correspondent before the affair of the 15th May, when Citizen Sobrier
  and Citizen Caussidière seem to have played such parts as might have
  been expected of them.

Although they cannot, of course, find their place as "symbols,"
inasmuch as music cannot be said to assume an outward and bodily form,
yet the "patriotic hymns," as they are called, which are to be heard
upon all occasions, by day and by night, screamed discordantly in
chorus by a people that vaunts its musical capabilities, but
invariably sings out of tune,--shouted by groups of workmen, assuming
the nature of a very inharmonious glee in knots,--yelled at the top of
voices in quartets, duos, and trios of wandering _gamins_,--screeched
in ear-rending solos,--whistled by workmen,--bawled by little
children, hummed by women, or played on hand-organs on the boulevards,
and hunting-horns at the street corners,--may be also taken as
expressions of sentiments. The "_Marseillaise_" is accepted as a
traditionary musical accompaniment of all liberal, and especially
republican revolutionary movements in France. As the revolutionary
movement is incontestible, and as the establishment of the republic is
looked upon as a _fait accompli_, nothing can be said upon its being
chorussed incessantly,--much as, internally, many a musical ear may
flinch from the torture committed upon it by the hideous disharmony of
its executors,--much as the words may be repulsive to many feelings,
and appear senseless in the mouths of the citizens of a republic
established upon a basis of peace and order--much as many a heart may
beat painfully, the flesh creep with a shudder upon many a body, and
the hair stand on an end on many a head, on hearing that fearful
melody, however finely it may be composed, which recalls to so many a
mind the horrors of past days--scenes of pikes supporting bleeding
heads, a parent dead upon the scaffold, or a narrow personal escape
from death. But the Marseillaise has in general been accepted as the
symbolical hymn of the republic, and people "make up their minds to
it." The newly-composed hymn of the Girondins, as it is called,
affords little cause for horror and dismay, more especially as it has
been taken from a drama, in which the terrors of the first revolution
have been placed upon the stage with a truth and force of nature
sufficient to cause every soul that witnesses them to shudder with
apprehension, at the barest thought of their possible return. The
eternal recurrence at all times to the ear of the words, "_Mourir pour
la patrie, c'est le sort le plus digne d'envie_," may raise a smile
when heard from such mouths as often chorus it about, or may again
appear an anomaly in the character officially assumed by the present
republic--but the Girondin hymn is connected with no thought of past
evil or of living terror. Both these melodies, then, are accepted
without any repugnance, except the repugnance that the wearied ear
must feel at hearing the same notes dinned into it at all times, in
all places, and with every species of disharmony. But there are other
melodies, from which the better-thinking mass draws back with horror
and disgust--they are looked upon as symbolical of terror, violence,
and bloodshed--they turn the soul "sick with fear." If a body of
workmen--and, for the character of the French republic be it said,
that this is of rare occurrence--or a mob, formed of those fearful
hordes that come rushing down upon the city from the distant
faubourgs, or seem to spring out of the earth one knows not whence, at
all times of tumult or disorderly movement--be heard shouting the
_Carmagnole_ or the "_Ca ira_," of terrific memory, men turn aside;
for such fellows who can sing such songs cannot be otherwise than
ruffians of the lowest description, or, at best, men led astray by the
violence of the party rancour instilled into them by evil-thinking
_exaltés_, or too young and foolish, or too reckless and headstrong,
to know the fearful importance of the words they sing, and the terror
they inspire. Let it be hoped that in truth they know not what words
they use, when they howl, "_Les aristocrates à la lanterne--les
aristocrates on les tuera_," and the inflammatory consequences the
repetition of such words may bring forth. As yet the "_Ca ira_" is
heard but seldom, and but partially. When this symbolical chaunt of
destruction and death shall be chorussed aloud by a populace in
general mass, then most assuredly will the sentiment also have been
spread abroad, and widely--the sentiment of envy, rancour,
intolerance, and bloodshed--the sentiment of 1793; and then may France
be assured that she is lost--that she has fallen into the very slough
and mire of blood and terror. Heaven protect her from the "_Ca ira_!"
One of the first acts of a legally-constituted authority should be to
punish every wretch who dared even to hum it under his breath.

For the same reason a protest should be made against the singing of
the "Marseillaise" by the far-famed actress, Mademoiselle Rachel, at
the first theatre of France, and more especially since this terrific
exhibition is given also upon the occasions when the theatre is
gratuitously opened to the public. The terrible vigour of this actress
in the delineation of the worst and fiercest passions of the human
breast--anger, rage, scorn, malice--is well known to the world. The
singing of the "Marseillaise" has excited a tumult of enthusiasm. At a
time when all the theatres in Paris languished, and pined away to the
bare benches, and even died--some of them from inanition, poor
things!--the Théâtre Français was nightly crammed to its throat in the
very upper galleries, to gaze upon this strange spectacle. Before
witnessing this feat of Mademoiselle Rachel, it was natural to suppose
that she would assume the part of an inspired Joan of Arc, leading on
a people to combat and victory. Bitter was the disappointment of those
who indulged this poetic fancy. Her gestures, while singing the
patriotic hymn, are energetic, if not grand, her attitudes fine, her
_poses plastiques_ picture-like; but what is the whole character of
her delivery--what the expression she bestows? Those of hatred,
malice, revenge, bloodthirstiness. She calls "to arms" as Satan may
have summoned the accursed angels. She is not for a moment the
inspired guardian angel of a suffering country, heaven-sent to avenge
its wrongs: she is the demon of darkness scattering destruction and
death from the sheer love of death and destruction. Her flatterers
have called her "a Muse"--then she must needs be the Muse of
Vengeance! the Muse of Malice! the Muse of Blood! She sinks her voice
to sing the words, "_Amour sacré de la patrie_;" but with what a
spirit of concentrated bitterness does she pronounce them! There is
not a breath of love in the least inflexion of her voice: every tone
breathes "hate--hate--hate," with all the bitterness of hatred. What a
look of fury, malice, scorn, and reckless revenge possesses her face
during her whole delivery! One would suppose that she must have some
private wrongs of her own to avenge upon society, or upon the
denounced aristocracy of society, so spontaneous appears the flood of
blood-mixed bile that flows from her lips. A shudder pervades your
whole frame, your hair stands on end; and willingly would you turn
away your head with horror and disgust, did she not fascinate you by
the power of her energy, and cast an evil spell upon you by the charm
of the sculptured beauty of her forcible attitudes. Ay! would a
sculptor study a true model of a demon of revenge, he could not study
a better one than Mademoiselle Rachel, as she delivers the
Marseillaise. But it is this very fascination that is dangerous.
Hundreds of spectators, who applaud with frenzy, leave the theatre
instinctively connecting in their minds the Marseillaise with all the
most fearful and deadly passions of the human breast. The bitterness
of bitterness pervades their recollection of it--a vision of the
demon-like actress floats before their eyes; they murmur the melody
themselves involuntarily, with the same feelings of hatred, revenge,
and bloodthirstiness. Oh! anathema on the actress who would inspire
the citizens of France with feelings so vile--who knows her power over
the masses, and so fearfully misuses it--who, when she might modify,
exaggerates, and goads on to fury! The evil that this representation
may produce is incalculable. Who can tell how far the leaven of gall
that she infuses into the popular melody, that is in every body's
mouth, and rings in every body's ear, may not leaven the whole
sentiment connected with it? Yes! woe and anathema to the actress! The
more terrible sentiment connected with the symbol had faded from men's
minds, and she would again connect the symbol with sentiments of
terror and revenge.

