended for the diplomatic line, or for the army," said Mrs Lister, "don't you think seeing foreign countries an advantage?"

"Oh, if you have prospects of that sort for him," replied Mr Gordon, drily, "it alters the case; I was not aware that his future career was determined on.'

"Bless me! neither is it," cried Mrs Lister, in alarm; ("for," said she to herself, "I have no doubt he means to do something for him himself; it will never do to let him go away under the persuasion that he is already provided for.) Oh dear, no," added she, "we have no prospects of the sort for him, nor are we wedded to any particular line of life; he has been educated in a way that will enable him, with a little study, to take up any thing that may offer;" and Mr Gordon said, "he thought it very right that a young man should be prepared for any thing that might turn up."

"It is quite evident," said Mrs Lister, when he was gone, addressing her son-"it is quite evident that he means to put you into the church; and that is why he does not approve of your going abroad. His notions are rather strict, I know; and he thinks you may lead a gayer life than would be consistent with so serious a destination. We must therefore give up the continental expedition, and wait a little till we commend your devoting your attention to theological see what turns up. In the mean time, I would restudies more than you have hitherto done. My cousin Gordon has some very good preferments in his gift; and, you may rely on it, he will do something for you."

Massey Gordon did rely on it; but time rolled on, year after year slipt by, and nothing came. He had Massey Gordon Lister-we give him all his style had two or three glimpses of a red coat and a pair of and titles, for they are the key to his history-Massey epaulettes, through Sir James Massey, who was a Gordon Lister was the son of a clergyman in the north K. C. B., and had great interest at the Horse Guards; of England, and of a lady, who had the good fortune and who at one period was depended on to get him a to be cousin, in various degrees, to several persons of commission; but that hope had failed, and it was now distinction. The Rev. John Lister held the vicarage too late to commence a military career. Still diploof Y a comfortable little bit of preferment, which macy and the church remained, and Massey Gordon had been given to him by one of his wife's great rela-waited with his mouth open for five years more; but tions; and it certainly was but common justice that he gaped in vain-nothing fell into it. Unfortushe should bring something with hier besides her five nately, as time advances people grow older; our hero thousand pounds; for she was a fine lady, a very fine awoke one morning to the painful conviction that he lady indeed, who wanted a great many things, for was thirty years of age, and that he had not yet taken which her own fortune and the minister's stipend the first step towards providing for himself; and what very barely sufficed. made this consciousness more painful was, that he was very much in love. The object of his affection was the daughter of a retired officer; and as she had no money herself, it was unreasonable to suppose her father would give her to a man who had nothing to settle on her but expectations. However, on the strength of these expectations, he tried his fortune; and being assured of the young lady's regard, he asked her hand of her father. "It is true, sir," said he, "that my position is not at present such as I could wish to offer Miss Irving; but I have very good prospects-my mother's relations are in a situation to do a great deal; and there is no doubt but they will do something for me; and, in the mean time, my wife will find a home at my father's."

One child only sprung from this union; and the moment little Massey Gordon saw the light, the eagerness of Mrs Lister to ascertain whether she had brought into the world a male or female infant, was inexpressible; and equally beyond expression was her delight at learning that it was a boy; because, as she triumphantly affirmed, she was certain that her friends "would do something for him." We have ventured to speak of him as Massey Gordon at the moment of his birth, because, in point of fact, he was so named long previous to that auspicious event; and, in short, had been endowed with that euphonious appellation at a period when his existence itself was altogether hypothetical. The name was settled on him like an estate, and with every expectation on the part of his mother, that, if not a fortune in itself, it would assuredly prove the source of one; for the Masseys and the Gordons, the connexions after whom he was named, were both rich and powerful families, with all sorts of things to give away, and with parliamentary interest and interest at court into the bargain.

Thus, Massey Gordon Lister was a young gentleman born to the expectation of something; but, as it remained uncertain what that something might be, he was not regularly educated for any thing. It would have been useless to bring him up to the bar, because there the great relations could not so well aid him; neither was it worth while preparing him for the church, when his destiny might be diplomacy or the army. He was, however, sent to school and to college; where, as he had very fair abilities, he might have done well enough, if he had but known in what particular line to direct them; but so great was his uncertainty on that head, that he never could make up his mind to exert them effectively at all. "It would be time enough," he said, "when he saw what he was to be; it was no use cramming his head with things

"With respect to prospects, sir," replied Major Irving," I confess I think a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush; and I would rather give my daughter to a man that was in the actual possession of five hundred a-year, than to one who had ten thousand depending on a contingency; and as to your relations doing something for you, excuse me for saying, I should think your prospects better if you told me you intended to do something for yourself. If a man will not stir to help himself, I do not see what right he has to expect other people will come to his assistance; and I have observed through life, that there exists very little accordance betwixt the calculations of expectants and the intentions of those who have any thing to give."

