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edifying. Quite true. But in justice we he makes an incursion into political by-ways, shop and the shambles. Humanity got disought, in excitements of this nature, to look he exposes himself to ridicule. And he seems mayed at the mountain of dogs, and retreated. closely and see what the real cause of the to be the one Frenchman whom ridicule nei- Trade saw its chance, and shot into the vapublic concern is; and if concern in the ther dismays nor silences. He insists upon cant place. The iron egotists who rob a poor issue of a scandal be not a very high order it that he is created to be the constitution creature of its life to sell its skin shall not of intellectual activity, it is at least immeas-huilder to "the parliament of man, the fed pass for soft sentimentalists while I can wag urably better that it should be this than mere eration of the world;” being sure that, il a pen. The crying hyena is new trader, and ly a morbid love for prurient details. And only his scheme be adopted, the war-drum I resist him in the name of dog and man." let us say that the disposition to find in would throb no more, and the battle - flags It is certainly a good work to expose imposevery act of our neighbors the baser motive would be furled. Hugo, like Carlyle, is bent ture, and strip the garment of charity from is not elevating to him who indulges in it, on being a school-master of mankind; and what seems to have become a mere money. por is it calculated to exercise an influence the good-natured world, considering the glory making operation ; but we fear that Mr. for good upon the community.

of their writings, will, no doubt, “grin and Reade will have to give over novel-writing

bear it.” They have, perhaps, earned the altogether-which would be a sore grief to THOSE who know Victor Hugo's manner right to be chartered libertines of political his thousands of readers—if he sets about of political disquisition and prophecy will pedagoguery.

unearthing all the trading wolves which go shudder to think what is coming. We are

about appealing to public sympathy in the treatened with a perfect inundation of glit MR. CHARLES READE finds time, amid his innocent garb of wool. However, one such tering generalities and epigrammatic highfa literary labors, to make frequent diversions exposure is a worthy deed, and Mr. Reade latin in the shape of political memoirs. Victor as a social reformer. He is a vigorous rival has proved himself as efficient a champion Hugo does nothing, at least with the pen, by of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty of the dog as he is skillful in "wagging a halves. His literary schemes are as elaborate to Animals. Every thing be says and does is pen." ad fall of complex structure as a military thoroughly Readesque in energy and pungenengineer's plan of siege. He, therefore, lays cy. Now, he has been running a tilt against

Literary. out a scheme of discouraging proportions ; an institution called “The Dogs' Home.” It zor will he be able to relate his part in French was founded as a charity. Stray dogs, maspolitics in less than three good-sized volumes. terless and kennel-less, were picked up and THE ârst thing which it occurs to us to We already have his prologue, which is the welcomed to this canine retreat and hearth

say of Tennyson's “Queen Mary” * is,

that it is really a drama. Many of the modshape of an essay on “Right and the Law," stone. Thence they were doled out to such

ern so-called dramas are nothing more than in which the illustrious Academician seems people as wanted a faithful follower and do

poems, or "studies of character," broken up bent on persuading Frenchmen that right is mestic policeman. But, being for the most

into dialogue and cast in dramatic forms, but me thing and law another, and that, if they part ugly creatures, mongrel in breed and impossible of representation on the stage, Tant to do right, they must hold the law in without the advantages of a liberal educa. and, in fact, never intended for it; but Mr. fight esteem and scant obedience. Follow- tion, there were few demands upon the sup- | Tennyson's characters really act, bis scenes ing close upon this super - transcendental | plies of the “ Home.” Mr. Charles Reade, i appeal to the eye and not to the imagination, thesis, which has the tone of one conjuring hearing suspicious things of the “Home,"

and the drama itself, probably, will be seen mankind to resolve to be perfect, and so abol- made a private tour of inspection thither ;

in its true proportions only when seen on the ish all necessity for law, we shall be con and the result is one of his crisp, sharp, and

stage. We do not mean by this that it takes fronted with three volumes of memoirs, en witty letters to a London paper. He says prises,” “ business," "gags,” and carpentry,

its interest in any degree from the "surtitled, respectively, “Before Exile,” “ During that the dogs are confined in seldom-cleaned which are supposed to be indispensable to Exile," and "After Exile.” Modern French cages, are poorly fed, and kept like canine fel. the acting play; but the dialogue is too vig. history, then, is to be marked by epochs of ons. Nor was this the worst. He found out orous, direct, and personal, for the full flavor Tietor Hugo's own career. Instead of saying that after a certain time the undemanded dogs to be caught by merely reading it; the action that such and such a thing occurred in the were ruthlessly killed to save their board. is rapid, and great pains have evidently been reign of Louis Philippe, it will be proper to “So swift to shed blood,” says Mr. Reade, bestowed upon the pictorial accessories. Few say that it occurred "Before the Exile.” And was ' home, sweet home.'” They were sac

dramas in the language, indeed, afford finer ve must believe that “During Exile” the

opportunities for the magnificent scene-paintrificed because they could not "sell all in a

ing which forms one of the achievements of carrent of French politics ran dark and moment, like a hot roll."