All tendencies to return upon the bloody track of the past are equally
condemnable: every symbolical reminiscence of that past is equally to
be avoided. It ought to be scouted by the good sense of the
better-thinking citizens of France, and put down by all the moral
force that public remonstrance, reasoning, satire, and ridicule may
command in the public prints. There was a time when a new-born French
republic, in the heyday folly of its early youth, and with all the
silly fancies of silly puerile years--and who of us, as a youngster,
has not had such?--sought for its models, and emblems, and symbols, in
the most ancient republics of Europe; and weened that, if it assumed
the outward forms, and wore the names of those old times, it must
necessarily inherit the supposed virtues of the days of Greece and
Rome: those virtues which, to its fancy, consisted chiefly in
uncompromising sternness, and _soi-disant_ patriotic hard-heartedness.
And, like a silly boy, the first French republic rendered itself
ridiculous by its extravagant absurdities. Like a stage-struck hero of
the same age, it exaggerated and overacted its part: it fancied that
it had but to put on the robe, and take the name, and strut and
swagger; and that it would act the part, if not to the life, at least
with wonderful effect. Unlike the silly boy, however, it went beyond
the contemptible,--it became frantic, furious, bloodyminded--it became
terrible: its hot young brains were turned, and dreamt bad dreams of
cruelty and carnage. Those were the days when men unbaptised
themselves of their old names, and called themselves "Brutus," and
"Aristides," and "Scevola," and "Leonidas," and deemed themselves
great and doughty patriots, with all the virtues of the antique,
because they had so put their names down among the _dramatis personæ_
in the bill of the play. Those were the days when women wore Grecian
tunics, and exposed their naked charms to the inclemencies of a foggy
northern sky; and happy would the results of all this nonsense have
been, had the republic only caught a cold, or a sore throat, or a
toothach: unfortunately, it caught a fever, a sore soul, and a
heartach. Those were the days when fasces were carried abroad in
public fêtes, as emblems of liberty,--fasces! those true emblems of
constraint and tyranny--of constraint by the stick, of tyranny by the
axe,--fasces! such as lictors carried before Nero; and the fasces were
stamped upon the coins of the republic, surmounted by a cap of
liberty! Those were the days when Greece and Rome were _soi-disant_
models, greedily swallowed, ill digested, and producing nausea,
loathing, and sickness. The Grecian and the Roman symbols, therefore,
were symbols to be avoided and repulsed. They remind of the past; they
prepare people's minds for its return; they bring with them visions of
blood. In the very heart's core of the people, with the Grecian
allegories, and the Spartan virtues, and the fasces, are intimately
connected _comités de salut public_, and denunciations unto death, and
the guillotine. Away with them then! refer not to them again! repel
them, second French republic, from your fêtes, and your public
ceremonies, and your coins! They are all so many prickly whips to
drive men's minds back to the bloody past, and urge them again along
the self-same blood-stained road. Surely, too, the day of such
worn-out theatrical humbug is past: the world has grown more civilised
and more sensible: the age of allegorical absurdities is gone by.
True! the world has also lost much of its poetry and romance; and
there may be those who regret it, and would be foolish still; but all
this _Greco-Franco_ republican romance and poetry, borrowed of the
ancients, is now sadly out of place. What do I say?--is to be shunned
as the plague-fraught garment from the East, that, when thrown upon
your shoulders, may extend a fatal disease far and wide among the
land, that may become another robe of Nessus to burn and consume you
to the bones; and when once thrown on, not to be torn away again
without tearing with it the healthful flesh, and the very blood of
life. And yet there are those who would seem determined ever to refer
back to the past days, ever to spur along the old road, and who appear
to dream that they can never produce the effect they want, but by
spreading the poisoned garment over the back of France. There has been
a reckless Minister of the Interior, who, hand-in-hand with a
strong-minded but ill-judging woman, full of strange subversive
fancies, which she proclaims with a masculine voice, and in a nominal
masculine garb, seems to forget the importance of such symbols over
the easily exciteable imaginations of the French, or perhaps even--may
God forgive him, if so it be!--adopts the symbols of the past, in
order to prepare the way for its return, and for the return to his own
hands of the tyranny of democratic despotism. It is he who has
declared it his high will, that the spirit of the country should be
_travaillé_--_i. e._ tortured--to his own furious sense: and, in
truth, the maintenance of such symbols is a pretty and convenient
manner to _travailler_ the public spirit with all the taking gaudiness
of outward show. As Minister of the Interior, he is supreme institutor
and instigator of popular fêtes, and public republican ceremonies:
and, whether of his own fancy, or under the influence of the
promptings of minor masters of ceremonies, or of those who would be
such, he appears determined that modern republican shows, festivities,
and ceremonials, should bring back as many reminiscences of those of a
fatal time as possible. In the funeral ceremony of the interment of
those who fell in the days of February,--which, in its very nature, as
well as from the immense masses it called forth of men of all classes,
all corporations, all bodies of the state, citizen troops, and
military, with music, and banners, and streaming ribands, was
sufficiently imposing,--in this ceremony Paris was again bid to
delight itself with the aspect of modern lictors preceding the members
of the Provisional Government, with antique fasces--those eternal
emblematical fasces,--that had been borrowed from the boards of the
_ci-devant_ Théâtre Francais, where they had been used, poor dirty old
things, to be paraded by knock-kneed bearers before all the bloody
tyrants of the classic drama of France: they were "freshened up," it
is true, and made smart, to meet the time and circumstance, by being
bound with new tri-color ribands: but they were no less foolish
symbols, and worse than foolish, from the effect they might have on
sentiments. But this was but the caviare to the feast. A new
republican fête is prepared by the same minister of the interior, and
that, too, at a time when the public treasury is empty, and a national
bankruptcy stares the country in the face--a fête that has no purpose
as an anniversary, unless it be some anniversary of a time to be
forgotten--an uncalled-for fête, that is to be symbolical of a
republican word called "Fraternity," the sense of which no one in
France seems, by any effort, to be able to understand,--in fact, to be
the vague vain emblem of a vague vain word. What does the programme of
this fête set forth? Antique cars, bearing Grecian allegorical
personifications of the new-old deities of the day, drawn by huge oxen
with gilded horns, borrowed of the Eleusinian mysteries!--and little
Lacedemonian girls in white Grecian tunics, singing French patriotic
hymns on the boulevards under Grecian pavilions,--hear it, shade of
Coleman's Mr Sterling, and rejoice!--and Grecian tripods with burning
flames at street-corners--and painted Grecian statues, allegorical of
all sorts of fancied Grecian virtues, under the trees of the Champs
Elysées--and nonsense only knows how many other Grecian attributes of
canvass and pasteboard, and carpentry-work, and stage decoration in
all manner of high places. Out upon them all! Were we to turn to some
edict of the past, issued for the celebration of the pure and mighty
virtues of the days of the Convention, we should find exactly the same
programme of some fête of fraternity in those fraternal times,
ordained and arranged by the famous artist, Citizen David, the pure
taste of whose classic pictures all amateurs, who have visited Paris,
may have had the happiness of admiring in the galleries of the
_ci-devant_ Louvre.