This was plain speaking, and the young suitor felt it acutely; but as he could not afford to exhibit his resentment to a person whose good will he was so anxious to cultivate, he gulped it down as well as he could; and merely observed, that "what Major Irving had said was extremely just, but that his situa tion was peculiar, he being in a position that entitled him to look for something. It would be strange indeed,"

he said, "if, having so many connexions in a situation to do something for him, he should be left without any thing."

Stranger things than that happen every day, sir," replied Major Irving. "These great relations of yours have probably many other claims on them besides yours many more, perhaps, than they can satisfy. People are very apt to see nobody in the world but themselves; they forget how many eyes are directed to the same point-how many candidates there are for every thing that's to be given away. Some must be disappointed."

longer delay doing something for him. As long as the
vicar lived, every thing went on very well; the newly-
married pair felt the want of nothing, and would have
been very happy, if Jane could have helped asking
herself daily, and her husband sometimes, what was
to become of them at his father's death. For her own
part, she found great difficulty in answering the ques-
tion, but he found none; for although, it is true, he did
sometimes despond a little, yet he always ended by
saying, "Depend on it, I shall get something at last.
It will come some day when we are least looking for
it, as the letter did that brought me the offer of the
borough."
"But if it should not come, Gordon," Jane would
sometimes venture to add, "what are we to do then?"
"Why, then, I must look about for something to
turn to," he would answer. "It's impossible, with our
connexions, but I must find something to do. By the
bye, Jane, if the child proves to be a boy, we'll chris-
ten him James Massey Gordon, after Sir James Mas-
sey; he has great interest at the Horse Guards, and
I've no doubt he'll do something for him.”

Massey Gordon could not deny the truth of all this; but it was impossible for him, who had been rocked in the cradle of expectation, who had been born and bred to it, to shake himself free of the delusion, and make up his mind to breast the world alone. Not that it was too late; much time had certainly been lost, but energy and a strong purpose can do wonders, especially when these are backed by love. But the fact was, that the habits of indolence and uncertainty in which he had lived, had lowered the tone of his mind; he had fed it upon unsubstantial food and airy hopes, till it was no longer capable of grappling with the realities of life; and although the motive was strong that urged him to exertion, and although Major Irving represented to him that his doing something for himself would not prevent others doing something for him too, if they felt so disposed, yet all his resolutionsfor he made resolutions-ended in nothing, at least in nothing effectual. He tried one thing and he tried another; but he always found out, after a little experiment, that the thing, whatever it was, did not suit him-he was not calculated for it-and then he tried something else; all the while, however, keeping his eye on the great relations, who, he firmly believed, would come to his assistance yet.

In the mean while, Jane Irving, who, although she would not marry him without her father's consent, had plighted her faith to him to marry nobody else, remained single, wasting her youth and her best days in expectation, like her lover. As she was both an amiable and a pretty girl, she did not want suitors; and her father would fain have persuaded her to listen to one or other of them; but she had plighted her faith and yielded her heart, and although Gordon himself offered to release her from her engagement when he found how firm her father was, she would not hear of it. However, it is said every thing would happen at last, if we had only time to wait long enough for it; and, one morning, Massey Gordon rushed into Jane's little drawing-room, with an open letter in his hand it was from one of the great relations, announcing that a representative in the Ministerial interest was immediately wanted to sit for one of the family boroughs, which had unexpectedly become vacant, and that if he would repair to the spot without delay,

he would be nominated.

this school question boldly," said she. "Tell me what
it would take to set me up in a respectable way."
"You must give me a little time to calculate," said
"I will get all the information I can on
Mr Deacon.
the subject, and be prepared to answer your questions
by your next visit."

Mr Lister was very unwilling to resign his seat, because, he said, as long as he kept it, and supported the government, he had a fair claim for expecting that they would do something for him. Perhaps Jane would not have vanquished his objections, had she not bethought herself of representing, that the resignation of the seat, because he could not afford to keep it, would inevitably make a strong impression on his connexions, and might induce them to do something for him after all. This argument prevailed; Mr Lister yielded his assent, and Jane returned to Mr Deacon to learn his opinion of her project.