the modern stage-Whitehall Palace, Lamturgid enough. Why will not men of real Mr. Reade goes on to tell the world what beth Palace, the Guildhall, the Tower, Longenius be content with the fame which that he knows about dogs, the sum of his infor

don Bridge, Westminster Palace, the Houses Regius achieves in its own proper sphere? mation being that the half-bred dog is “often of Parliament, all would call for representa

There is no doubt of Victor Hugo's illus a handsome animal and generally a more in tion-and provision is made for at least three trious rank among men of letters in his gen- telligent one than the thorough-bred.” He street-pageants of a particularly impressive Eration. The author of “ Notre-Dame” and finds, however, that “if the dog captured is description. *Les Misérables” and “Hernani” and “The a retriever, hound, or even plain Pomeranian,

The action of the drama covers the entire Terrible Year” ought to be content with the his chances of living a week are small; and period of the reign of “ Bloody Mary," openasmortality which these bring, without seek- if he is half as great a mongrel as the Anglo- ing with the entry into London which ocag new worlds to conquer. As poet and ro Saxon race, he is pretty sure to be murdered the throne, and closing with the proclamation

curred just subsequent to her accession to maneer he is sometimes extravagant, too in a week, that home, sweet home' may

of Elizabeth by the Lords of the Council. aften hyperbolical; but here, at least, he is save his biscuit and sawdust, and sell his of the dramatis personce, there are no fewer *an element where he is strong and great. skin." Between the policeman, who is given than forty-five, besides “Lords and other Atthe mornent that, with a strange fatuity, he a reward for every stray dog he captures, and tendants, Members of the Privy Council, tters the political arena, and imagines him the “Home,” which sells the dogs or kills Members of Parliament, two Gentlemen, Alti a statesman, he becomes stilted, vision-them for their hides, the system has become dermen, Citizens, Peasants, Ushers, Messen#3, wild, and, we had almost said, nonsensi. a sheer commercial speculation. “Humani-| gers, Guards, Pages, etc. ;" but out of the el. It is sad that such a man as Victor Hugo ty,” says our Society F.T. P.C. A. of one,

* Queen Mary. A Drama. By Alfred Tennyshaald be laughed at; but, every time that "started a dogs' home; trade has grafted the Boston: J. R. Osgood & Co.

son,

crowd the figures of Queen Mary, Elizabeth,

PHILIP.

We are not loved here, and would be tñen perPhilip of Spain, Gardiner, Archbishop Cran So, weary am I of this wet land of theirs,

haps And every soul of man that breathes therein.

Not so well holpen in our wars with France, mer, Cardinal Pole, Simon Renard (the Span

As else we might be here she comes. ish Embassador), and Sir Thomas Wyatt,

RENARD.

Enter MARY. stand forth conspicuously prominent, while

My liege, we inust not drop the mask before
The masquerade is over-

MARY. the story takes its essential unity from the

O Philip! life of Mary herself.

PHILIP.

Nay, must you go, indeed ! The first act is a long one and decidedly I have but shown a loathing face to you,

-Have I dropped it ?

PHILIP. business - like, being occupied chiefly with

Madarn, I must. Who knew it from the first.

MARY. positing the several leading characters, and

Enter MARY.

The parting of a husband and a wife twining together the threads of the subse

MARY (aside).

Is like the cleaving of a heart; one half quent story; but even thus early we come

Will flutter here, one there.

With Renard. Still upon the main-springs of the drama-Mary's Parleying with Renard, all the day with Re

PHILIP. infatuation for Philip, the opposition of the nard,

You say true, madam.
And scarce a greeting all the day for me-
English to her marriage with him, and the

MARY.
And goes to-morrow. [Exit Mary.

The Holy Virgin will not have me yet persecuting tendencies of the Roman Cath

PHILIP (to RENARD, who advances to him). Lose the sweet hope that I may bear a prince. olic revival. Scene v. of this act, in which

Well, sir, is there more? If such a prince were born and you not here ! Mary communes with herself over the miniaRENARD (who has perceived the QUEEN).

PHILIP, ture of Philip, shows it to her attendants May Simon Recard speak a single word ?

I should be here if such a prince were born. and questions them regarding it, and avows

PHILIP.

MARY. to Gardiner her unalterable determination to Ay.

But must you go? have Philip and none other, is one of the

RexARD.

PHILIP. most successful in the play; but it is too And be forgiven for it?

Madam, you know my father,

Retiring into cloistral solitude long to quote entire, and its parts are too in

PHILIP.

To yield the remnant of his years to heaven, terdependent to be separated.