No less to be condemned, for similar reasons, as uselessly and even
deleteriously calling into life the past, was the edict of the
Provisional Government, enacting that the representatives of the
people in the national assembly should have a uniform costume, similar
to that worn by the heroes of the Convention. This idea emanated,
doubtless, from the same violent and misdirected source as the
Greco-republican programme de fête: but why, it may be asked, did the
more sensible and moderate majority of that government lend its hand
to sign such a decree? The immense, majority, however, of the
representatives of the people, who are unwilling, at the same time, to
be the representatives of the ideas of '93, have, in their good
sense, done justice to this edict, by their disdain of its ordinances,
and their refusal to wear the costume imposed upon them. They felt the
full force of the symbol they were told to adopt; they felt the
dangerous importance of the sentiment that would be attached to it:
they rejected the symbol; and they disavowed the sentiment. And they
did well. The cocked hat with its gold-lace border, such as may be
seen, in pictures, on the head or in the hand of Danton or St Just,
was declared simply absurd, if nothing more: the tri-color scarf, to
be bound round their waists, with its gold fringe, was thought
puerile; but the celebrated white waistcoat, the fatal white
waistcoat, with its broad lappels flung back upon the shoulders--that
waistcoat known only under the popular names of the "_gilet à la
Robespierre_,"--or the "_gilet à la guillotine_"--the new
representatives of the people of a new republic, founded upon other
principles, flung aside with indignation. The "_gilet à la
Robespierre!_"--the very name was sufficient to excite feelings of
abhorrence; and the edict, although it of course withheld the name,
raised a storm of angry remonstrance and refusal. The whole
affair,--the edict as the indignation,--may be considered as puerile,
frivolous, and unworthy of strong feeling. But, again it must be
repeated, the men who were told to don this costume knew what the
sentiment would be that such a display of symbolical attire would
excite; and a great importance was attached to it, which men in other
countries may not understand, but which those who know the French, and
their facility to be led away by the outward symbol, will entirely
appreciate. It may seem ridiculous to say--and yet it may not be far
off the truth--that many a representative of the people, who may now
talk sage and sensible moderation, might have thundered forth the
excess of democratic violence, had his bosom borne across it the
"_gilet à la Robespierre_."

There are other symbols of the great watchwords of the day; those ill
understood and oft misconstrued words,--those words which are so
constantly put forward by the violent to mean the very contrary of
what they are intended to express,--the words "_Liberté! Egalité!
Fraternité!_" and these symbols men think it necessary to exhibit on
all occasions. So be it. They are the rallying cry of the new
republic; let them be symbolised. But let men take care how, and in
what manner, it be done. In the new coins of the republic, upon which
the three mystic words shine, they are strangely enough typified--the
old die of the old coin of the old republic has been used; and perhaps
the allegorical personages that figure on them had then another
signification. As it is, the Hercules in the midst, with the two
ladies by his side, may be interpreted in various ways. Curious
speculators in allegories would in vain endeavour to affix each of
these three personages to each of the abstractions they are supposed
to represent: there are many, at all events, who decline the task.
Which does Hercules typify? Liberty perchance--the liberty, then, of
force. Or, if the ladies alone represent the qualities that are of the
feminine gender in the French language, which of the three is absent?
which of the three is excluded from being symbolised on the coins of
the French republic? This would be, again, a difficult task to
investigate. All the three are so constantly called in question, so
continually menaced, above all, so little comprehended in general in
the first steps of the French republic, that it would be hard to say
which is the least recognised, although many may give their votes in
favour of the first of the three good dames. But it is not alone upon
the coins that the three deities find their emblems. Lithographic
prints, of every species of good or bad drawing, display them in a
bodily form to admiring eyes at every print-shop. Led away by
pictures, as by all other outward and visible emblems, the French are
easily inflamed by such productions. And, again, a protest should be
entered against the character commonly given to the republican
deities--against that of goddess Liberty more especially. She is
almost invariably represented in an attitude of demoniacal vengeance,
worthy of Mademoiselle Rachel. She has the so-called cap of liberty,
of course, upon her head, but her hand always grasps a sabre, or a
pike, or some such deadly weapon; her countenance is furious, angry,
vengeful. Why should Liberty be represented thus, then, as a
bloodthirsty angel of wrath? why should she be an object to be dreaded
and not loved? Rulers of France, ye should have a care how the
divinity ye proclaim is symbolised to the eyes of the people! the
effect produced, in the fostering of the sentiment, may be more
important than ye choose to think or to acknowledge. The same
reprehension should be cast upon the greater part of those models and
pictures which are exhibited in the _Ecole des beaux arts_, for the
prize to be given for the best personification of the French Republic.
The great majority of these models represent, once more, a perfect
fury of wrath, in all the extravagance of frantic theatrical gesture.
But, my good artists, this is a representation of a French Republic
such as it was in the worst moments of its last reign--not of the
French Republic proclaimed as the living exemplification, not only of
liberty, equality, and fraternity, but of peace, and order, and love!
Could you do nothing better than make bad imitations of a detestable
past? It will be for the famous Minister of the Interior, probably, to
decide which of these personifications is to be raised on high as the
symbol of the republic. He who offered the prize will probably award
it: Paris, then, will soon see what sentiment is to be taught, in the
name of all France, to attach to the symbol.

There is another little trait connected with a people's sentiments
that, slight as it is, may be of more influence in the direction which
the violence of popular commotion may take. This little trait,
although born of an evil and violent feeling, may have a tendency that
not only will not be a harmful one, but may protect from harm. At the
commencement of the revolution,--upon every greater or lesser
demonstration of popular feeling,--the first cry, to the rich or the
supposed rich, was to illuminate their houses in honour of the
sovereign people, or rather of those who assumed the rank and title of
sovereignty wholly to themselves. Above the cries, "_à bas les riches!
à bas les aristocrats!_" prevailed the cry "_des lampions! des
lampions!_" So often, and for so long a time, was this cry heard in
the streets of Paris, that it has now taken the distinct form of one
of those popular shouts used upon all occasions. Is the mob angry, or
is it merry, it cries "_des lampions!_" Is it angry only, this cry
often changes its wrath to merriment: is it impatient, it cries "_des
lampions!_" is it witty, "_des lampions!_" By day as well as night, on
all popular occasions, the cry is heard, and now never fails to excite
a laugh. In the theatres, is a piece to be damned?--the pit and the
galleries cry, "_des lampions!_" Does a declaimer in a street crowd
displease the multitude?--it cries again, "_des lampions!_" The words,
then, have become a popular demonstrative cry; and who can tell how
much in the future this habit may efface the hideous cry of "_à la
lanterne_?"--how much the cry for light may cause the people to forget
the cry for the darkness of death upon the lamp-post--how much, in
truth, popular sentiment may be hereafter influenced by a trait of
popular habit so slight, so frivolous, so ridiculous, and yet,
perhaps, so important in its results. Should it have this working,
there are many who have lost their temper at the ear-rending,
monotonous, irritating cry of "_des lampions_," who may bless the day
when the fancy of the mob adopted this popular and almost historical
cry. Who can tell, indeed, upon what a trifle may depend the direction
given to a people's outbreak, to the course of a revolution, to the
destinies of a country?

Since the courageous action of Lamartine gave a first stamp to the
character of the revolution, by putting down a dangerous sentiment in
its bloody symbol, the violent party has in vain again endeavoured,
_as yet_, to assume its lost supremacy. The horizon is dark with its
menace, it is true, and its thunder growls, its lightnings flash, from
time to time: the storm may be dispersed, or it may break forth, and
then pass away. This is for the future. But whatever men may rule the
destinies of France, they should, like Lamartine, be well aware that
if the French people must be amused with constant displays of symbols,
those symbols must be chosen with care, as the direct, and leading,
and active instigators of their sentiments.

