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ation extends itself, but not the suffrage-retrenchment of ribs or of patience giving way. In fact, you are is a word actually lost out of the mouths of reformers. daily being driven more and more into a corner that The aristocratic phalanx of placemen sit in all the bloom won't be able to hold you and your wants. Decide then, of unshorn patronage, pensions, salaries, and power, will you emigrate ? There are vast continents, Ameriand the people pay nine-tenths of the taxation and can and Australian yet, with huge and unoccupied starve. Look, fellow countrymen, across the channel, deserts, and there millions of you will no doubt go. But and let that national pride which has often led you into again, ye that had rather stay at home, decide, for you bloody contests with your Gallic neighbours at least in - may ere long have no home.' I tell you the ground is spire you with shame at the glory which they have won fast narrowing under your feet. The Norman is in the from you in the contest for political liberty.
land, and is every day extending his encroachments over What are the facts that are continually meeting our the easy, sleepy, creeping, credulous, and ass-between eyes in reading the details of this revolution?—The noble two-bundles Saxon. The Norman when he came into and christian Lamartine stilling the tempest of the this country, conquered it. He parcelled it out, and multitude at the moment that he refuses to sanction that which he could not occupy with his own castles and “its usurpation of the rights of thirty five millions"
hunting grounds, he gave to his followers, the butchers, to sanction any government that is not the choice of all and cooks, and blacksmiths who followed him in his adFrance.
venture, and here gave themselves out as somebodies. The Provisional Government decrees that the linen, What they could not occupy with their castles and clothes, etc. of the poor pawned for less than ten francs hunting grounds, they suffered the sleepy-headed and shall be given to them, and that the nation shall pay doltish Saxons to cultivate for them, and what there the cost.
were not sleepy-headed and doltish Saxons enow to till The Tuileries shall be the asylum of invalid work. they put into parchment possession, under the name of men.
wastes, chaces, commons, and the like. By this means National workshops are open for those who are they have contrived from that day to this to monopolize without work.
all the land of all England. All the estates of any conAt Lisle the Prefect had announced a ball on the night sequence in England are in the possession of thirty-two I of the 24th, but the crowd under the windows shouted thousand of these Normans, or men who have contrived “We do not dance upon the dead!"
to get into Norman shoes. Now, as there are in the On taking the Tuiseries the people found a magnifi. United Kingdom upwards of seventy-seven millions of cent image of Christ in sculpture. The people stopped acres of land, and only twenty-eight millions of inhaband saluted it. “My friends,” cried a pupil of the itants, there would be, if the whole were equally divided, Ecole Polytechnique, “This is the Master of us all!” nearly three acres for every man, woman, and child of The people took the Christ, and bore it solemnly to the us, or reckoning, as is usually reckoned, four to a family, church of St. Roch. “Citizens! Off with your hats. nearly twelve acres of land to every British family. That! Salute Christ ! ” said the people, and everybody inclined were a pretty little patrimony, independent of all other in a religious sentiment.
pursuits of trade, or merchandise, or literature. That Who can wonder at what such a people has accom- is the natural patrimony of each of us-for spite of all plished. Well may the Democratie Pacifique, exclaim, artificial and usurping Normanic claims set up, every
Noble people, who respect all that is sacred. Noble man, woman, and child, who is sent into this world for people, who bless the being who proclaimed the law of their specified term of trial, has an equal right to be universal fraternity.”
supported by this globe on which he is located-supLook on that picture and on this. A great people ported by it in his stomach as he is on his feet. But winning in two days the charter of their liberties from out of this natural patrimony we are ousted by Normans, the hands of false rulers; in the midst of slaughter and longswords, lawyers, pikes, parchments, pettyfoggers, excitement acting out the poetry of religion; another crowns, coronets, canons, cannons, colonels, captains, people once great, grovelling in misery and debt at the corporals, pensioners, policement, priests, proctors, feet of the feeblest government which ever plundered constables, and catchpoles, and all the sublime rabble of and disgraced these realms. A nation must be lost in-government and misgovernment that has grown upon us deed which does not profit by the mighty lessons which through seven centuries, as fast and thick as peat grows have just been read to the world.
in an Irish bog. We are ousted, my good fellow Saxons and sleepyheads, and the whole of this rich possession has fallen into about thirty-two thousand hands, each
averaging about two thousand four hundred acres in his PACTS FROM THE FIELDS.-THE DEPOPULATING possession, and some of them some hundreds of thousands. POLICY.
