But the salutary reflection, which ought to arise from the sublime discussions of which the English parliament was the theatre, is this;-that the ministerial party was always in the right when it combated jacobinism and military despotism, but always in the wrong, and greatly in the wrong, when it made itself the enemy of liberal principles in France. The members of the opposition, on the contrary, deviated from the noble functions which are attributed to them, when they defended men whose crimes were ruining the cause of the human race; and this same opposition has deserved well of posterity, when it supported the generous few of the friends of freedom, who for twentyfive years have devoted themselves to the hatred of both parties in France, and who have no strength but what they derive from one powerful alliance -the alliance of truth. Robespierre and Danton. No name of the epoch of the Convention will remain, except Robespierre. Yet he was neither more able nor more eloquent than the rest; but his political fanaticism had a character of calmness and austerity, which made him feared by all his colleagues. I once conversed with him at my father's house, in 1789, when he was known merely as an advocate of the province of Artois, who carried to a great height his democratical principles. His features were mean, his complexion pale, his veins of a greenish hue; he maintained the most absurd propositions, with a coolness which had the air of conviction; and I could easily believe, that, at the beginning of the revolution, he had adopted sincerely certain ideas, upon the equality of fortunes as well as of ranks, which he caught in the course of his reading, and with which his envious and mischievous character was delighted to arm itself. But he became ambitious, when he had triumphed over his rival in the arts of the demagogue, Danton, the Mirabeau of the mob. The latter had more genius than Robespierre, and was more accessible to pity; but it was suspected, and with reason, that he was not proof against the seductions of money; a weakness which, in the end, always ruins demagogues; for the people cannot endure those who enrich themselves: this is a species of self-denial with which nothing can prevail upon them to dispense. Danton was factious, Robespierre was hypocritical: Danton was fond of pleasure, Robespierre only of power; he sent to the scaffold some as counterrevolutionists, others as ultra-revolutionists. There was something mysterious in his manner, which caused an unknown terror to hover about in the midst of the ostensible terror which the government proclaimed. He never adopted the means of popularity then generally in use; he was not ill dressed; on the contrary, he was the only person who wore powder in his hair; his clothes were neat, and his countenance had nothing familiar. The desire of ruling carried him, without doubt, to distinguish himself from others, at the very moment when equality in every thing was desired. Traces of a secret design are also perceived in the perplexed harangues which he made in the convention, and which, in some respects, recall to our recollection those of Cromwell. It is rarely, indeed, that any one, who is not a military chief, can become dictator. But the civil power had then much more influence than the military: the republican spirit led to a distrust of all the victorious generals; the soldiers themselves delivered up their leaders, as soon as the least alarm with respect to their fidelity arose. Political dogmas, if the name can be applied to such wanderings of intellect, reigned at that time, and not men. Something abstract was wanted in authority, that every body might be thought to have a share in it. Robespierre had acquired the reputation of high democratical virtue, and was believed incapable of personal views: as soon as he was suspected, his power was at an end. The Emperor Alexander of Russia. I have had the honour of conversing several times with the emperor Alexander, at St. Petersburgh and at Paris, at the time of his reverses, as at the time of his triumph. Equally unaffected, equally calm in either situation, his mind, penetrating, judicious, and wise, has ever been consistent. His conversation is wholly unlike what is commonly called an official conversation; no insignificant question, no mutual embarrassment condemns those who approach him to those Chinese phrases, if we may so express ourselves, which are more like bows than words. The love of humanity inspires the emperor Alexander with the desire of knowing the true sentiments of others, and of treating, with those whom he thinks worthy of the discussion, on the great views which may be conducive to the progress of social order. On his first entrance into Paris, he discoursed with Frenchmen of different opinions, like a man who can venture to enter the lists of conversation without reserve. In war his conduct