Simon Renard

Will shift the yoke and weight of all the The whole of the second act is devoted to Knows me too well to speak a single word

world the “ Kentish insurrection,” headed by Sir That could not be forgiven.

From off his neck to mine. We meet at Brus

sels.

RENARD. Thomas Wyatt, which came so near costing

But since mine absence will not be for long.

Well, my liege,
Mary her throne, and the complete defeat of Your grace hath a most chaste and loving And wait my coming back.

Your majesty shall go to Dover with me, which enabled her to triumph over all oppo

wife.
PHILIP.

Mary. sition, and to carry out her pet plans of mar

To Dover? no, rying Philip and reëstablishing the Romish

Why not? The queen of Philip should be
chaste.

I am too feeble. I will go to Greenwich, worship in England. This act is spirited and

RENARD.

So you will have me with you; and there

watch dramatic, and contains some of the most Ay, but, my lord, you know what Virgil sings, All that is gracious in the breath of heaven skillful writing in the play. Woman is various and most mutable.

Draw with your sails from our poor land, and Before the third act opens an interval of

PHILIP.

pass a year or more has elapsed, during which She play the harlot! never.

And leave me, Philip, with my prayers for

you, Wyatt and Lady Jane Grey have been be

RENARD.

PHILIP.

No, sire, no, headed, Elizabeth consigned to prison as a Not dreamed of by the rabidest gospeler.

And doubtless I shall profit by your prayers. ti suspect," and the queen married to her There was a paper thrown into the palace,

MARY. Philip, who by his haughty bearing and inso

" The king hath wearied of his barren bride." Methinks that would you tarry one day more le lent Spanish airs has already awakened bit

She came upon it, read it, and then rent it,

(The news was sudden), I could mould myWith all the rage of one who hates a truth

self ter hostility against himself both at court He cannot but allow. Sire, I would have to bear your going better; will you do it? and among the people. In this act the story

you-
What should I say, I cannot pick my words-

PHILIP. makes rapid progress. Pole, as Papal Legate, Be somewhat less-majestic to your queen.

Madam, a day may sink or save a realm, absolves England from the guilt of heresy,

PHILIP.

MARY. and takes her back once more into the fold Am I to change my manners, Simon Renard,

A day may save a heart from breaking, too. of Holy Church; under the pressure of Because these islanders are brutal beasts?

PAILIP. Gardiner and Bonner-Vary being a willing

Or would you have me turn a sonneteer, Well, Simon Renard, shall we stop a day? coadjutor—the baleful enginery of religious And warble those brief-sighted eyes of 'hers ?

RENARD. persecution is set in motion, and Elizabeth is

RENARD.

Your grace's business will not suffer, sire, partially reinstated at court. In the closing

Brief - sighted though they be, I have seen For one day more, so far as I can tell.

them, sire, scene Philip, disgusted with the English cli

PHILIP. When you perchance were trifling royally mate, and tired of a wife whom he had never With some fair dame of court, suddenly fill Then one day more to please her majesty. loved, and whom he had accepted only from With such fierce fire-bad it been fire indeed

MARY. It would have burnt both speakers. motives of state policy, is on the point of

The sunshine sweeps across my life again.

PHILIP. leaving England. This scene is long ; but, as

Oh, if I knew you felt this parting, Philip,

Ay, and then? As I do! it summarizes in a manner the controlling

RENARD.

PHILIP. motif of the play, we venture to quote a con Sire, might it not be policy in some matter

By St. James I do protest, siderable portion of it:

Of small importance now and then to cede Upon the faith and honor of a Spaniard,
A point to her demand?

I am vastly grieved to leave your majesty.--
PHILIP.

PHILIP.

Simon, is supper ready? But, Renard, I am sicker staying here

Well, I am going

RENARD. Than any sea could make me passing hence,

RENARD. Though I be ever deadly sick at sea.

Ay, my liege,

I saw the covers laying. So sick am I with biding for this child.

For should her love when you are gone, my Is it the fashion in this clime for women liege,

PHILIP. To go twelve months in bearing of a child ? Witness these papers, there will not be want

Let us have it.

[Eoreunt. The nurses yawned, the cradle gaped, they led ing

With the fourth act the drama takes on a Processions, chanted litanies, clashed their Those that will urge her injury-should her bells,

love

deeper tone, and rises to loftier heights of Shot off their lying cannon, and her priests And I have known such women more than poetry. The entire act is devoted to the reHave preached, the fools, of this fair prince to come, Veer to the counterpoint, and jealousy

ligious persecutions, especially to the burnTill, by St. James, I find myself the fool. Hath in it an alchemic force to fuse

ing of Cranmer at the stake. The scenes Why do you lift your eyebrow at me thus ? Almost into one metal love and hateAnd she impress her wrongs upon her Coun- the annals of the English Church-the abortive

preliminary to this most melancholy tragedy in RENARD.

cil, I never saw your highness moved till now. And these again upon her Parliament petition of the Lords for Cranmer's pardon,

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the procuring of the recantations, the meet one of the most repulsive characters in mod

LADY CLARENCE. ing at St. Mary's Church, where Cranmer is ern annals, and, without violating the truth Ay, madam; but Sir Nicholas Heath, the expected to abjure his heresy, and abjures his of history or attempting to confuse our judg-Would see your highness. fecantations instead, the procession to the ment, linked her to her kind by simply exbib

Mary. stake-all are described with exceeding vivid- iting her under the influence of those pas.