Things, faith! are a little disjointed-a little dispro
portioned. It is an ugly hump-backed body this British BY WILLIAM Howitt.
body politic. EXTENSION OF THE ENGLISH MANUFACTURING SYSTEM,
Rut no matter! We plodding, trading, sleepy-headed BY WHICH MEN ARE WORKED UP INTO MALEFACTORS. Saxons, don't mind that. We don't care who has the
land so that we have the water. Let us alone with our No. I.
ships and our foreign customers, and we shall do. But The MELDRUM FAMILY,
then the Normans would not let us alone even there!
We had a pretty set of customers abroad, and nothing Good fellows of the working, and no few of you of would do but that our stupid clodpoles, and vagabonds, the middle classes, be looking out for a land of promise. and drunkards, must be drilled into destructible machines Be prepared with a retreat for the future. The ground, and sent out to kill our customers, and play the very as you must by this time perceive, is fast narrowing under devil amongst those who should have been buying our your feet. A thousand a day are added to your number, cloths and calicoes, our knives and forks instead of and so short are you of elbow room, that I see many of muskets and bayonets, and buttons instead of builets. It you already have rubbed one another out at the elbows. was a fine game for the Norman--but a dreadful scrape But stomach room, you may say, is plentiful enough for the Saxon blockhead. We got the shot to pay, and The vacuum there does not get so rapidly filled. But the foreigners when they came to their senses got the this is a room that makes all other rooms doubly uneasy. trade. We ran into everybody's quarrels, and took to If you are pressed so much from without, and have no everybody's debts, and have got them, and much good considerable proppage within, there will be great danger may they do us! What good that is, let Manchester,
and Glasgow, and Paisley, Nottingham and Leeds, and this that England, the wealthy and the fruitful, the inall the manufacturing districts tell; and let all the comparable and the envied of all nations is come! Is merchants who have failed, or have stood with a good this the end and the only gain of all our toilings and shaking, let the shopkeeper and everybody tell. We moilings, our tradings and inventions, our parliaments and want everybody's custom, as we were formerly, like colleges, our hosts of learned and illustrious men, our the Irishman, anybody's customers, and nobody wants victories and our vauntings ? That the poor for whom our goods.
God builds worlds, and for whom Christ died, should That is rather an awkward situation to be in! What be ejected to make room for great lonely halls that shall we do with the thousands and the millions that are rarely see their owners, for game, keepers, squires and starving for want of something to do, or for want of
grasshoppers. profit in what they do do? “Ship them off!” says the clever Norman. “Clear the country of them---they are
Mr. Prior in his life of Goldsmith doubts the very cir too many."