AMERICAN FEELING TOWARDS ENGLAND.

We believe it to be impossible to overrate the importance of the
triumph of order on the 10th of April in London, either as to its
effects on Great Britain or on the world. The complete and signal
success, and at the same time the calm working of the machinery by
which the end was accomplished,--the impression of a vast power felt
throughout, though purposely kept in the background, ready to act if
necessary, but only in the case of necessity; the proof which it
afforded of the perfect soundness of the English mind, extending even
to the masses of the capital amidst the revolutionary contagion; and
the contrast which it exhibited between the well-balanced and elastic
strength of the English constitution, and the unsubstantial systems or
crumbling governments of the Continent, formed a spectacle which no
one could witness without pride, or remember without a feeling of
gratitude and of increased security. It has tranquillised for many a
year the fears of those who had begun to doubt whether even the strong
anchor of our constitution could continue to hold fast against the
strain of the revolutionary current. It has proved, if that indeed
were doubtful, how essentially different are the elements of the
British character from those of the fickle populations of Southern
Europe, among whom revolution had found its adherents; and how
deep-seated in that character is the love of order, respect for
property, deference to established authority, calm and practical good
sense, and that solid groundwork of moral and religious feeling, on
which alone any stable form of government can ever be reared. If,
since that memorable 10th of April, the Continent has begun to obtain
a little truce and breathing time; and even in France the possessors
of property and the friends of order are beginning to be alive at once
to their own danger, and their own strength, and to the necessity of
exerting the forces, moral and physical, which are at their disposal
to put down the approach of anarchy in its most undisguised and
hideous form--it is to the peaceful and majestic triumph of order in
England that these results are to be ascribed.

It cannot but be matter of deep interest to us to learn with what
feelings the danger and the escape of Great Britain were contemplated
in America; a country where the experiment of a republic had been
tried, and where--if the same spirit of propagandism existed which
appears to be the curse of France--it might have been supposed that
the chance of a democratic constitution being established in England,
would have been a subject of congratulation and anticipated triumph.
In Paris, upon the morning of the 12th April, nothing, we are told,
but disappointment was experienced, when the peaceful, and, as they
deemed it, ignominous termination of the proceedings at Kennington
Common was made known. How were the news received by our Transatlantic
brethren? A short extract from the letter of a valued friend in New
York, and one or two from the American papers, will be interesting, we
think, to our readers, as illustrating the state of feeling on the
subject in America.

The tone of the American press on this question has on the whole been
most creditable to the periodical literature of that country. It
proves that, though many points of difference may and must exist
between the two countries,--though the elder may not always have borne
her faculties in the meekest way, and the younger may have often
announced her pretensions with more of petulance than discretion,--
nations sprung of the same lineage, speaking the same language,
cherishing the same literature, cannot be so alienated from each other
by difference of political institutions, or opposition of commercial
interests, as not to feel a warm and cordial interest in each other's
welfare; and to lament, not from mere selfish considerations of
interest, but from higher and more generous sympathies, every calamity
which threatens a kindred nation, with which it feels itself united by
the ties of moral and intellectual relationship.

Our correspondent thus writes:--

                                "_New York, May 1st, 1848._

     ... "The arrival of the steam-ship America at this port on
     Saturday last, bringing the good news of the complete
     triumph of law, liberty, and order in our Fatherland, was
     hailed with a degree of joy that well became true-born
     descendants of British ancestors. That arrival terminated a
     week which, to myself as well as to thousands of others, had
     been one of intense and painful anxiety; for although I
     never dreamed of the probability of a revolution, and never
     doubted the power of government to quell the threatened
     insurrection of the Chartists, I did greatly fear that a
     conflict was inevitable; and I trembled at the possible
     results that might follow, were only a single man in the
     procession to parliament to fall before the bayonets of the
     soldiery. How universal was this fear the newspapers which I
     send you clearly tell; and you will smile at hearing that
     even bets were made that the revolution was complete, and
     England a republic.

     "The course pursued by government, in trusting to a
     voluntary police rather than to the military, exhibited
     their usual wisdom, and has greatly added to the moral
     dignity of their triumph. And the result has fully verified
     the remark in your letter to me in March, that 'the upper
     and middle classes, as also the respectable operatives, are
     most determined to maintain order and the law, irrespective
     of all political differences;' and proves beyond a doubt the
     truth of the proud declaration, in the last number of your
     Magazine, that 'the unbought loyalty of men--the cheap
     defence of nations--still, thank God, subsists among _you_.'

     "Notwithstanding all the extreme excitement aroused
     throughout our land by the Revolution in France, and its
     astounding progress on the Continent, and the confident
     predictions of many that England could not unshaken meet the
     shock of Chartist rebellion,--the instant it was known that
     she had met it and was unmoved--that it had passed
     harmlessly by as a summer cloud, without awakening from its
     slumbers the giant strength it had threatened to
     overcome,--a sensation of relief, a thrill of gladness, a
     feeling of thankfulness, of security, and of admiration,
     seemed to be almost universal, and men greeted each other in
     the streets as those might who had together feared and
     together escaped a great personal calamity.

     "That much of this rejoicing arose from selfishness is very
     true, for so closely connected are the social and commercial
     relations of the two countries, that no blow struck at the
     prosperity of England could be long unfelt in these United
     States. But the fact is scarcely on that account the less
     striking, nor will it, I venture to hope, deprive it of its
     intense significance with those who, like yourselves,
     exercise so great an influence upon the opinions and the
     sympathies of two great nations."

The effect produced upon the _commercial_ affairs of America by the
apprehension of a revolutionary movement in Great Britain, and the
restoration of confidence when the news of the peaceful termination of
the demonstration of the 10th arrived, are thus given in the _Weekly
Herald_ of New York:--

                                    _Sunday, April 30--6 p.m._

     "The week just closed has been one of the most intense
     excitement. The most gloomy anticipations had been formed
     relative to the expected news from England; and we have
     never before seen such a panic growing out of a probable
     event, as that which had taken possession of the public
     mind. The whole thing turned upon the result of the Chartist
     movement in London; and such were the hopes and fears of
     those connected in any way with Great Britain, that it was
     difficult to escape the general depression. Vessels
     freighted for ports in England were not permitted to depart
     until after the arrival of the steamer. Drawers of exchange
     refused to sell any more bills on their agents; prices for
     cotton were steadily drooping in anticipation of a complete
     overthrow of the British government; and a thorough
     derangement existed in every department of industry, and, in
     fact, the greatest consternation prevailed. As soon as it
     was announced that the steamer America was telegraphed, the
     public mind was at once relieved, and stocks advanced, even
     before the news became known. The fact that the steamer was
     coming, that she had sailed on her regular day, satisfied
     all that there had been no change in the government--that
     the Chartist movement had not succeeded, and that, so far
     as political affairs in Great Britain were concerned, every
     thing was quiet. This gave a buoyancy to the market, and the
     reaction upon the public mind was tremendous. When the news
     was read from an _Extra Herald_ to the crowd in Wall Street,
     many men shed tears, and almost a universal shaking of hands
     took place. Many, who imagined they were ruined, found their
     fears groundless; and the long, anxious faces which met us
     at every turn in the business portion of the city during the
     past week, were suddenly changed to those of joy. Vessels
     which have been under an embargo, will now resume their
     voyages; and produce which has been held back, will go
     forward more rapidly. Trade will again move on in the usual
     channels, and renewed confidence will give an impetus to
     commercial transactions generally. The news by the America
     is of vast importance, inasmuch as it has removed the
     immense weight pressing upon the minds of mercantile men,
     and given great relief to all classes; otherwise the news
     does not amount to much, in a commercial point of view. The
     advance in consols was the result more of the reaction in
     the public mind, caused by the manner in which the Chartist
     demonstration passed off, than any thing else, as the
     position of affairs on the Continent kept the market very
     sensitive."

