APPIANI. What do you say?-To-day?

MAR. Rather this very hour than in another. The affair requires the utmost haste.

APPIANI. In truth?-Then do I regret that the honour which the Prince intended me must be declined.

MAR. What?

APPIANI. I cannot start to-day ;-nor to-morrow ;-no, nor the day after.

MAR. You are jesting, Count!
APPIANI. With you?

MAR. Incomparable! If the joke satisfy the Prince, so much the merrier.-You cannot ?

APPIANI. No, sir, no. And I trust that the Prince himself will be satisfied with my excuse.

MAR. That excuse I am curious to hear.

APPIANI. Oh, a trifle !-Look you; I am to take a wife to-day. MAR. Well! and then?

APPIANI. And then ?—and then?-Your question is desperately naïve.

MAR. We have examples, my lord Count, of marriages having been postponed.-Certainly I do not believe that the bride or bridegroom always have been thereat pleased. The plan may have its disagreeable side. And yet, I should have thought, the command of a master

APPIANI. The command of a master ?-a master? A master that we choose not for ourselves is not so exactly a master of ours. I grant you, that unconditional obedience is due from you to his Highness, but not from me.-I came hither to this Prince's court out of my own free will. I desired the honour of serving him, but not of becoming his slave. I am the vassal of a greater master.MAR. Greater or smaller: master is master.

APPIANI. Why do I contest it with you?-Enough! Tell the Prince what you have heard:-that it gives me pain to be unable to accept his favours; because I am about, even to-day, to enter into an union which will complete my happiness.

MAR. Will you not, at the same time, let him know with whom? APPIANI. With Emilia Galotti.

MAR. The daughter of this house?

APPIANI. Of this house.

MAR. Ahem! Hem!

APPIANI. What now?

MAR. I should think that in that case there would be so much the less difficulty, in postponing the ceremony till your return. APPIANI. The ceremony? Nothing but the ceremony? MAR. The good parents will not be so very nice.

APPIANI. The good parents?

MAR. And you know Emilia will certainly remain on hand. APPIANI. You know, certainly ?-With your You know, you

are,-I know, a perfect ape!

MAR. That to me, Count?

APPIANI. Why not?

MAR. Heaven and hell!-We will hear more of this.

APPIANI. Pah! Spiteful is the ape; but

MAR. Death and destruction !-Count, I call for satisfaction. APPIANI. That, of course.

MAR. And would have it of you now:-only that for the tender bridegroom's sake I will not spoil a day like as this.

APPIANI. Kind-hearted thing! Nay, now! Nay, now! (taking him by the hand.) To Massa certainly I cannot let myself be sent to-day but for a walk with you I have still time enough remaining. Come, sir, come!

:

MAR. (who tears himself away, and exit.) Have but patience, Count; but patience!

SCENE XI.—APPIANI.

CLAUDIA GALOTTI.

APPIANI. Go, paltry one!-Ha! that has done me good. My blood is stirred. I feel myself another man, and better.

CLAUDIA. (hastily, and with anxiety.) Heaven! My lord Count! I heard violent exchange of words.-Your face is glowing. What has arisen?

APPIANI. Nothing, my dear madam, nothing at all. The chamberlain, Marinelli, has done me a great service. He has spared me the pains of visiting the Prince.

CLAUDIA. In fact?

APPIANI. We may start now by so much the earlier. I go to hasten my people, and return immediately. Emilia, too, will by that time be ready.

CLAUDIA. May I be quite at ease, my lord Count?

APPIANI. Quite at ease, madam.

[Exit, as CLAUDIA retires inwards.

(End of Act II.)

NOTES BY THE WAY.

WE SELECT FOR NOTICE FROM THE EVENTS OF THE PAST MONTH THE PARLIAMENTARY VOTE OF A NATIONAL TESTIMONIAL TO LORD

EXMOUTH, LORD SAUMAREZ, AND SIR W. SIDNEY SMITH.

OUR predilections, literary and peaceful, may, perhaps, seem outraged by the confession we are about to make. It is our firm conviction, notwithstanding all the plausible arguments brought forward to the contrary,-arguments which we have heard none yet bold enough directly to oppose; it is our firm conviction that posthumous honours in the form of monuments, votes of parliament, and the like, are due to the naval or military man, infinitely rather than to the man of science or the man of letters. Our opinion is unbiassed, for our sympathy is with the latter: the man who clamours for thus honouring these mighty dead, however good may be his intentions, exhibits, we will not say a false sympathy, but no sympathy at all. What cares the man of letters for a statue or a column! his monument he builds with his own hands, and wood and stone cannot add to or detract from one atom of his fame; the results of his labours are all tangible; and, if they ought to live, they die not with him. Each new edition of his works is a more effectual and more glorious monument than though men dedicated to his service all the marble in Carrara! He has himself painted the living image of his soul, and the copies of it are in all men's hands; his monuments are by the hearth of every family. How absurdly superfluous would be a column of stone to Shakspere! A fico for your monuments! if you would show yourselves grateful to the man of letters, honour him while he lives! Preach, if you must preach literary patronage, of that your duty; would that you only practised it! But with the sailor and the soldier, how different is this! his bubble reputation glitters, indeed, in bright colours while it lasts; but lasts how short a time! His labours consist of actions which, it seems ridiculous to say, exist not after they are completed; his valour is displayed, his country served, and it remains only with that country not to forget by whom the service was performed.