Well, but there is another class that the cumstance of the razing of Auburn. Men do not lay Normans find too many. They have driven the trading waste pretty hamlets, and destroy substantial villages, millions out of nearly all their foreign resorts of trade, he says. Mr. Chadwick could tell him a different tale ; we and they are just as busy driving the stupid, sleepy clod could tell him a different tale; thousands and tens of thou
sands could tell him a different tale. poles off their lands. The manufacturers say, our trade
The story of Auis ruined—we cannot maintain our swarming population burn is acted over again on the affluent plains of England in the towns; pass an act by which a man may get a every day and in every corner of it. Mr. Chadwick went settlement anywhere.” It is passed : any man who has down into the country to trace the effect of the last law resided any where for five years, there is his parish. of settlement—and he found that labourers were in But the clever Norman is too wide awake to be thus numbers of places obliged to walk from seven to ten checkmated by the stupid, sleepy, easy, and lumpish They had been ordered out of the agricultural parishes
miles and more daily to their work, and back again, Saxon. He cries, “Up and off with you every clodpole where they worked, and their cottages had been desof you. Up with cled pole wife and clodpole children, troyed. They, therefore, had to take up their abode in and find a dwelling where you can, for on my land you the towns, and occupy houses in unhealthy, close shall find no abiding place, shall gain no settlement!” And so the war of extermination began, and so it is situations, at double and treble the rental of their forgoing on daily over all that was once merry, but is mer rural ones, where they often had had a garden and now miserable, England. Down go the cottages of the could raise a pig. He found that the constitutions of labourers, even of those who are necessary to till the many of them were gradually sinking under this exland, and away they must march to any parish or any There are plenty of places to be named, where one
cessive exertion, and this injurious change of abode. town that has so many small proprietors that they can not agree to exclude the poor from their borders. Down parish consisting of small proprietors pays twenty shilgoes the old thatched cottage, and the little fence that lings per acre to the poor rates, while the next, the prohemmed in its rustic garden for ages. It would break perty of some great man, does not pay one shilling, for the heart of a lover of the poetic and picturesque to see he has carefully shoved out all the labourers, to settle the venerable old porch and its clustering roses come to amongst, and become chargeable to his poorer neigh
bours. the ground in blinding dust; and the row of bee-hives borne off and sold, and the bench on which they stood,
There is no similar example of intense selfishness on and the honeysuckle bower under which they stood rent the broad face of the earth. The lordly aristocrat who away and turned out of pieces of rural poetry in a twink- does it, has in nine cases out of ten gathered his wealth ling of an eye into lumber and rubbish. But there are together by the worst of treasons to his country-by other hearts, tender poetic ones it were enough to craze peculation under the guise of government, by fomenting to see the old roof ripped off-that ancient load of bloodshed, and by pandering to royal licentiousness. thatch on which the houseleek has grown and in which He and his family have fattened on the salaries of all the sparrow and the wren have built for scores and species of sinecure offices. His sons and his brothers scores of years. To see the little windows in which are in command in arıny, in navy, in colony, and many a sweet face has been seen tending some sweet church. He reaps all the rental of miles of England's flower, rose, or lily, or geranium, and from which aged richest lands. He suns himself on its warmest slopes in countenances have looked forth, and in the glory of the proudest architectural state, he walks beneath the shade scenes around, in hours ofodorous summer, have seen an of woods which were meant by God for the haunt of image of that heaven after which their weary and bereft the thousand hearts that need the refreshment of nahearts have yearned.
ture after the wear of social life, but which are shut Little abodes of humanity however lowly; little cab- against all but prowling keepers and four-footed things. ins of life and love, and a thousand bitter and sweet ex. Yet from this scene of beauty and abundance, he drives periences ; little homes of men and women however the few wretched tillers of the soil, and walks and works simple, who stood their day of trial, and wept their por- them to death. May God grant him a better treatment tion of tears, and sent forth their sons to the field of toil on the poor man's estate in Paradise ! or of blood, and their daughters to farm and town in Some time ago I came, on the Scottish borders, upon servitude—all doing their share to carry on what loftier an old herdsman asleep on the sunny ground. He awoke if not wiser men deem the duties of existence, and the up as I stopped, and I entered into conversation with maintenance of the health, wealth, and honour of this him. I praised the fine and cultivated country. “Yes," country, -simple and beautiful cottages of England, said he, “it is a fine country, but it wants no inhabitwell might it melt the sternest heart to see you fall-and ants. When these green and huge fields were open, ere ye fall, the desolate family tear itself away from when it was called a waste, it had its villages, and the you-from the accustomed sod-seat in the open air, poor man kept his cow, and the shepherd and the herds. from the sweetbriar hedge, the wallflower bɔrder, the man, or herdswoman, had each their own charge. But rosemary bush, and the little stream that runs murmur. now the villages are gone; the poor men's cows are ing by clear as crystal, and taking the dusty road gone. The poor men are gone-fifty families went last plunge into the fætid alley of the distant town.