The following article is from the _Morning Express_; and it is
valuable for the justice of its remarks upon the anomalies which
pervade the democratic American constitution, as well as our own, and
which must exist under every form of government which deserves the
name:--

     "THE ATTEMPTED INSURRECTION IN ENGLAND.--The public mind was
     gratefully relieved on Saturday, by the intelligence, flying
     like wild-fire upon the arrival of the America, that the
     Chartist demonstration on Kennington Common failed of its
     main object--viz., that of creating an insurrection among
     the two millions of London, like that which had been created
     among the million of Paris. If England had swung from her
     moorings, as France has, and Italy and Germany have, no one
     could have foreseen the consequences, or ventured to predict
     upon the probable results. Certain it is, however, that
     almost every British business-doing house in the United
     States would have been crushed, and the commerce of the
     world would have been annihilated for a season.

     "The 'six points' of the Chartists of England are no doubt
     known to our readers. The petitioners pray (1) for annual
     parliaments, (2) universal suffrage, (3) vote by ballot, (4)
     equal electoral districts, (5) no property qualification,
     and (6) the payment of members. Now, at the first blush, all
     these seem reasonable enough, if the people want
     them--although there is no proof that they do, but rather
     proof to the contrary,--but when we remember that, in this
     country, not one of these points, save the payment of
     members of Congress, is universally recognised as the law of
     the land, it is not for us to say a word in favour of the
     Chartists of England, at least until we make their
     theoretical 'points' _our_ 'points' in practice. We have no
     _annual Congress_. Members of the House are elected for two
     years, and members of the Senate for six years. We have no
     universal suffrage. The three millions of slaves do not
     vote. The negroes in the Free States do not vote (two or
     three States excepted) without a property qualification. In
     democratic Virginia, a man must be a freeholder to vote. In
     some of the other States there are also rigid restrictions.
     The vote by ballot is known nowhere in the Slave States. The
     _viva voce_ is the only mode of voting, and it is not
     certain that it is not the best way. Equal electoral
     districts do not exist in this country. Six hundred white
     men in South Carolina or Louisiana elect as many members of
     Congress as six thousand in New York. The little State of
     Delaware, entitled to but one member of Congress, elects as
     many Senators as New York, entitled to her thirty-six
     members in the Lower House. Thus, whatever evils the
     Chartists groan under, if any, we groan under here in these,
     their _beau-ideal_, United States. But, if we are
     misgoverned here, or if misgovernment exists in England, it
     is vain to deny that it is our own fault. No revolution, no
     exertion of physical force, can better our condition. The
     cause of order is the cause of liberty; tyrants and thieves
     alone thrive by confusion. The progress of popular power is
     founded on knowledge, and the best fruit of knowledge is
     peace. It is kings and autocrats whose trust is in the
     bayonet, and whose only faith is in the rifle and parks of
     artillery. Let the people show they are worthy to be free by
     practising the virtues of freemen--by a reliance on the
     power of reason, on the march of intelligence, on the force
     of public opinion, on the justice of their cause, and the
     certain triumph of truth and right, naked and unarmed,
     except in the panoply of virtue and the majestic spirit of
     humanity.

     "But the demonstration in London is not to be without its
     effect on the map of the world. It is the first check that
     the revolutionary ball has met with since it started in
     Paris, and ran like a meteoric storm over continental
     Europe. The British empire, at all events, is safe. Whatever
     is to be achieved for Liberty and Progress there, has got to
     be achieved, as such victories have been for two hundred
     years past, viz., by changing the law of the land through
     the constitutional action of the ballot box. It is very true
     that the British government, for the first time for many
     years, has manifested symptoms of alarm over a seditious
     meeting,--and there was reason for it, so sudden had been
     the revolutions in Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Milan, Venice,
     Munich, Wirtemberg, and indeed throughout nearly all the
     cities in continental Europe,--and it is very true, also,
     that London, in the excitement, lost her trade and forgot
     business for nearly a week, while the actual cost of the
     demonstration in behalf of law and order is estimated to be
     full half a million of dollars; but, as the London _Times_
     well says:--

     "'It is worth at least £1,000,000 in the additional value it
     will give to British securities now and for good all over
     the world.'

     "The British character, British reverence for law and order,
     British public opinion, now stand higher than ever. No
     spectacle can be more beautiful than that of 200,000 special
     constables qualifying from all classes of society, and
     taking oath to obey the officers of the law in preserving
     property and protecting the city. The Chartist multitude of
     some ten, or twenty, or it may be, fifty thousand--for
     authorities differ in their estimation of the number on
     Kennington Common,--naturally enough quailed before such a
     moral demonstration. Their courage all oozed out of their
     fingers' ends, and their leaders evaporated on the trial
     day, as well enough they might. The whole thing turned out a
     farce, or an abortion; and the 'six points' of the Charter,
     well enough in the main, now stand about as high, in London,
     under such auspices, as the 'five points' in New York.

     "Rejoicing, however, as we do in this suppression of a mob
     demonstration in our Fatherland, we do not shut our eyes to
     the fact that the British ministry must keep up with the
     spirit and the intelligence of the age, in all possible or
     rational meliorations of the aristocratic features of the
     British constitution. There is, however, the greatest pledge
     that this will be done in the very form itself of the
     constitution,--for there can be scarcely a doubt, we think,
     that there is now as near an approximation to universal
     suffrage in the House of Commons as in our own House of
     Representatives,--remembering, as we must, in the latter
     body, the _numbers_ and _colours_ of its differing
     constituency. The Senate of the United States is no more
     based upon 'equal representation,' as all know, than the
     House of Peers."