Wherefore should I see him? ness of detail. Cranmer's speech at St. Ma- sions and sorrows which are common to us

LADY CLARENCE. ty's is surpassingly fine, unequaled in vigor, | all, and which, therefore, appeal to our most

Well, madam, he may bring you news from simplicity, and pathos, by any thing of the universal human sympathies. Henceforth, Philip. kind in recent literature. The horror of the History's stern verdict upon Mary will be

MARY.

So, Clarence. actual scene at the stake is spared us, but the mitigated in the reader's mind by the recol.

LADY CLARENCE. following description of it is given by an eye. lection of the scene (scene ii., act v.) of

Let me first put up your hair ; witness fresh from the burning : wbich we shall now quote a part:

It tumbles all abroad.
PETERS.
POLE (to MARY).

MARY.
You saw him how he passed among the crowd ; How I would dandle you upon my knee

Ah, cousin, I remember

And the gray dawn

Of an old age that never shall be mine And ever as he walked the Spanish friars Still plied him with entreaty and reproach : At lisping-age. I watched you dancing once

Is all the clearer seen. No, no ; what matters? Bat Cranmer, as the helmsman at the helm With your huge father; he looked the Great

Forlorn I am, and let me look forlorn.
Steers, ever looking to the happy haven
Harry,

Enter Sir NICHOLAS HEATH.
Where he shall rest at night, moved to his
You but his cock boat: prettily you did it

HEATH. . death;

And innocently. No, we were not made And I could see that many silent hands One flesh in happiness, no happiness here;

I bring your majesty such grievous news Came from the crowd and met his own, and But now we are made one flesh in misery :

I grieve to bring it." Madam, Calais is taken. thus, Our bridesmaids are not lovely-Disappoint

MARY. When we had come where Ridley burned with ment,

What traitor spoke? Here, let my cousin Pole Latimer, Ingratitude, Injustice, Evil-tongue,

Seize and burn him for a Lutheran.
He with a cheerful smile, as one whose mind

Labor-in-vain.
MARY.

HEATH. all made up, in haste put off the rags

. They had mocked his misery with, and all in

Surely, not all in vain. Her highness is unwell. I will retire. white, Peace, cousin, peace ! I am sad at heart my

LADY CLARENCE. His long white beard, which he had never self.

Madam, your chancellor, Sir Nicholas Heath. shaven

POLE.
Since Henry's death, down-sweeping to the Our altar is a mound of dead men's clay,

MARY. chain

Dug from the grave that yawns for us beyond; Sir Nicholas ? I am stunned-Nicholas Heath? Wherewith they bound him to the stake, he And there is one Death stands behind the Methought some traitor smote me on the stood groom,

head.More like an ancient father of the Church

And there is one Death stands behind the What said you, my good lord, that our brave Than heretic of these times; and still the bride

English friars

MARY.

Had sallied out from Calais and driven back
Plied him, but Cranmer only shook his head,
Or answered them in smiling negatives;
Have you been looking at “The Dance of

The Frenchmen from their trenches?
Whereat Lord Williams gave a sudden cry:
Death?”

HEATH. .
POLE.

Alas! no. *Make short ! make short !” and so they lit the wood. No; but these libelous papers which I found

That gateway to the main-land over which Then Cranmer lifted his left hand to heaven,

Strewn in your palace. Look you here: the Our flag hath floated for two hundred years And thrust his right into the bitter flame;

pope

Is France again.

MARY. dd crying, in his deep voice, more than

Pointing at me with " Pole, the heretic, once : Thou hast burned others, do thou burn thy

So; but it is not lost*This hath offended-this unworthy hand!”

self,

Not yet. Send out: let England as of old held it till it all was burned, before

Or I will burn thee," and this other; see Rise lion-like, strike hard and deep into The flame had reached his body; I stood “ We pray continually for the death

The prey they are rending from her-ay, and Of our accursed queen and Cardinal Pole."

rend Hurked him, he never uttered a roan of This last-I dare not read it her. (Aside. The renders, too. Send out, send out, and

make pain :

Mary. He never stirred or writhed, but, like a statue,

Muster in all the counties; gather all

Away! Enmoving in the greatness of the flame,

From sixteen years to sixty; collect the fleet; Gave ap the ghost; and so passed martyr-like- | I thought you knew me better. I never read, Why do you bring me these ?