week to America, and were I not so old I would have Merciful heaven! what a country is that which smiles gone too. As it is, I must range while I can over four like a paradise, and is fertile as the very garden of God, huge farms to herd cattle and count the sheep; and and which yet casts out all its inhabitants, but the soli- every day the land wants fewer hands, for the duke neitary lordling and his liveried crew of menials. Is it to ther plants a tree nor makes a road, which might em
ploy a poor man. In faith, the country is a fine coun- the ashes of this great innovator. The body of Voltaire, try, but it wants no inhabitants.”
who died at Paris in 1778, had been transported secretly The other day I rode across a fine tract of coun- during the night by his nephew to the church of the try, which was familiar to me years ago. How abbey of Sellieres in Champagne. When the nation beautiful did those old remembered scenes appear! How sold this abbey, the towns of Troyes and Romilly dissweetly did that little river wind along! How delightful puted the glory of possessing and honouring the remains were those airy hills and dark hanging woods! How of the man of the age. The city of Paris, where he rich and flowery were those fields and odorous hedges! had rendered up his last sigh, claimed its right as a But how strangely solitary! How those old villages capital, and addressed a petition to the National Assemwere thinned out! Those cottages in their little way- bly, to demand that the body of Voltaire should be given side gardens, under high old bushes and overhanging up to them, and be deposited in the Pantheon, the catrees where were they ?-Gone! all gone! Instead of thedral of philosophy. The assembly adopted this idea the little garden crammed thick with cabbages, beans, with transport. peas, and potatoes,—there were blank white places On 11th June, the department and the municipal where the grass had refused, as it were, in righteous body went in procession to the barrier of Charenton to scorn, to grow over the lime and the rubble of the de- receive the body of Voltaire. It was deposited on the molished tenements. As I went on I beheld an enormous site of the Bastille, like a conqueror reposing on his rural palace building. It was for the rector, the near trophies. The bier of the exile was raised within sight relative of the lord! The living was rich, the tithes of the crowd. A pedestal was formed for him of stones, were enormous ! But to whom could this fat parson torn out of the foundation of this fortress of ancient preach? He preached to nobody; he delegated that task tyranny. Thus Voltaire dead, triumphed over the stones to a journeyman soul-saver, at a pound a week. which had imprisoned him when in life. On one of From so magnificent a mansion, how could he descend these stones was read these words :-“ Receive in this to the humble church and bid a few pursy farmers place, where despotism enchained thee, the honours which and leather-leggin keepers, and sleek silk-stocking va- thy country ordains thee.” lets-repent ? How could he bid the rustic labourers The following day, in a splendid sunshine which had
repent, return, and live ?" No, that was contrary to dissipated the clouds of a rainy night, an innumerable the depopulating policy--they must march off and half crowd arrived to accompany the car which was to carry living, die by inches.
the body to the Pantheon. This car was drawn by I passed the parish church. Beautiful old fabric of twelve white horses four abreast; the reins of these old Norman days! What a porch was that! Why there horses, their manes decorated with gold and flowers, were roses running and flowering to its very pinnacle! were lield by men dressed in an antique costume, such Vhat a little Eden was that churchyard ! surrounded by as are seen on triumphal medals. This car bore a its lofty trees, and its old ivied wall; and with rose funeral couch on which was seen extended and crowned bushes and graceful laurels flourishing amid its superb an image of the philosopher. The National Assembly, turf, and antique tombs. But the gates of this Eden the deputies, the magistrates, the constitutional bodies, were closed—like that of old. The stranger that would and the army surrounded, preceded or followed the read its epitaphs and enjoy its cool solitude,
sarcophagus. The Boulevards, the streets, the public
squares, the windows, the roofs of houses, the very Must fetch the sexton and his keys, branches of the trees swarmed with people. The dull Endure his talk and pay his fees.