     "WALL STREET ON SATURDAY LAST.--If there are any among us
     who doubt the close union, social, intellectual, and
     commercial, which binds in sympathy our people with those of
     Great Britain,--if there are any who deemed Americans mere
     passive, disinterested spectators of the revolutionary
     crisis, which, previous accounts would have it, was to
     provoke a civil war in England, and to submerge all the then
     existing law and order there, beneath the turbulent
     whirlpool of mob violence--we wish they had been in Wall
     Street, or, indeed, in any of the other business
     thoroughfares in the lower part of the city, on Saturday
     last, about noon. We are perfectly sure that the result of
     the intended-to-be belligerent demonstration in the English
     metropolis, on the eventful 10th of April, was not more
     anxiously awaited in Liverpool, in Edinburgh, or Glasgow,
     than it was here in Transatlantic New York, albeit three
     thousand miles and more away from the theatre of action.
     Early in the morning, as soon as it was proclaimed on the
     newspaper bulletins that the steamer was telegraphed off
     Sandy Hook, men began to gather in knots at the corners of
     the streets, discussing the probable character of the news
     at hand,--and, for the time being, all business of
     importance was at a pause. Speculation in Ohio 6's,
     Pennsylvania 5's, Reading Bonds and railroad shares, was
     laid aside for speculation in an anticipated fresh batch of
     revolutions and dynasties overthrown. Cotton, flour, and
     grain were all forgotten, and the only article thought of in
     the provision line was a _Provisional Government_ in the
     realms of Queen Victoria. Hanover Street, at the corner of
     Wall,--that well-known rendezvous for street
     operations,--was in a state of terrible suspense; and even
     the stoic who superintends the dog-market in the
     neighbourhood of the Custom House, concluded to suspend all
     transactions in his quadrupedal profession, till the
     character of the news should be divulged. The excitement on
     all hands was intense; but the suspense was of short
     duration, for soon the booming of cannon across the bay
     announced that the New America had reached her wharf at
     Jersey City. An hardly had the echoes died in the distance,
     ere a 'Wilmer,' or one of the innumerable 'Extras' that now
     deluged the streets, was in the hands of every body who
     could read. By this time the various newspaper
     establishments were in a state of actual beleaguerment. Into
     some, the rush was so unceremonious and indiscriminate,
     that, as the speediest means to get rid of the crowd, an
     individual was delegated to ascend the desk and read aloud
     the details of the intelligence. Englishman, Irishman,
     German, and Frenchman, were among the eager listeners; and
     according as from the reader's lips would fall some sentence
     congenial to the feelings of one or the other, it amused us
     to hear the involuntary ejaculations of applause that would
     now and then break out. All, indeed, were patient
     listeners,--the American hardly less so than the European.
     And now that the Chartist bugbear had eventuated in a
     contemptible abortion, many were the congratulations
     exchanged--though some expressions of disappointed hope here
     and there met our ear. The internal peace of England had
     been undisturbed--the government had wisely allowed the
     'demonstration' to take place,--it had 'all ended in
     smoke,'--Parliament hadn't even been menaced with those
     awful pikes,--the vast financial and commercial concerns of
     the nation were not seriously affected,--in short, because
     every thing now gave good assurance that the mighty
     conflagration which has irresistibly swept over all
     continental Europe, consuming many a regal edifice in its
     march, has left unscathed the governmental fabric of
     Britain, and therefore preserved all the mighty interests
     which, falling with it in the general ruin, would have
     immersed half the world in bankruptcy and distress--people
     returned to their homes and to their places of business with
     better heart. The cloud of gloom that hung over the business
     world, the week past, in anticipation of sad tidings from
     abroad, at once evaporated, and in the twinkling of an eye,
     all was sunshine and hope again. SUCH WAS SATURDAY IN WALL
     STREET."

To the sentiments expressed in these passages every British heart must
respond; and we feel the more called upon to lay them before our
readers from having seen some absurd and foolish ravings reprinted in
this country as the verdict of the American Press upon the events
which have been and are passing around us.

We do not much wonder at such passages as we allude to being quoted
here, for, like many of those transatlantic extravagances which have
now attained the distinctive name of "Americanisms," they certainly
form rather amusing reading; but it requires only a very superficial
inspection of these tirades, to see that they no more reflect the real
tone of American opinions or American sympathies, than the harangues
of the United Irishmen or of Conciliation Hall represent the feelings,
judgments, or wishes of the Irish nation. Doubtless, among the less
intelligent classes of the community, and the "Suisses" of the Press,
on both sides of the Atlantic, there is abundance of rancour and bad
feeling, in some cases the offspring of mere ignorance, in others of
bad faith, disguised under the cloak of nationality and patriotism:
but among the educated and the thoughtful portion of the public, and
among the higher organs of periodical literature in both countries, a
very different spirit is evidently gaining ground. A feeling of mutual
respect, a spirit of cordiality is every day becoming more apparent,
as the conviction of the common interest of the two countries becomes
more palpable; and a union is gradually in the course of formation,
which the storms that are agitating the rest of Europe will only tend,
we trust, to cement and confirm. How, indeed, should it be otherwise?
How, at least, should it _long continue_ to be otherwise? For what
country but Great Britain has ever sent forth from its bosom such a
colony as now forms the United States of America? What colony could
ever look back upon a loftier lineage than America, when, comparing
her own wide and thriving domains with many of the sinking empires of
Europe, she remembers her British descent, and feels, in a thousand
traces of blood and thoughts and habits and morals, her connexion with
"the inviolate island of the sage and free."

INDEX TO VOL. LXIII.

  Abercrombie, general, 430.

  Aberdeen, kidnapping in, 612.

  Ackland, colonel, 335, 336,
    --his death, 339.

  Ackland, lady Harriet, 336, _et seq._

  Acre, defence of, by Sir Sidney Smith, 323.

  Aids to Reflection, criticism on the, 702.

  Agricultural produce, importation of, 11
    --classes, present state of, 655.

  Alaimo de Sentini, 592
    --defence of Messina by, 595
    --his death, 602.

  Alba, battle of, 450.

  Alexander, emperor of Russia, sketch of career of, 133, 135, _et seq._

  Alfred, improvement of the English law under, 463.

  Allen, Ethan, exploits of, 430.

  America, periodical literature of, 106
    --copyright in, 127
    --feeling in, towards England, 780.

  Angler's Companion, Stoddart's, review of, 673.

  Armstrong, Johnny, execution of, 305.

  Army, &c., Cobden on the, 261.

  Arnold, Benedict, exploits of, 332, 336, 430.

  Athole, earl of, murder of, 300.

  Atterbury, bishop, 471.

  Austria, the revolutionary movement in, 639, _et seq._ 650
    --its government of Lombardy and Venice, 736, 737
    --the war with Sardinia, 746.

  Autobiography of a German headsman, the, 148.

  Ballantyne's Hudson's Bay, review of, 369.

  Bank restriction act, passing of the, and its effects, 1
    --Peel's, 720.

  Baring, Mr, on the income-tax, 386.

  Barrow's life of Sir Sidney Smith, review of, 309.

  Beatification, the, 290.

  Benevento, battle of, 444.

  Blackwood and copyright in America, 127.

  Blairs and Drummonds, feud between, 306.

  Blanc, Louis, 399.

  Bolingbroke, lord, 472.

  Brazil, present state of, 236.

  Brest, exploit of Sir Sidney Smith at, 319.

  Brougham, lord, on the present state of France, 642.

  Budget the, 383.

  Buffalo-hunting, sketches of, 374.

  Buonaparte, Napoleon, at Toulon, 318
    --defeat of, at Acre, 323.

  Burgoyne, general, 331
    --history of his enterprise, 333.

  Buxton on the increase of the slave-trade, 7.

  Byng, admiral, 482.

  Bysset, Sir Walter, 300.

  Canada, my route into, part. I., 328
    --part II., 425.

  Cannibalism, prevalence of, among the American Indians, 375.

  Cara Vita, the, a scene at Rome, 287.

  Carleton, Sir Guy, 332.

  Carlos, Don, son of Philip II., 70.

  Catechism in the Minerva, a scene at Rome, 281.

  Catherine of Russia, 132, 133, 134.

  Caxtons, the, a family picture; chap. I. 513
      --chap. II., 514
      --chap. III., 516
      --chap. IV., 518
      --chap. V., 522
      --chap. VI., 523
      --chap. VII., 525
      --chap. VIII., 527
      --chap. IX., 531
      --chap. X., 537.
    --Book II., chap. I., 685
      --chap. II., My uncle Roland's discourse upon honour, 687
      --chap. III., 688
      --chap. IV., 691
      --chap. V., 694
      --chap. VI., 696
      --chap. VII., My Uncle Roland's tale, 697
      --chap. VIII., 700.