That he may not die, and the world forget that he hath been among the actors on it, is the aspiration of a noble mind; yet on what but the memory of his countrymen has his country's defender to depend? He leaves nothing tangible, nothing substantive to remind his nation of their debt; these tangible memorials that nation erects for him, artificial aids to memory. Upon brass and marble she records the debt of gratitude; and pays that tribute of fame, the reward which her noble champions so ardently desire. A country that thus, by honouring those who have served her, shows herself alive to the merits of her brave defenders, offers the noblest incentive to present exertion; and since it is upon that exertion, and the character of its champions, that a nation's welfare must depend, it is reduced to nothing less than the most needful policy, to show, from time to time, a sense of that gratitude which the unflinching courage and devoted patriotism of our British heroes ought always to inspire. The selection on the present occasion has been made most happily. The actions rewarded are sufficiently distant to ensure the calm judgment with which

alone true merit can be praised; yet sufficiently near to be within the memory of men now in their prime; men who in youth glowed over the deeds of the heroes, and in manhood, seeing that they have met with their reward, are incited with good cause to a noble emulation.

In this triplet of brave men, honour is done at once to the whole service: it is, in fact, a monument to the Naval character-a monument to the British seaman, not merely as a man of valour, but in that character which has won for him his highest laurels-as a man generous as brave-as humane as he is daring and intrepid.

For what is Lord Exmouth distinguished?-For a long string of brilliant achievements; for the terrible action against Algiers, in opposition to an inhuman slave-trade; for the indomitable courage of an Englishman ;- but for something more. We can name other actions:-when scarcely fledged as a commander, with his own hand he saved from drowning, at different times, two of his men, once when himself dangerously ill. He never issued to a subordinate a harsh command, or ordered what he would not do himself. To promote cheerfulness, he would himself share the common labour. In 1796, when the Dutton East Indiaman struck near the citadel at Plymouth, and the whole crew were on the point of perishing, when the danger was so great that only one man could be found to assist in the hazardous attempt; then, by the (with this exception) single humane exertions of Lord Exmouth, and at the imminent risk of his own life, the hopeless crew was saved. Another time, when, on a cruise, having captured a French vessel, he found on board the wife of a deputy who was going with £3,000, the produce of her property, to join her husband in exile; with true nobility, he restored his portion of the prize-money, and paid to the poor woman, out of his own private purse, the share which had fallen to his subordinates. These are the British seamen, whom our country will do well indeed to honour! We wish that we had space to dwell on the glories of these three brave men; not because we think they are not fully known, but because they are topics upon which, as Englishmen, we love to dwell. Could we but recount the perseverance of Saumarez,-another flower in this wreath of naval glory; the chivalry of Sir Sydney Smith,* whose soul seemed transplanted from the ages of tilt and tourney, the hero of some troubadour minstrel,-rushing with the enterprise and knight-errantry of youth into the most fearful dangers, and coming out of them successful and unscathed,– indued with all the courtesy and noble generosity of the ancient chevalier :-could we dilate upon the defence of Acre against the whole forces of Napoleon, the repulse of the enraged general after two months of incessant combat.

Enough has already passed through our minds to awaken in us an enthusiastic feeling of rejoicing, that, in the midst of angry debates and political animosities, parliament should have paused awhile cheerfully to perform an act of policy and duty, to confer with discrimination those honours which form the highest ambition of a noble mind, next to the conviction seldom indeed, if ever, absent from a British sailor's bosom, that he has done his duty.

* We refer our readers with pleasure to "The Life of Sir Sidney Smith," by Mr. Howard; as a piece of literature it is of very moderate pretension, but as a piece of feeling it is most worthy of perusal. We know no life of a man whose trade was arms, written in such truly honourable and christian spirit.

THE

KING'S COLLEGE MAGAZINE.

OCTOBER, 1842.

HISTORY AND HISTORIANS.

No. VI.

In the preceding papers we have taken a general view of the study of history, the various methods in which it may be pursued, the dangers attendant on each, and the remedies which they demand. I do not mean that any directions have been given as to the best manner of acquiring a knowledge of history, or any remarks made on the relative merits of any works intended for that object; but rather that the turn and temper of mind in which history should be read has been examined, and somewhat has been said on the leading principles which must guide us in its investigations. Little has been advanced on the magnitude and importance of the subject; this, in fact, all are ready to admit, few, alas! practically to remember. It is not one to be exalted into grandeur for the brief space of an essay, and forgotten with the praise which has been lavished on it; there is rather reason to fear lest some, when led to view the study in its true extent, and glance at the profound principles, intricate series of causation, and vast results which it shadows forth, should feel convinced that for any but the greatest minds it is useless to enter upon it. True it is, that to attain such proficiency in this study as to be a guide and example to others, does require mental and moral endowments of no ordinary character. But in this, as in every other pursuit, it is not merely to the greatest proficients that real and sound benefits accrue. We do not reject the study of the classics, because we do not hope to equal the attainments of a Porson or a Hermann, or judge mathematics useless to us, because we see no chance of surpassing the discoveries of Newton.