murmurs of vanquished intolerance could not compre
hend this enthusiasm. All eyes followed the car. The The poor man that would visit his wife's grave must do new belief felt that this was her victory, and that philoit on Sunday at service time.
sophy remained mistress of the field of battle. I went on; and everywhere were beauty and silence. The order of this pageant was majestic, and spite of Here and there might be seen a farm-house; but rarely all its profane and theatrical pomp, an inward joy of a cottage. The old stone-breaker on the road, in an intellectual triumph might be read on many counteswer to my enquiries, replied with a shake of the head-nances. Numerous detachments of cavalry opened "Queer times, Sir. His lordship pulls down all the the procession, as though henceforth arms even were to cottages and never builds any. If you want to know enter the service of intelligence. Then came drummers where the labourers live, it is at R there, wearing crape, and beating a funeral march, accompapointing towards the manufacturing town, a few miles nied by the firing of cannon, which rolled behind. Next farther.
the students of the Paris colleges, the patriotic societies, Such are the grand processes of our modern, phi- the battalions of the National Guard, printers and losophy, Christianity, and wisdom. Let us trace their workmen employed in the destruction of the Bastille, effects in THE HISTORY OF THE MELDRUM FAMILY.
the former carrying with them a travelling printingpress which printed on its way hymns in honour of Vol. taire; the latter bearing chains, iron-collars, bolts, and
cannon balls found in the dungeons and arsenals of the SCENES AND CHARACTERS FROM THE FRENCH state-prisons. Then busts of Voltaire, Mirabeau, and
Rousseau appeared. Upon a platform was exhibited the REVOLUTION.
verbal-process of the electors of '89, that Hegira of the
insurrection ; upon another the citizens of the Faubourg Translated for “ Howitt's Journal,"
St. Antoine exhibited also a model of the Bastille, the
flag from the donjon, and a young girl, dressed en amaTrou LAMARTINE'S “HISTOIRE DES GIRONDINS.”
zone, who had fought at the siege of that terrible prison.
Pikes, surmounted with the Phrygian cap of liberty, rose (Continued from p. 151.)
here and there above the heads of the multitude
which followed. A paper on one of these pikes bore the THE REMOVAL OF VOLTAIRE'S REMAINS TO THE
following inscription, “ Liberty was born of this
steel.” It was at the same epoch (the Bordeaux election) All the actors, and actresses of the Paris theatres that the National Assembly ordered the removal of Vol- followed the statue of him, who, during sixty years had iltaire's remains to the Pantheon. It was philosophy inspired them. The titles of his principal works were,
avenging herself on the anathemas which had pursued engraved on a pyramid which represented his immortal
ity. His statue made of gold, crowned with laurel, was incontestibly the most powerful writer of modern Eu, borne by citizens clothed in the costumes of the people rope. None other, through the sole force of genius and and the ages whose manners he had painted. A small of will, ever caused so great a revolution in mind. coffer, also of gold contained the seventy volumes of his His pen aroused a whole world, and shook to its works. The members of the different learned societies foundations more than the empire of Charlemagne, and of the principal academies throughout the king the European empire of a theocracy. His genius dom surrounded this ark of philosophy.
was not so much strength as light. God had not so Numerous bands of musicians, some accompanying much destined him to consume with fire as to enlighten. the procession, others stationed along its route, saluted Wherever he entered, there he bore the light of day the passage of the car with exciting symphonies and with him. filled the air with an harmonious enthusiasm. The Voltaire was born a plebeian in an obscure street of cortège paused before the principal theatres; hymns old Paris. Whilst Louis XIV. and Bossuet reigned in were chanted in honour of his genius, and the multi- the pomp of absolute power and Catholicism at Ver. tude again pursued its march. Having in this manner sailles, the child of the people, the Moses of disbelief reached the quay which bears the name of Voltaire, the grew up, close in their neighbourhood, unknown. The car paused before the house of M. de Villette, where throne and the altar had attained in France their apoVoltaire had died, and where his heart was preserved. gee. The Duke of Orleans as Regent governed in an inGreen trees, garlands of foliage and crowns of roses terregnum. decorated the front of this house. Upon it might be The most perfect laxity of morals succeeded to the read this celebrated inscription, -" His spirit is every- last years of monkish austerity of Louis XIV.'s reign. where and his heart is here." Young girls, clothed in Voltaire, as precocious in his audacity as in his genius, white and crowned with flowers, covered the steps of already began to play with those weapons of thought, of an amphitheatre erected before the house. Madame de which later he made so terrible a use. The disbelief of Villette, to whom Voltaire had been a second father, in this period arose out of debauchery, instead of out of all the splendour of her beauty and the emotion of her enquiry: Independence of thought was more a freedom tears, advanced from amid them, and placed on the of morals than a conclusion of the intellect. There was brow of the great man, the most beautiful of all his moral vice in this irreligion. Voltaire's mission was crowns,
the filial crown. Some stanzas of the poet Ché- commenced by the ridicule and the defiling of holy nier, one of the men who cherished most, and preserved things, which even in their destruction should be altill his death-the worship of Voltaire, burst forth at this ways treated with respect. Thus originated that levity, moment, clothed in the religious tones of music. Madame irony, and too often that cynical spirit in the heart and de Villette and the young girls descended from the am on the lips of the Apostle of Reason. His journey to phitheatre into the street strewn with flowers, and England gave assurance and gravity to his disbelief. He walked before the car. The Théâtre Francais which had in France known only free thinkers, in London he was then in the Faubourg St. Germaine, had converted its became acquainted with philosophers. He was enthuperistyle into a triumphal arch. On each column was siastic, with the enthusiasm of discovery about this encrusted a medallion containing in letters of bronze eternal reason. In a nature as active as is the French, the titles of Voltaire's dramas. On the pedestal of his this enthusiasm and this hatred would not remain statue erected at the door of the theatre was written, merely speculative as in a northern intellect. Scarcely —“ He wrote Irène at eighty-three, at seventeen Ædipe!" himself convinced, he wished to convince in his turn.
This immense procession of posthumous glory did not His whole life became one act multiplied in a thousand reach the Pantheon till ten at night. The day had not ways, yet tending to one sole aim ;-the abolition of been long enough for this triumph. Voltaire's bier was theocracy and the establishment of tolerance and liberty placed at the Pantheon between the remains of Descar- in all modes of worship. He laboured at this work with tes and Mirabeau, the predestined place of this inter- all the gifts God had endowed him with, as well as with mediate genius, between philosophy and politics, be- falsehood, cunning, slander and bitterness, and immotween thought and action.
rality of spirit; he employed all his weapons, even those This apotheosis of modern philosophy, in the midst of which are interdicted by the respect of God and man; the great events which agitated the public mind, shews us his virtue, his honour, his glory, were sacrificed to the clearly that the Revolution understood itself, and that it overthrowing of the old system. wished to be the inauguration of the two great princi From the day when he had resolved upon this war ples represented by this bier : intelligence and liber- against priestcrast, he sought out allies for himself. His ty! It was intelligence who entered triumphant over alliance with the King of Prussia had no other cause. the ruins of birth into the capital of Louis XIV. It was He needed thrones to uphold his cause against the philosophy who took possession of the city and of the priestly body. Frederick, who believed in the same phi. temple of Sainte-Geneviève.
losophy, only carrying it still farther, even to Atheism Voltaire, this sceptical genius of modern France, uni- and contempt of man, was the Dyonisius of this modern ted in himself the double passion of the people of that Plato. Voltaire redoubled his audacity under the proepoch; the passion of destruction and the thirst for in- tection of this sceptre. He affected, or perhaps really novation; the hatred of prejudice and the love of en- felt, a reverence for the absolute power of kings. He lightenment. This genius, not the most exalted, but the even went so far as to worship their very weaknesses ; most vast in France, has, as yet, alone been judged by he excused the infamous vices of Frederick, bowed behis idolaters or his enemies. Impiety has deified his fore the mistresses of Louis XIV. Like the Theban vices; superstition anathematized his very virtues; and courtesan who built a pyramid from the fruits of her despotism, when it aguin seized upon France, felt that debauchery, Voltaire never blushed at any prostitution Voltaire must be dethroned before tyranny could be re- of his genius, provided the wages of his compliance installed. Napoleon during fifteen years kept writers served to purchase enemies to priestcraft. He enrolled and journals in his pay to degrade, defile, and deny the these by thousands throughout Europe, and especially in genius of Voltaire. He hated the name of Voltaire with France. Kings still remembered the middle ages and the hatred of physical force for the force of mind. The thrones outraged by the Popes. They could not see the church, once re-established, could no longer permit his clergy, whose power was as great as their own over the name to shine forth with resplendent glory: the church people, without a secret hatred. Parliaments, the civil had a right to hate the genius of Voltaire, but not to clergy, bodies formidable to sovereigns themselves, dedeny it.
tested the clergy even whilst protecting their decrees. If men are to be judged by their works, Voltaire is The warlike, corrupt, and ignorant nobility were, as a
body, inclined wholly to embrace disbelief, as relieving cantile world, he, together with thousands of others, them from moral restraint. Such were the elements of found himself on the brink of ruin. this revolution in religion. Voltaire, with the glance of A time of dreadful anxiety succeeded: sleepless nights passion which is even still more far-seeing than the and days of uncertainty and apprehension. In a few glance of genius, comprehended the full spirit of his age. weeks the worst, as they believed, was known, immense He would not have succeeded in making his age an age loss must be sustained, but still there was a chance of of reflection, but he could make it smile. He never at- something being saved. Mrs. Mowatt who was extremely tacked in the front, never undisguised, fearing to draw attached to their residence, where the brightest and hapupon himself the rigour of the laws. The modern piest portion of her life had been spent, was willing to Æsop, he attacked under feigned names the tyranny he make any present sacrifice for the hope of returning in wished to destroy. He concealed his hate in the drama, better days to this favourite place. light poetry, romance, history, and in his very witti Misfortunes, however, never come alone; and now, cisms. His genius shewed itself in perpetual allusions as if to prove the truth of the adage, scarcely had they comprehended by his age, but giving no warrant for at- summoned a cheerful courage to look the future in the tack to his enemies. This combat of one man against face, when a new sorrow, and one more appalling than the priesthood, of an individual against an institution, all the rest, befel them. The affection of the eyes, which of one life against eighteen centuries, was not, however, had first made its appearance in Germany, again sewithout a certain courage.
verely attacked Mr. Mowatt. It was impossible for him Voltaire did not suffer martyrdom in his person but now to re-commence his professional duties; his sufferhe did in his name.
He sacrificed it both during his ings were of the most excruciating character, and for a life and after his death; he condemned his own ashes to long period from this time, he was unable to fix his eyes be scattered to the winds, and to not even find the asy- upon a book for above five minutes together. lum of a tomb. He endured long exile, in order to Here, indeed, was deep cause of anxiety and distress. procure the liberty of combatting. At eighty years of age, It was a dark and a melancholy season; yet still out of infirm, and feeling himself about to die, he made hasty darkness comes light, and now the young wife, not yet preparations for one more struggle and then expired far twenty, determined to use some of those splendid gifts from the abode of his old age. The inexhaustible vigour which God had given her to retrieve their shipwrecked of his mind never failed him for a moment. His gaiety fortunes, and to lighten, if possible, the load of misforrose almost into genius, and beneath this pleasantry of tune which pressed so heavily on her husband. Hitherto his whole life you yet feel a serious power of persever- her talents had been employed only to embellish life; ance and deep conviction. The brightness and vivacity now they must be used to produce the very means of of his wit, however, frequently concealed the profundity life; hitherto she had unconsciously been exercising of his design. This devotion of his, is his virtue in the and perfecting her powers amid the joy of youth and eyes of posterity. Yet he was not truth, only the pre- the ease of affluence, now their nobler uses must be cursor of truth. One thing was wanting in him: the tried amid the trials of adversity. God truly gives us love of God. He perceived God through his intellects no powers in vain! and he abhorred the phantoms which eyes of darknes, Some time before these domestic events occurred, Mr. had mistaken for Him and adored in His stead. He Vandenhoff had been giving dramatic readings in varirent in anger the clouds which hindered the Divine Idea ous cities of the Union, which had been extremely sucfrom shining in its full glory upon men, but his worship cessful; Mrs. Mowatt had herself attended those which consisted rather in the hatred of error than in faith in he had given in New York. We know already that she the Divinity. The religious sentiment, that sublimest of excelled in reading aloud, and in private she had been all thoughts, that sentiment which enkindled by enthu-accustomed to read and recite for the amusement of her siasm ascends to God, as a fiame uniting itself with Him friends, and sometimes in large assemblies. Her first in the unity of the Creator with His creations, this idea therefore was to give publicly a course of readings sentiment was not cherished in Voltaire's soul. And of this class, the taste for them being very great in from this want sprang the evil results of his philosophy. America. It neither created morality, worship, nor charity; it only She had, however, one difficulty to overcome in the decomposed and destroyed. Cold negation, mocking very outset, and this was to induce her husband to enter and corrosive it acted as a poison, it froze, it killed; it into her plans, for without his full consent she could do did not vivify. It created sceptics instead of believers. nothing. At length this being obtained, she opened her The religious reaction was speedy and universal. This views to a young sister, Mary, who had resided with was to be expected. Impiety may cleanse the soul of her since her marriage, but so entirely did this sister, superstitious errors, but it does not fill the heart of man. who was of a gentle and shrinking nature, disapprove, Irreligion is never destined to destroy a religion upon so violent was her grief and so earnest her efforts to disthe earth. A new faith is needed to supersede an old suade, that Mrs. Mowatt determined thenceforth to take faith. It is only a more enlightened religion which can counsel of no one, lest thereby her own resolution triumph over a deposed and corrupt one. The earth might be shaken. Silently and sedulously she set about can never remain without an altar.
preparing herself for the undertaking, and with the
She careblessing of Heaven she hoped for success. (To be continued.)
fully, therefore, made her selections of poetry from Scott, Byron, Milton, etc, to all of which she wrote appropriate introductions, making at the same time such
other preparation as she considered needful. Her resoMEMOIR OF ANNA CORA MOWATT.
lution and courage never failed her as long as she BY MARY HOWITT.
worked in secret; but so much had she been affected by
her much loved sister's grief, that even when all her (Continued from p. 149.)
preparations were finished, and she ready to commence,
she thought it best not to consult with her family--her PARTLY in consequence of Mr. Mowatt's residence in father's disapprobation especially she could not brave. Europe, and partly from an affection of the eyes, For reasons which every reader will perfectly apprehe gave up his profession of barrister, and was sub-ciate, she felt that she could not commence this new and sequently induced to embark to a large extent in com- public life in New York, where she had been known mercial speculations, when unfortunately one of those under circumstances so totally different: ske, therefore, terrible crises occurring which convulse the whole mer- selected Boston, the most intellectual city of the Union,