Although the old gentleman had a very good opinion of Jane, he had been at first almost afraid of encouraging her to risk her little all on the experiment; but the calm determination and good sense she exhibited, inspired him with confidence, and she found him not only prepared to advise her, but willing to act for her. He offered to find her a house, superintend its fitting up, and, in short, take charge of all the arrangements. "All you have to do," said he, "is to get pupils. Every thing shall be ready for you to commence after the next midsummer vacation."

It was a melancholy morning at the vicarage when
the incumbent died. Nothing had been saved out of
the stipend. Mrs Lister remained with the interest of
her five thousand pounds, which, with her habits, was
a very bare provision for herself; and but for the few
hundreds Jane had brought her husband, the lately
married couple would have been nearly penniless, with
the burden of an infant to add to their cares. The
effect of this extremity upon Gordon and his wife was,
however, extremely different. He looked upon it as
the crisis that must inevitably bring him something; his
connexions could not tamely look on and see him and
his wife and child starve. Perhaps they could not
but he left two things out of his calculation-the first
was, that they did not see it, they only learnt their
situation from his own representation, and affluent
people are too much accustomed to these sort of repre-
sentations, to be very much moved by them; and the
next was, that the difficulty of providing for him had
augmented with every year that it had been delayed.
It would have been scarcely possible to have found in
any book, black, red, or green, the something, not that
would have suited him, but that he would have suited.
A man who had reached the age of forty-five, and who
had never done any thing in the world but sit with
his mouth open expecting something to drop into it, was
fit for nothing on earth but a sinecure; and although
in the days of Massey Gordon sinecures were much
more abundant than they are now, the supply was
never equal to the demand, even in the best of times;
and Jane clearly saw that her few hundred pounds,
which was all they had to look to, would not hold out
till the family came to their aid. With a calm and
steady eye, therefore, she looked around her to see
what was to be done. Had she had no child, she
might, perhaps, with the naturally dependent feeling
of a woman, have yielded to her husband's wishes, and
waited the result of his applications, and the effects
they might produce; but the sight of her infant-the
maternal instinct-supplied her with intellect and
energy to act.

And so it was: Mr Deacon managed every thing; made all the agreements, paid all the bills, and on the 1st of August, Jane opened her school with six scholars. Nothing could be better done. The house was pleasantly situated in the outskirts of the village of Y not too far for day-scholars; there was a nice little garden behind to serve for a playground; and nothing could be neater and more appropriate than the furniture and fittings up. Jane said she could not have believed that her money could have gone so far; she was sure Mr Deacon must understand the management of money better than any body. "I have had long experience, my dear," said the old man ; "it is the trade I have been at all my life."

The major and his daughter had always been respected in Y, and the exertion she was making for herself and her child interested every body for her. Mr Deacon had also a good many acquaintances amongst the respectable tradespeople of London, and his recommendation procured several pupils; so that, one way or another, Jane soon found herself with a very presentable school. Her husband lived with her, but he was of rather less use than an errand boy might have been, because an errand-boy would have cleaned the knives and the shoes, and Massey Gordon Lister only walked into the town, with his hands in his pockets, and carried messages. However, he did no harm, except the harm of living on his wife's labour; for he was naturally well disposed, and was only a man lost by bad management; and when the child was old enough to leave the nurse's arms, he took a good deal the charge of it, and taught it its alphabet, which he owned, in a moment of confidence, to his wife, was the first useful thing he had ever done in his life. One day, however, when little James Massey Gordon grew old enough to play at soldiers, and talk of what he would do if he were a great general, she overheard his papa telling him, "that he had a relation who was a great general, and that he was called James Massey, like him; and that he hoped this great general would some day do something for little Jamesie" whereupon Jane extracted a promise from her husband that he would never again, whilst he lived, mention to the child a word about his great relations. "They have done harm enough to one generation," said she-but she said it to Mr Deacon, not to her husband-"let us keep the next out of danger, if we can.'