is equally courageous and humane; and of all lives it is only his own that he exposes without reflection. We are justified in expecting from him, that he will be eager to do his country all the good which the state of its knowledge admits. Although he keeps on foot a great armed force, we should do wrong to consider him in Europe as an ambitious mo narch. His opinions have more sway with him than his passions; and it is not, so far as I can judge, at conquest that he aims; a representative government, religious toleration, the improvement of mankind by liberty and the Christian religion, are no chimeras in his eyes. If he accomplish his designs, posterity will award him all the honours of genius; but if the circumstances by which he is surrounded, if the difficulty of finding instruments to second him, do not permit of his realizing his wishes, those who shall have known him will at least be apprised that he had conceived the most elevated views. M. de Talleyrand. M. de Talleyrand considers politics as a manœuvre, to be regulated by the prevailing winds, and stability of opinion is by no means his characteristic. This is called cleverness, and something of this cleverness is perhaps necessary to veer on thus to the end of a mortal life; but the fate of a country should be guided by men whose principles are invariable; and in times of trouble, above all, that flexibility, which seems the height of political art, plunges public affairs into insurmountable difficulties. Be this as it may, M. de Talleyrand is, when he aims at pleasing, the most agreeable man whom the old government produced; it was chance that placed him amidst popular dissensions: he brought to them the manners of a court; and those graces, which ought to be suspected by the spirit of democracy, have often seduced men of coarse dispositions, who felt themselves captivated, without knowing how. Nations which aim at liberty, should beware of choosing such defenders; those poor nations without armies, and without treasure, inspire attachment only to conscientious minds. The Abbé Sieyes. In the first rank on the popular side of the constituent assembly was seen the Abbé Sieyes, insulated by his peculiar temper, although surrounded by admirers of his talents. Till the age of forty he had led a solitary life, reflecting on political questions, and carrying great powers of abstraction into that study; but he was ill qualified to hold communication with other men, so easily was he hurt by their caprices, and so ready was he to irritate them in his turn. But, as he possessed a superior mind, with a keen and laconic manner of expressing himself, it was the fashion in the assembly to show him an almost superstitious respect. Mirabeau had no objection to hear the silence of the Abbé Sieyes extolled above his own eloquence, for rivalship of such a kind is not to be dreaded. People imagined that Sieyes, that mysterious man, possessed secrets in government, from which surprising effects were expected whenever he should reveal them. Some young men, and even some minds of great compass, professed the highest admiration for him; and there was a general disposition to praise him at the expense of every body, because he on no occasion allowed the world to form a complete estimate of him. One thing, however, was known with certainty-his detestation of the distinctions of nobility; and yet he retained, from his professional habits, an attachment to the clerical order, which he showed in the clearest way possible at the time of the suppression of the tithes. They wish to be free, and do not know how to be just,' was his remark on that occasion; and all the faults of the assembly were comprised in these words. But they ought to have been applied equally to those various classes of the community who had a right to pecuniary indemnities. The attachment of the Abbé Sieyes to the clergy would have ruined any other man in the opinion of the popular party; but, in consideration of his hatred to the noblesse, the party of the Mountain forgave him his partiality to the priests. CEYLON. Immense Boa.-Some time ago Mr. Edwin, an Englishman, resident in the East Indies, saw a boa constrictor that measured thirty-three feet four inches in length. It was covered with scales, and ridged in the centre; the head was green, with large black spots in the middle, yellow streaks round the jaws, and a circle like a golden collar round the neck, and another black spot behind that; the head was flat and broad, with eyes monstrously large and very bright and terrible; its sides were of a dusky olive colour; its back was very beautiful, a broad streak of black, curled and waved at the sides, running along it-along the edges of this and a narrow streak of fleshy colour, on the outside of which was a broad streak of a bright yellow, waved and curled, and spotted at small distances with roundish and long blotches of a blood colour. When it moved in the sun it appeared exquisitely beautiful. It had perched itself on a large palm tree; as a fox passed by, it darted down upon him, and in a few minutes took him into his stomach. Next morning a monstrous tiger about the height of a heifer, passing, it darted down, seized him by the back with its teeth, and twined itself three or four times round his body; it then loosed its teeth from his back and seized his head, tearing and grinding, and choking him at once, whilst the furious tiger resisted to the utmost; finding him hard to be conquered, and his bones not easily broken, it, by winding its tail around his neck, dragged him to the tree, and then setting him against it, twined himself about both him and the tree, and crushed him against it till his ribs and the bones of his legs, and at last his skull, were broken and bruised; after it had killed him with this inexpressible torture of about a day's continuance, it coated over his body with slaver till it became like a lump of red flesh, and at last, with a labour of some hours' continuance, sucked up the whole carcass into his stomach. While it was gorged herewith, and no doubt fatigued with the late toil, Mr. Edwin and his Ceylonese companions Sierra Leone.-A letter from this place, dated Jan. 21, 1818, gives the following account of the settlement, and the manners and customs of the natives: 'I have visited several of the towns in the interior. Regent's-town is the principal. It contains a population of 1700 liberated slaves: there is a handsome church, but not sufficiently large, and therefore now receiving an addition. There is a very handsome house for the minister and teacher. It was a most gratifying sight to see the full congregation of both sexes, very neatly dressed, and particularly well behaved, go through their several exercises, reading the Bible, reciting and singing hymns, &c. The church and parsonage were principally built by the young men, who have learned masonry and carpentering, under the direction of two or three European instructors. The first classes are now all married, and fifty of them have formed a building society, the plan and object of which is to build stone houses, on a certain scale for each other, according to priority by lot, till the whole number shall be completed, which will be a few years hence.' and the Directors of the British Institution have awarded the artist a premium of 150 guineas. Count Camillo Borgia of Rome, nephew of the last cardinal of that name, succeeded some time since, in ingratiating himself with the Bey of Tunis, and obtained the permission, never before given to a stranger, not only to penetrate into the interior of that kingdom, but to examine the sites of its ancient cities, and excavate in Ancient Utica, at his leisure. He spent two years in research and visited upwards of two hundred and fifty ancient cities and villages in ruins. He has taken drawings of several hundred monuments never described, and copied a multitude of inscriptions, Latin, Greek, and Punic, altogether unknown. Among the monuments of which he has complete designs, are temples, theatres, amphitheatres, porticos, baths, fountains, statues, &c. During his residence among the Arabs, and Moors, he carefully studied their usages, character and condition; and had access to the library of the Bey, which sheds important light upon the history of the kingdom of Tunis. The whole result of the Count's interesting researches, is now in a course of publication at Naples, and will fill five large volumes octavo, besides an atlas of about one hundred engravings, to be executed by the ablest masters. Books recently published in England. An Essay on the principles and construction of Military Bridges, and the passage of rivers in military operations. By Sir Howard Douglas, inspector general of the roy al military college at Farnham. The practical and theoretical principles of making Malt. By John Reynoldson, esq. The Law of Merchant Ships and Shipping. By F. L. Holt, esq. Sermons on the offices and character of Jesus Christ. Works lately published in Paris. Journal of Pharmacy and the subsidiary Sciences. By Vauquelin, Bouillon, Lagrange, &c. Nos. 1 & 2, for the 4th year. A complete History of the Trial of the murderers of M. Fualdès, embellished with portraits and engravings. Supplement to the Works of Diderot; containing Travels in Holland; more of his joint correspondence with Grimm; Political Fragments, Tales, &c. Belisarius-a Tragedy. By M. de Jouy, the author of the Parisian Spec tator. The Méroveid, a poem, in 14 cantos. By N. Lemercier, member of the Institute. Philosophical and Literary Miscellany, of the 18th century. By the Abbé Morellet. Chronology and complete Chronicles of Eusebius-an Armenian translation of the fifth century, with a Latin version and notes. Theoretical and practical Treatise on the art of Building; in 4 vols. 4to. By M. Rondelet, member of the Insti tute. The following charming little composition is taken from the Mississippi Republican. It would do honour to the muse of Moore, and we therefore sincerely hope it may be of American origin. TO PLEASURE. Oh, Pleasure! I have fondly woo'd, Awhile, I deeply sorrow'd o'er The wreck of all that perish'd then; But wilder, sweeter, than before, Thy smile though distant beam'd again. And, my sad heart, tho' deeply chill'd, Still panting, sought thy lov'd embrace, Trac'd every path, thy votaries fill'd, To meet thee in thy Resting Place. I saw thee, mantling warm in wine, But wine and beauty both conspir'd To fill my soul with dark regret; And now;-with scarce a feeling warm, When all should bloom in hearts unwasted; I turn me, from thy lovely form, Thy joys unknown, thy sweets untasted. Then fare thee well, deceitful shade! Tho' bright the charms that still adorn thee; Too fondly press'd, they withering fade, For the Analectic Magazine. In the year 1793, an unknown maniac, whose dress and figure bore the vestiges of a once better lot, wandered to Ballycastle, a beautiful village on the shore of the county of Antrim, Ireland. He was sullen, melancholy, and incommunicative: his days and nights were spent among the lofty rocks in the neighbourhood of the bay, and his food was the shell-fish or sea-weed that was washed in by the tide. A life of such hardship and privation would soon have terminated the career of one endued with unimpaired reason; but insanity hardens the constitution by depriving it of a sense of its affliction, and by diverting the mind from real, to imaginary objects. At certain periods of the month his sullenness was changed to frenzy, he would then groan and shriek as if suffering from excessive anguish, and although the neighbouring peasantry were frequently disturbed by his nightly moanings, yet as he never attempted any act of violence, they suffered him unrestrained to indulge his misery. For several weeks he continued thus alternately melancholy or outrageous, until one night, in the latter end of July, when the neighbouring cottagers were awakened by the loudness and horror of his shrieks. For a while they continued violent, then grew fainter, and at length sunk in total silence. Early the following morning, a fisherman arose to examine a kelp-kiln, which he had lit the night before, when the shocking spectacle of the half consumed maniac met his sight. The wretched sufferer, while wandering on the projecting ledge of a steep cliff, had missed his footing, tumbled down the precipice, and rolled into the blazing kiln, which burned at the base of the rock! His mutilated remains were enveloped in a piece of sail cloth, and buried in a little green recess at the foot of the precipice from which he fell. The verdure of this spot is rendered more lively, by being contrasted with the gray tints of the surrounding rocks: it is adorned with seapink and other marine flowers, and on no part of the romantic shores of Antrim, does the traveller of taste, feel emotions more varied, or sensations more interesting, than on the spot where heaves THE MADMAN'S GRAVE. Where Rathlin's fierce contending tides, In storms and calms incessant roar, And rudely lash the moss-grown sides Of Ballycastle's rock-bound shore. Where western winds for age prevail And chide the weary wanderers stay, Who crowd the heaven aspiring sail, And swiftly fly the dangerous bay.* Unmark'd by any sculptur'd stone. The lonely night-hawk screaming flies The maniac's form for ever lies. No plated mockery held his frame, No train of friends wept o'er his bier; No child sobb'd loud a father's name, Or kiss'd a speechless mother's tear. Long, long beside the dangerous shore Beneath the wint'ry blast he stray'd, And mingled with the ocean's roar The dreadful cries he nightly made. His feet by every rough rock torn, Through snares of death he urg'd his way; With him despair rose every morn, And clos'd each sad and cheerless day. Yet dark oblivion's gloomy veil, O'er all his senses was not flungThe midnight wanderer heard the tale, Of deep distress flow from his tongue. Remembrance rack'd his tortur'd brain Where hope has fled, a dreadful guest, And incoherence mark'd the strain, Which sighs convey'd from misery's breast. Dire was the night, when his last cry Pierc'd sad and oft the troubled air: The sun rose o'er the Fairhead high But shone upon no maniac there. The storm may raise the troubled sea, The wild winds o'er the mountain rave; The maniac's soul from pain is free He sleeps in yonder nameless grave. Oh God of heaven! on me look down; Though dark distress be ever mine, Let reason still maintain her throne, And I will bear, and not repine. With reason all my steps to guide My soul shall shine supremely brave,When mercy shuns the vault of pride, And peace wide opens misery's grave. M. B. |