  Cervantes, Miguel, 72.

  Champlain, lake, 425.

  Charles of Anjou, conquest of Naples by, 436
    --revolt of Sicily from him, and his further history, 589
    --his death, 603.

  Charles Albert, King of Sardinia, 746, _et seq._

  Charles Edward, prince, notices of, 475, _et seq._

  Chartist movements in Great Britain, the, 650
    --feeling in America regarding, 780.

  Chartists, how to disarm the, 653.

  Clermont assizes, Flechier's chronicle of, 47.

  Cobden on the national defences, 261
    --movement of, for extended suffrage, 655.

  Coercion bill, the, and its necessity in Ireland, 3, 4
    --character of Sir George Grey's, 115.

  Coleridge, the philosophy of, 702.

  Commerce, present condition of, 10.

  Conciliation, effect of, toward Ireland 113.

  Conquest of Naples, the, 436.

  Conradin, sketch of the career of, 446, _et seq._

  Constance, Queen of Arragon, 600.

  Constantine, the grand-duke, 141.

  Constantinople, early attacks of the Russians on, 130.

  Corlaer, tradition regarding, 423.

  Country house, building, &c., of a, 28.

  Cree Indians, the, 376.

  Crémieux, M., 401.

  Crimes and remarkable trials in Scotland; incidents of the earlier
        reigns; an inquiry into the character of Macbeth, 293
    --kidnapping, Peter Williamson's case, 607.

  Criticism, characteristics requisite for, 107.

  Cromwell, advancement of the navy under, 309.

  Crown Point, fortress of, 431.

  Cuba, cost of producing sugar in, and its increased production, 229,
        231, 234.

  Currency system, change in the, by the bank restriction act, 1
    --effects of Peel's system, 7, 20, 661.

  Defences, the national, Cobden on, 261
    --a military discussion regarding, 362.

  Demerara, depreciation of property in, 231.

  Democratic Review, the, 106, 111.

  Direct taxation, evils of, 384.

  Don John of Austria, 70.

  Downie, captain, defeat and death of, 432.

  Drummonds and Blairs, feud between the, 306.

  Duncan, investigation into the alleged murder of, 294.

  Durie, Lord, abduction of, 609.

  Edinburgh after Flodden, 165.

  Education in Wales, 540.

  Edward the Confessor, improvement of the law under, 463.

  Elizabeth, progress of the British navy under, 309.

  Emancipation, increase of the slave-trade from, 220.

  Emigration, proposed government system of, 668
    --statistics of, 669.

  Employment, present want of, 655.

  England, American feeling toward, 780.

  Escovedo, secretary to Don John of Austria, 75
    --murder of, 77.

  Europe, the revolutions in, 638.

  Eusebius, letter to, on subjects for pictures, 176.

  Evenings at sea. No. III. The Surgeon, 33.

  Fall of the throne of the barricades, the, 393.

  Finances of Britain, the, 383.

  Finances of France, state of, since the Revolution, 404.

  Flechier's chronicle of Clermont assizes, 47.

  Fletcher of Salton, curious scheme of, 610.

  Flodden, Edinburgh after, 165.

  Forbes, the master of, conspiracy of, 303.

  France, the present revolution in, 395, 638
    --its symbols, 767.

  Frazer, general, death of, 335.

  Frederick the Hohenstauffe, notices of, 438, _et seq._

  Frederick III. of Sicily, 605.

  Frederick, fort, 431.

  Free-trade, results of Peel's system of, 8, 21, 662.

  French republic, sentiments and symbols of the, 767.

  Fur-trade, sketches of, 374.

  Gates, general, 329.

  George II., character of, 470, 483.

  German ditty, a, 419.

  German Headsman, autobiography of a, 148.

  Gioberti's work on Italy, influence, &c., of, 741, _et seq._

  Glammis, lady, execution of, 303.

  Glasgow, unemployed in, 655.

  Gordon, George Huntly, two sonnets by, 420.

  Green mountains, the, 431.

  Greenwich time, 354.

  Grey, Sir George, on the state of Ireland, 4
    --character of his coercion bill, 115.

  Griffiths, Mr, on education in Wales, 548.

  Guesses at Truth, review of, 701.

  Guiana, decline in produce of, 225.

  Gustavus of Sweden, sketch of the career of, 313.

  Hardwicke, lord, life and times of, 463.

  Harris's life of Lord Hardwicke, review of, 463.

  Havre, capture of Sir Sidney Smith at, 321.

  Headsman, autobiography of a, 148.

  Heigho! 572.

  Herqui, exploit of Sir Sidney Smith at, 320.

  Herring, archbishop of York, 477.

  Hood, lord, at Toulon, 318.

  How to disarm the Chartists, 653.

  How we got possession of the Tuileries, chap. I. Heads or Tails? 484
    --chap. II. The Ides of March, 489
    --chap. III. The Barricades, 493
    --chap. IV. The Tuileries, 497
    --chap. V. Two provisional governments, 502
    --chap. VI. A republican wedding, 506
    --chap. VII. Adieu, sweet France, 511.

  Howe, lord, death of, 430.

  Hudson's Bay, sketches of, 369.

  Huskisson, introduction of the reciprocity system by, 2.

  Inca and his Bride, the, a medley, chap. I. Astley's, 751.
    --chap. II. The Rubicon of Peru, 755.
    --chap. III. The Children of the Sun, 758.
    --chap. IV. The Hall of Fire, 762.
    --chap. V. The Cataract of the Rocks, 765.

  Income tax, imposition, evils, &c., of the, 384, 385.

  Infant schools, remarks on, 284.

  Intercepted letters, the, a tale of the bivouac, 340.

  Ireland, change in the system of government of, and its effects, 3
    --the famine in, and its effects, 19
    --and the ministerial measures, 113
    --exemption of, from the income tax, 389
    --sketch illustrating the results of repeal to it, 627.

  Iroquois, contests of, with the French, 426.

  Italy, present state and prospects of, 101
    --the revolutionary movement in, 638
    --the movement and war in, 733.

  Ivan, the first Czar of Russia, 131.

  Jamaica, decline in the produce of, from the effects of the
        emancipation act, 6, 225
    --depreciation of property in, 232, 233.

  James I. of Scotland, murder of, 303.

  Jerusalem, by W. Sinclair, 192.

  John of Austria, sketch of the life of, 70.

  Johnson, Mr, on education in Wales, 548, 550, 554.

  Kenneth III., tradition of the death of, 294.

  Kidnapping, sketch of the history of, in Britain, and especially
        in Aberdeen, 607.

  Koch, Ernest, the Silver Cross, a campaigning sketch by, 564.

  La Cara Vita, an Italian sketch, 287.

  Lamartine, the works of, 399.

  Laprairie, town of, 434.

  Last Walk, the, by B. Simmons, 629.

  Lauria, Ruggiero de, 598, 599.

  Law of England, sketch of the history of, 463.

  Lepanto, battle of, 71.

  Letter to Eusebius, a, on subjects for pictures, 176.

  Liberal Legislation, thirty years of, 1.

  Life and Times of Lord Hardwicke, 463.

  Life in the Far West, Part I. chap. I. 713
    --chap. II. 717.