"But that brings no money with it," said Jane. "You will be no better off than you were before." "Not immediately, perhaps, I grant you," replied the lover; "but after this they must do something for me; they can't put me into parliament and leave me In the village in which she had lived with her father there without any provision-that would be too bad; resided an elderly man, called Deacon. He had forbesides, now that I have a vote to give them, I shouldn't merly been a London tradesman, and had retired at be surprised if the government does something for me. the age of sixty to end his days in the enjoyment of Our family have always supported the party through rural felicity; and, contrary to the usual result of such thick and thin, and it will be hard if they don't give experiments, the plan answered, and he was very happy. me something. I am not so ambitious as I was; a nice But he had always been a sensible, reflecting man, and little place of eight hundred or a thousand a-year, he had not neglected, whilst he was accumulating the would satisfy all my desires, and yours too, I am sure.' means of leisure, to fit himself for its enjoyment. He In spite of this gleam of fortune, however, Major had cultivated his mind by reading, and had, by occa Irving would not hear of the wedding. In his opinion, sional recreations, kept up his taste for social interhe said, it only made the matter worse; their poverty course and for country amusements. Major Irving had would sit more ungracefully upon them, from this ac- esteemed him and courted his acquaintance, and Jane cession of rank and importance, than it would have thought she could not apply to a better person than done without it; so Massey Gordon took his seat in Mr Deacon, to counsel her in her present emergency. the house a single man, where he voted vigorously "I am satisfied," she said, "that whatever is done In this train things went on for some years; the with the ministry for five years, writing regularly must be done by myself. Mr Lister has always lived school flourishing, little James growing and prospertwice a-week to Jane, affirming in every letter his in so much ease and affluence, and has been brought ing, and understanding that he would have to make absolute certainty of getting something shortly. But, up to such expectations, which, vague as they were, his own way in the world by dint of application, and unfortunately, our hero had not the gift of eloquence, have always filled his mind, that I am certain he is the exertion of such talents as he had; and Mr Deacon nor had he ever given much attention to the science incapable of any exertion at all commensurate with ever kind and friendly, and ready to aid Jane in any of politics; and by the time he was called to the house, the exigency of our situation. I do not say that, know-way she needed; when, one day-one auspicious day, his habits of indolence and inapplication were too con- ing our need, his friends will not come to his assist- the poets would say-Massey Gordon, who had strolled firmed to admit of his repairing lost time, or qualify-ance, if any thing should offer; but I am aware of the to the village, as usual, with his hands in his pockets, ing himself to make any figure in his new position. uncertainty and the difficulty; and with respect to to hear what was going on, read in the London jourAll he could do was to give his silent vote, and sup- pecuniary assistance, I believe they have no more nals that one of his honourable cousins was appointed port his party on all questions, unflinchingly, whether money to spare than the rest of the world, and if they Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He bought right or wrong. But, unfortunately, such partisans had, it would be very mortifying to be obliged to accept the paper, and hurried home to his wife. "I shall are too abundant to be much valued; and, at the end it. I would rather do any thing for myself-any thing write to him by to-night's post," said he; "at all of the five years, Massey Gordon was forty, Jane Ir- in the world." events, I am now certain of getting something." ving five-and-thirty, the major on his deathbed, the vicar declining, and no more signs of the expected something than there had been twenty years before. When her father was laid in the grave, Jane Irving found herself with a few hundred pounds and a small pension, both together not sufficient to maintain her in independence as a gentlewoman; she proposed, therefore, to seek the situation of a governess, but her lover would not hear of it. Now that she had no other protector, he claimed her hand, and insisted on her accepting the shelter of his father's roof. The vicar never had had any will of his own since he had married a lady of such high connexions; and although Mrs Lister thought her son might have done better, she did not oppose the match, for both she and Massey Gordon agreed that, when they saw he had a wife to provide for, it was impossible that the family should

"But what can you do, my dear,” said Mr Deacon, "that is consistent with your station? You cannot offer yourself as a governess, because you have a child and a husband, from whom you would not like to be separated."

"I must forget my station, if I cannot provide for my child otherwise," said Jane. "But I was thinking whether, with my little money, I might not set up a school."

"The wife of the member for S. keep a little country school!" said Mr Deacon.

"But I am persuading Gordon to resign his seat," said Jane. "It has cost him a great deal more than it has brought him, for his qualification was merely nominal; and he could no longer afford to live in London during the session, now that his father is dead, who supplied him with the means. But let us face

We have said, and we believe, that if people could only wait long enough, every thing they desired would happen at last, sooner or later. But the period of life allotted to man does not seem to have been arranged with any reference to this consideration; and, accordingly, people who don't make haste, are apt to die before their ends are attained, or their work accomplished. What the Secretary for Foreign Affairs might have done at last, there is no telling; for on the day after the announcement of his taking office appeared, Massey Gordon Lister fell down in an apoplectic fit, and expired after a few hours' illness.

At all events, he did nothing for the widow; but Mr Deacon did. He was now a very old man, and he said he wanted somebody to take care of him; so he made Jane give up her school, and she and her boy went to live with him. They were his happy inmates