Let every craft that carries sail and gun Martyr I may not call him - passed -- but

Steer toward Calais. Guisnes is not taken I tear them; they come back upon my dreams. vhither?

yet?
The hands that write them should be burned

HEATH.
PAGET.

clean off
is purgatory, man—to purgatory !
As Cranmer's, and the fiends that utter them

Guisnes is not taken yet.
PETERS.

MARY.
Tongue-torn with pincers, lashed to death, or
lie

There is yet hope.
Jay, but, my lord, he denied purgatory.
Famishing in black cells, while famished rats

HEATH.
Eat them alive. Why do you bring me these?
PAGET.

.
.
Why then to heaven; and God ha' mercy on
Do you mean to drive me mad?

Ah, madam, but your people are so cold;

I do much fear that England will not care. him,

Pols.

Methinks there is no manhood left among us.

I had forgotten In the fifth act the interest is concentrat How these poor libels trouble you. Your par

MARY. ed on Queen Mary, who appears before us in

don,

Send out. I am too weak to stir abroad;

Tell my mind to the Council-to the Parliaher declining days, deserted by her husband, Sweet cousin, and farewell ! “O bubble

ment: ihopeless of an heir, involved by Philip in an Whose colors in a moment break and fly!” Proclaim it to the winds. Thou art cold thy

self mapopular war with France, conscious of be- Why, who said that? I know not-true

enough! ing hated by her people, and racked with dis

To babble of their coldness. Oh, would I ease. The pathos of this act is profound and [Puts up the papers, all but the last, which falls.) My father for an hour! Away now-quick ! Exit POLE.

[Exit HEATH. powerful; for, though Tennyson has made

ALICE. little effort to soften the hard and unlovelý

I hoped I had served God with all my might!

It seems I have not. Ah, much heresy mutlines of Mary's character, though he has If Cranmer's spirit were a mocking one,

Sheltered in Calais. Saints, I have rebuilt And heard these two, there might be sport for represented her as she really was—a cold,

Your shrines, set up your broken images ; him.

Be comfortable to me. Suffer not selfish, eruel woman, in politics an incapable,

Mary.

That my brief reign in England be defamed ad in religion a ferocious bigot-yet, recall Clarence, they hate me: even while I speak Through all her angry chronicles hereafter is her ardent devotion to Philip and her There lurks a silent dagger, listening

By loss of Calais. Grant me Calais.-- Philip, In some dark closet, some long gallery, drawn, We have made war upon the Holy Father Skrowful life with him, and looking upon the | And panting for my blood as I go by.

All for your sake! "What good could come Tgler desolation of her latter end, we are

of that?

LADY CLARENCE. pored to sympathy, and find ourselves re

LADY CLARENCE. Nay, madam, there be loyal papers, too, garding " the bloody queen” with infinite And I have often found them.

No, madam, not against the Holy Father;

You did but help King Philip's war with ht, if not with affection. This, indeed, is

MARY.

France. lenyzoa's true triumph ; that he has taken

Find me one! Your troops were never down in Italy.

near

[Aside.

MARY.

nate, systematize, and classify the ideas that wealth. Now I am anxious here to insis I am a byword. Heretic and rebel

have been accumulated in the reader's mind. upon this fundamental point: whatever take Point at me and make merry. Philip gone! And Calais gone! Time that I were gone too?

Professor Cairnes thinks that the present

the form of a plan aiming at definite practi (Sees the paper dropped by POLE.) state of instability and uncertainty even as

cal ends—it may be a measure for the diminu

tion of pauperism, for the reform of land-ten There, there ! another paper! said you not to fundamental propositions in political econ

ure, for the extension of coöperative industry Many of these were loyal? Shall I try omy, which has retarded and almost arrested

for the regulation of currency; or it may as If this be one of such? the growth of the science in recent years, is

sume a more ambitious shape, and aim at re LADY CLARENCE.

owing partly to a want of precision in its defi- organizing society under spiritual and tempo Let it be, let it be. nitions, but chiefly to an attempt on the part ral powers, represented by a high-priest of God pardor me! I have never yet found one.

of many professed expounders of the science humanity and three bankers-it matters not

[Aside. MARY (reads).

(the French school especially) to extend its what the proposal may be, whether wide o "Your people hate you as your husband hates

boundaries so as to include in it all the va narrow in its scope, severely judicious o you.

rious phenomena presented by society. Be- wildly imprudent–if its object be to accom
Clarence, Clarence, what have I done? what
sin
sides the controversies which this has caused, plish definite practical ends, then I say it ha

none of the characteristics of a science, and
Beyond all grace, all pardon ? Mother of God, and the difficulty involved in thus grouping has no just claim to the name. Consider th
Thou knowest never woman meant so well, together phenomena which have no scientific
And fared so ill in this disastrous world.

case of any recognized physical science-as My people hate me and desire my death.

relation to each other, the result has been to tronomy, dynamics, chemistry, physiology,

divert political economy from its proper field, does any of these aim at definite practica LADY CLARENCE.

the laws of the production and distribution ends ? at modifying in a definite manner, i No, madam, no. MARY. of wealth, to a consideration of social inter- matters not how, the arrangement of thing

II My husband hates me, and desires my death. ests and relations generally, in the discussion in the physical universe ? Clearly not. LADY CLARENCE.

of which its exponents bave taken sides and each case the object is, not to attain tangibi No, madam; these are libels.

become the apologists or assailants of in- results, not to prove any definite thesis, not ti stitutions which it was their business simply give light, to reveal laws of Nature, to tell u

advocate any practical plan, but simply t MARY. I hate myself, and I desire my death. to analyze. As a consequence of these at

what phenomena are found together, what ef tempts to represent political economy in the fects follow from what causes. Does it follor We have little more to add. What we

guise of a dogmatic code of cut-and-dried from this that the physical sciences are with have already written will suffice, we trust, to rules, a system promulgating decrees, sanc out bearing on the practical concerns of man give the reader a tolerably accurate idea of

tioning one social arrangement, condemning kind? I think I need not trouble myself t the scope and quality of the work. To char- another, requiring from men, not considera

answer that question. Well, then, politics acterize such a performance might savor of

tion, but obedience, it has awakened the re economy is a science in the same sense it presumption; while it would certainly be pugnance, and even the violent opposition, physiology are sciences. Its subject-matte

which astronomy, dynamics, chemistry, an fruitless to follow the example of the London not only of those who have all along regarded is different; it deals with the phenomena of Times (referred to last week), and institute the science as "dismal," "unchristian," and a comparison between poets who have so lit-"inhuman," but of that vast mass of people of the physical universe ; but its methods, it

wealth, while they deal with the phenomen tle in common, even when they essay the who have their own reasons for not cherish- aims, the character of its conclusions, are th drama, as Shakespeare and Tennyson. It is ing that unbounded admiration of existing same as theirs. What astronomy does fo enough to say that “Queen Mary” is worthy industrial arrangements which is felt by some the phenomena of the heavenly bodies; wha of its author's fame; that its vigor, dramatic popular expositors of so-called economic laws.

dynamics does for the phenomena of motion fire, simplicity of diction, and freedom from The main object of Professor Cairnes in

what chemistry does for the phenomena ot all effort at merely rhetorical effects, will these lectures is to bring back the science to

chemical combination; what physiology doe surprise those whose knowledge of Tenny- | its rightful limits, which, as we have already

for the phenomena of the functions of organi son is founded chiefly upon his later work, in said, are the laws of the production, distri- life, that political economy does for the phe which the singer has almost been lost in the bution, and consumption of wealth, and to artist; and that it will undoubtedly take a show that, within these limits, it is a true

cording to which these phenomena coexis

with or succeed each other; that is to say, i foremost place among the literary achieve science, dealing with phenomena only, and expounds the laws of the phenomena of ments of our time.

not intruding at all upon the domain of wealth.”

morals, or either indorsing or condemning In one lecture the Malthusian doctrine of PROFESSOR J. E. Cairnes, of University social arrangements or industrial schemes. population, and in another the theory of rent College, London, is now generally recognized | The argument in which this proposition is

are very carefully analyzed and explained as the leading living exponent of the ortho-enforced is a beautiful example of lucid, for

but the entire book is one which we can rec dos school of political economy-the school cible, and convincing reasoning; and though ommend warmly to all students of politico founded by Adam Smith, and of which the the chain is too closely welded to be easily economical questions. The fact that thi late J. S. Mill was, perhaps, the most distin- unlinked, we cannot refrain from quoting a lectures were delivered some seventeen year guished expositor. Whatever he chose to i single paragraph, bearing upon the points we ago does not in any way lessen their valu say, therefore, on politico-economical ques. have just mentioned :

-the problems of that time are the prob tions, would be entitled to respectful consid

lems of to-day-and, besides the introduction eration; but, independent of this, his little "For those who clearly apprehend what

of entirely new topics, extensive change collection of lectures on “ The Character and science, in the modern sense of the term,

have been made throughout in the form and Logical Method of Political Economy” (New means, this ought sufficiently to indicate at

treatment. York : Harper & Brothers) fills a place in

once its (political economy's) province and

what it undertakes to do. Unfortunately,
the popular literature of the science that has
many who perfectly understand what science

Mrs. FRANCES Elliot is already knowi
been occupied by no previous book. It is
means when the word is employed with refer-

to readers of the JOURNAL, by her “Romance not a systematic treatise on the principles of ence to physical Nature, allow themselves to of Old Court-Life in France," as a forcible political economy; much less is it a complete slide into a totally different sense of it, or vivid, and graceful writer, with a decided survey of its phenomena and laws; but it rather into acquiescence in an absence of all taste for the picturesque and personal side stands alone in the precision with which it distinct meaning in its use, when they employ of history and an equally decided talent foi defines the nature, objects, and limits of eco- it with reference to social existence. In the brilliant, pictorial, and somewhat gorgeous nomic science, and the method of investiga- minds of a large number of people every thing description. Her latest work, “The Ital tion proper to it as a subject of scientific

is social science which proposes to deal with inns" (New York: D. Appleton & Co.), take study. For this reason it is admirably adapt-grievance, or in promoting order and progsocial facts, either in the way of remedying a

its chief interest from the same tastes an ed to serve as an introduction to the study ress in society : every thing is political econo

qualities. · Thcugh, in form, a novel, th of the science, or as the close of a course of my which is in any way connected with the story is exceedingly slight, and the charac reading when the time has come to coördi- production, distribution, or consumption of ters are types rather than persons; the rea

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object of the book being to picture the Ital. | terward by an absorbing affection for the there are similar signs of affection for the balian society of the period, with its proud old man who in the end wins her hand. The lad. Mrs. Browning displays them frequentnobility, whose very names have an historic story of this affection is entirely unexcep- ly, although it must be acknowledged that the sound, and whose traditions link the present tionable, but the social background on which high effort exhibited in her verse is generally with the middle ages, but whose fortunes it is thrown is a perfect Vanity Fair of folly, manded from the balladist. Mr. Browning is

opposed to the directness and simplicity deare grievously decayed, and its nouveaux | hypocrisy, and vice.

never more picturesque, more vigorous, more riches whom the new order of things and the Mrs. Elliot, as we have said, has a marked able to stir the pulses, than when he surrenincreasing importance of wealth have lifted talent for description, and in the present work ders himself to the emotion of the ballad. to a social prominence which the hereditary finds ample opportunity for indulging it. The Truly says a writer in the Spectator, that Mr. caste bitterly resents but is obliged to toler-old city of Lucca, as it nestles in the valley Browning's ballads are among his most spiritate. Mrs. Elliot has lived long in Italy, she of the Sercbio ; its massive edifices, half ed poems. “They throb with a keen, sharp srites from abundant knowledge of her sub-palace and half fortress, relics of the old pulse of tense energy and excitement, which ject, and her delineations have a “truthful warlike times when the lords of Lucca strug. makes the eye and heart of his readers conseeming" quality which one hesitates to call gled with Florence and Pisa for supremacy in tive, and never dare to withdraw themselves in question; yet we cannot help hoping that Italy; its famous historical achievements;

till that point is reached.” These ballads are the picture is exaggerated, and that the its venerable nobility, contrasting oddly with by no means the finest works produced by the author has been led by her preference for the the modern insignificance of their town; its

poet, but they are the most popular, and even salient and the striking to select the excep- festivals and civic ceremonials ; its fêtes and persons who obstinately refuse to admire Mr. tious and ignore the rule. Every generous balls; the country around, with its olive- Browning's poetry will do justice to “The mind throughout the world has been in hearty plantations, chestnut-forests, and cornfields; Ride from Ghent to Aix," and to the noble sympathy with the awakening and growth of the peasants, beggars, village gossips, and story of " The Breton Pirate, Hervé Riel." the new Italy; but what can be hoped of a priests—all are brought before us with a viv

The poet-laureate, too, has given us some sation of whose society the following can be idness that leaves little to be demanded of

charming examples of what a writer of the truthfully written? For it must be remem the reader's imagination. An actual visit to

highest culture and of exquisite taste can pro

duce in this direction. So have Mr. Rossetti, bered that these "golden youth ” are but the Lucca could hardly add much to the knowl. Mr. Kingsley, the late Sidney Dobell, and product, the illustration, the expression of edge which we seem to have gotten of the other poets, who are all more or less indebted the social life in the midst of which they are picturesque old city and the life of its into the ballad-singers of earlier days. tred: habitants.

“There is a mighty difference, of course, be** Beside Count Nobili some jeunesse dorée Without being exciting, “The Italians” tween the ballad of literary culture and the of his own age (sons of the best houses in is a book which it is not easy to lay aside ballad produced in an untutored period, but L.zoza) also lean over the Venetian casements. unfinished, and we can testify from expe- the “ one touch of Nature ” makes the resemLike the liveried giants at the entrance, these rience as to the facility with which it in

blance stronger than the diversity; and no one sugh, ogle, chaff, and criticise the wearers of duces one to sit into the wee small hours.

who reads Lady Anne Lindsay's "Auld Robin Leghorn hats, black veils, and white head

Gray," or Mr. Rossetti's “Stratton Water," gear, freely. They smoke, and drink liqueurs

can doubt that the inspiration which gave and sherbet, and crack sugar-plums out of A WRITER in Cornhill on “Ballad Poetry” birth to the rude minstrelsy of a rude age is systal cups on silver plates, set on embossed closes his paper with the following comments

as potent as ever. Indeed, it would be possimys placed beside them. The profession of in regard to a few recent poets as ballad-wri- ble to make a charming selection of ballads-- . taze young men is idleness. They excel in ters: “ Almost every poet, whether English or

Mr. Palgrave would call them “ ballads in Let us pause for a moment and ask what German, who flourished at the close of last court dress”-dating from the beginning of they do—this jeunesse dorée, to whom is com century or in the early years of this century, the century, and among them might be inmited the sacred mission of regenerating an shows a profound sympathy with the feeling cluded a number of humorous pieces from the Heroic people? They could teach Ovid 'the that gives life to the old ballads. In our coun pen of Mr. Thackeray and other well-known 37 of love. It comes to them in the air try this sympathy directed the poetical course writers, which would impart a racy flavor to they breathe. They do not love their neigh- | of Scott, dominated the genius of Coleridge the volume. The element of humor is rarely bars as themselves, but they love their neigh- and of Wordsworth, influenced in a considera- perceptible in the old ballad, but in the ballad bure wives. Nothing is holy to them. A11 ble mensure the rhythmical efforts of Southey, produced by men of letters it is a frequent Ce world for love, and the world well lost,' is and moved with a secret but irresistible force characteristic, and many an admirable specitheir motto. They can smile in their best many a smaller poet, who, if there were still, men is to be met with in the recent literature friend's face, weep with him, rejoice with him, as in days of the troubadours, a minstrel col both of England and of America." dit with him, drink with hini, and—betray lege, would be entitled to a certificate of him; they do this every day, and do it well. merit.

M. ARSÈNE HOUSSAYE, who is himself hey can also lie artistically, dressing up im “Of all modern writers, Scott retains, we

credited with an ambition to secure a place teinars details with great skill, gamble and think, in the largest degree the force and pict- among the Forty Immortals, makes the followslag, swear, and talk scandal. They can lead uresqueness of style which distinguish the old ing reference, in his last letter to the Tribune, a graceful, dissolute, far niente life, loll in car minstrels. His description of Flodden Field, to the recent elections at the Academy: tages

, and be whirled round for hours, say while exhibiting an artistic skill unknown in “There has just been a duel at the Academy. the Florence Cascine, the Roman Pincio, earlier times, has the spirit and movement, People said even in the eighteenth century, aed the park at Milan-smoking the while, the directness and heartiness, which delight 'The French Academy is an illustrious comasi raising their hats to the ladies. . . . They us in the balladists, and, as a writer in the pany where they receive men of the sword, men are ready of tongue and easy of offense. They Times has lately remarked, his "Bonnie Dun of the church, men of the law, men of the an fight duels (with swords), generally a dee" is, of all Jacobite ballads, " one of the world--and even men of letters.' At present bermless exercise. They can dance. They most spirited and soul-stirring.” In “ Young | the Academy is an illustrious company

where a hold strong opinions on subjects on which Lochinvar,” a modern version of an old story, they receive nothing but politicians. Thereiley are crassly ignorant, and yield neither Scott gives another fine specimen of rapid and fore, before the duel of which I am speaking a fact nor argument where their mediæval vigorous narrative which would have delight the Academy had given the chair of Jules pages are concerned. All this the Golden ed the wandering singers of an earlier age. Janin to M. John Lemoinne, and editor of the Pylth of Italy can do, and do it well. Lord Macaulay, too, caught with singular fe- Journal des Débats, a courteous gentleman,

"Yet from such stuff as this are to come licity the strain of the ballad-singers, and there who will recall under the cupola of the Instithe fature ministers, prefects, deputies, finan- is not a school-boy in England. who has not tute the appearance and the wit of Prévosthers, diplomatists, and senators, who are to read, we had almost said who cannot recite, Paradol, who was minister of France among regenerate the world's old mistress! Alas, “The Battle of Naseby," or the glorious | you. Rivarol

, who was not an academician, post Italy!” story of

said, 'To be one of the Forty you must have Alas, indeed! for this is not the worst of

done nothing;' but he added, 'You must not

“How well Horatius kept the bridge Enrica, the heroine, is the only pure

carry this too far.' M. John Lemoinne has In the brave days of old."

made no books, but he has fought valiantly teman in the book; and her innocence is "And in some of the poets who have lately against darkness and prejudice. I give him Preserved first by a childhood and youth passed away, as well as in others who are hap- my vote. My son, who is also an editor of the peut in almost conventual seclusion, and af- pily still able to receive our love and homage, i Débats, assures me that he was the only candi

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