  Longen, Mr, on Education in Wales, 546, 549, 551, 553, 555.

  Lombardy and the Italian war, 733.

  London, the Chartist movement in, 650.

  Louis Philippe, fall of, 395
    --his pusillanimity, 405, 406.

  Lucera, the town and Saracens of, 439, _et seq._

  Lunfanan, the death-scene of Macbeth, 297.

  Macbeth, inquiry into the character and crime of, 293.

  Macclesfield, the Earl of, trial of, 472.

  M'Crea, Miss, murder of, 331, 334.

  Macdonough, Commodore, 432.

  Magna Charta, promulgation of, 465.

  Mainfroy, prince of Tarento, 438, _et seq._
    --his death, 445.

  Man is a Featherless Biped, a tale, 631.

  Manchester, unemployed in, 655.

  Mansfield, Lord, character of Hardwicke by, 482.

  Manufactures, depressed condition of the, 10.

  Messina, city of, 590
    --its revolt against the French, 594, 595.

  Metternich, Prince, 137.

  Military discussion, a, touching our coast defences, 362.

  Mont Blanc, a sonnet, 420.

  Montgomery, General, death of, 332.

  Moscow, city of, 146.

  Murillo, account of the battle of Lepanto by, 73.

  My English Acquaintance, 194.

  My route into Canada,--Part I. 328
    --Part II. 425.

  Naples, conquest of, by Charles of Anjou, 436.

  National defences, Cobden on the, 261.

  Navigation laws, threatened repeal of the, 2, 3.

  Navy of England, attention paid to, by successive sovereigns, 309.

  Nicholas the emperor of Russia, 134, 142, _et seq._

  Night's peril, a, 83.

  Norman conquest, effect of, on the law of England, 464.

  Novgorod, foundation of kingdom of, 130.

  Now and Then, review of, 239.

  Ossian, supposed burial-place of, 299.

  Our West Indian colonies, 219.

  Palermo, city of, 590
    --its revolt against Charles of Anjou, 594.

  Paris, state of, as republican, 402, 573.

  Paul, the emperor of Russia, 133.

  Pedro of Arragon, conquest of Sicily by, 589.

  Peel, Sir Robert, results of his banking act, 7, 20
    --his administration toward Ireland, 114
    --imposition of the income tax by, 384.

  Peel Bog, the, 298.

  Perez, Antonio, 73, 77.

  Peril of a night, a, 83.

  Periodical Literature of America, the, 106.

  Peter the Great of Russia, 129, 132.

  Philip II. of Spain, notices of, 70, _et seq._

  Pictures, subjects for, a letter to Eusebius, 176.

  Piedmont, the war of, with Austria, 740, _et seq._

  Pius IX., the movement headed by, 101.

  Plattsburg, battle of, 432.

  Poetry: Edinburgh after Flodden, 165
    --Jerusalem, 192
    --A German ditty, 419
    --Two Sonnets by George Huntly Gordon, 420
    --Heigho! 572
    --The Last Walk, by B. Simmons, 629.

  Poland, the partitions of, 133.

  Political Economists, effects of the supremacy of, 663.

  Prussia, the revolutionary movement in, 638, _et seq._ 649.

  Radetsky, General, 747.

  Railways, general stoppage of works on, 9.

  Rebellion of 1745, the, 475.

  Reciprocity system, introduction of, by Huskisson, 2.

  Reform Bill, effects of the passing of, 4, 663.

  Reformation, influence of the, on English law, 465.

  Reidesel, the Baroness, 337, _et seq._

  Repealer's wish granted, the, an Irish tale, 627.

  Republican Paris, 573.

  Revenue, state of the, 383.

  Revolution in Europe, the, 638.

  Romanism in Rome: Catechism in the Minerva, 281
    --La Cara Vita, 287
    --the Beatification, 290.

  Ruric, kingdom of, bounded, 130.

  Russell, Lord John, financial statements, schemes, &c., of, 383.

  Russian empire, sketch of the recent history of the, 129.

  St Domingo, effects of slave emancipation on, 6.

  St Jean d'Acre, siege of, 323.

  St Louis, sketches of, 442.

  St Priest's history of the conquest of Naples, Part I., 436
    --Part II., 589.

  Saratoga, battle of, 330, 335.

  Sardinia, revolutionary movements in, 101.

  Savings' banks, the French, effects of the revolution on, 408.

  Saxon law, characteristics of, 463.

  Schools, state of, in Wales, 540.

  Schnitzler's secret history of Russia, review of, 129.

  Schuyler, General, 329.

  Scottish crimes and trials, remarkable: those of the earlier reigns, 293
    --Kidnapping, and the case of Williamson, 607.

  Shipping, British and Foreign, effect of the reciprocity system on, 2.

  Sentiments and symbols of the French republic, 767.

  Sicilian Vespers, the, 436, 493.

  Sicily, conquest of, by the Spaniards, 589.

  Simmons, B., the Last Walk by, 629.

  Sir Sidney Smith, 309.

  Silver Cross, the, a campaigning sketch, from the German of Ernest
        Koch: night-quarters, 564
    --In the mountains, 565
    --Hidden treasure, 567
    --The wine skin, 570
    --The hospital, _ib._

  Sinclair, William, Jerusalem, a poem by, 192.

  Slave-trade, abolition of, and the subsequent emancipation of the
        slaves, effects of, 5, 220, 235.

  Smith, Adam, on the Navigation Laws, 2.

  Smith, Sir Sidney, sketch of the life, &c., of, 309.

  Something like a country house, 28.

  Soto, Juan, 74.

  Spaniard in Sicily, the, 589.

  Stoddart and Angling, 673.

  Subjects for pictures, a letter to Eusebius, 176.

  Suffrage, movement for extending the, 655.

  Sugar, comparative cost of free and slave grown, 229.

  Sugar Act, the, and its effects, 221.

  Surgeon's tale, the, 33.

  Sweden, history of, under Gustavus, 313.

  Switzerland and Italy, 98.

  Symbols of the French republic, 767.

  Symons, Mr, on education in Wales, 547, 550.

  Tagliacozzo, battle of, 450.

  Tenant right in Ireland, question of, 119.

  Thirty years of liberal legislation, 1.

  Ticonderoga, fort, 428, 429.

  Timour, invasion of Russia by, 131.

  To ----, a sonnet, 420.

  Tocqueville on republicanism in France, 416.

  Toulon, services of Sir Sidney Smith at, 317.

  Toushi the Tartar, invasion of Russia by, 130.

  Travelling in Taffyland, 455.

  Tuileries, How we got possession of the, 484.

  Tuscany, the grand-duke of, 101.

  Two Sonnets, by George Huntly Gordon, 420.

  Unemployed, statistics connected with the, 655.

  United States, periodical literature of, 106
    --copyright in, 127
    --feeling in, towards England, 780.

  Valery, Erard, de, 450.

  Venice, the government of, by Austria, 742.

  Vices, the prevalent, in Wales, 556.

  Wales, travelling in, 455
    --education in, 540.

  Walpole, Sir Robert, 473, 475.

  Warren's Now and Then, review of, 239.

  Wellington, Lacretelle's character of, 144
    --on the national defences, 263, 268.

  West Indian colonies, the, 219
    --the policy toward, 5, 659.

  Whitehall, town of, 427.

  Williamson, Peter, sketch of the history of, 607.

  York factory, life at, 371, _et seq._

          _Printed by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh._