This may

"Coningsby” to Mr. Henry Hope, he the general began to unwind the chain, mentions that it was composed amid "the while we chuckled with delight. No glades and galleries of Deepdene,” where sooner was the chain unwound than the the party of Young England were ever bear clasped the general's portly form in warmly welcomed, and never was a spot his arms. In vain he struck him on the where the youthful imagination could find head with his stick. All his breath was a more genial home. It possessed all the crushed out of him. We all rushed to the charm that woodland and undulating rescue. Every one belabored the little ground and abundant flowers could bestow animal, and at last be left hold of the without; and within, every grace that the general, who sank panting to the ground. most cultivated taste and refinement could We could not seize the chain, and off went lavish upon it. An Italian style of build the bear, through the flower-beds, to the ing, which, if na: precisely adapted to the house, scattering a group of ladies who climate, harmonized with the landscape. were sitting on the terrace. The bear Happy days were passed there by the dashed through the hall door, dragging youthful party, who added, spite of the his chain after him, down the wide gallery, warning of Rasselas, to their present en- and straight into a china.closet, with glass joyment the fond hopes of the future. doors, which stood at the end of it. Then There were many visitors to Deepdene, came crash! crash !! crash!!! All the most of whom sympathized with the am. establishment rushed to the rescue, and at bitions and aspirations of youth. One last the bear was secured; but not until dear kind friend arrived there, with whom the closet had become the scene of dire a pleasant incident is associated. Gen. disaster. It may be supposed that after eral Sir Willoughby Cotton had returned this the bears were never tied to the trees, from an important Indian command. He but were kept in durance vile. was a very grand, dignified officer, warm. seem a somewhat unimportant incident to hearted, irascible, and was ready to resent record, but it was a very amusing scene. any slight absence of due consideration. How pleasant it was after the long weary So much so, that the first day after his hours of the House of Commons to find return, when the members of the Carlton ourselves in such a cheerful house, where pressed round to congratulate him on his host and hostess only cared for the happi. arrival, among them was Mr. Quintin ness of their guests! I remember Mr. Dick, who slapped the general on the Disraeli always posted down from Lonback, and said, “How are you, Wil- don. He considered there was no enjoyloughby?”

ment equal to travelling in a comfortable The general started, stared at him, and carriage with a pair of good posters, replied, “ Pretty well, Mr. Richard." How much was the charm of the travel

“ Richard ! why, you have forgotten, I enhanced, when it was to enjoy a period am Dick!”

of repose in a house which possessed what • Yes, sir; but although you are familiar a poet wrote every house should possess, enough to call me Willoughby, I am not the three L's — light, life, and love ! familiar enough to call you Dick!”

It was on such occasions that Mr. Dis. Mr. Henry Hope had been presented raeli would tell us the tale of his early life, with two little bears, which were during which really was the life of Vivian Grey. the day tied to separate trees by long The Quarterly Review said:chains. These bears were constant ob. jects of curiosity, and it was observed

No one can forget his first impressions on that the sure sign of their being out of reading " Vivian Grey,” and it may well be

understood that those who enjoyed the privtemper was when they licked their paws. ilege of listening to his tale of the dawn of One morning they were evidently in a that ambitious, grand, and crowded life, can very bad humor, and we were all looking never forget it. Like Napoleon, he achieved at them, when the general said, “ Not any eminence, not only without any extraneous of you young fellows dare to unchain one aid, but in spite of every disadvantage. He of the bears."

again, like Napoleon, had faith in himself. Why, you are a great officer and you It is easy to preach the doctrine of humility; won't do it," was the reply.

but more careers are sacrificed by men under“You mean I dare not ” said Sir Wil. rating than overrating themselves. He posloughby, very indignantly.

sessed the admirable quality of rising after

failure - defeat never crushed him. Like the “No!” we exclaimed. He took a short stick out of one of our

fabled oak, he was strengthened by every blow. hands, and went to the bear. The little It is well known that his failure on the brute licked his paws more and more as occasion of his first speech in the House


in no way daunted him, and yet the failure vaded the whole place; an extensive park would have broken most men. Henry invited to long strolls with our host, from Bulwer, afterwards Lord Dalling, told me whom we learnt much of interest connected that he drove with Disraeli from Gore with the topics of the day. At Bearwood House after this disappointment, and that there is a large sheet of water, which was he was in a most dejected state. Sheil the scene of a deeply affecting incident. said it was not a break down, it was a Mr. Walter's grandson was a most gracecrash down. A very short time elapsed ful thinker and writer. He had been on a before he addressed the House again, and voyage round the world, and rejoined his sat down amid cheers from all sides. It family two days before Christmas, and he was told of him — he never told it himself lost his life in a most noble effort to save - during his boyhood that he was asked the lives of others who had fallen in, and by Lord Melbourne: "Well, what do you were struggling amongst the broken ice. intend to be?” and his ready reply was, It was a noble self-sacrifice. But what “ Prime minister.". These parties at the was most remarkable, he had but recently Deepdene succeeded his marriage, when been translating some German poems, he returned from a long Continental tour, in which were lines of solemn beauty, during which he was received with dis. strangely prophetic — tinction in every court and every society.

When most the chill of death I dread, By every account, in Paris he was the observed of all, – the representatives of

Chill like the sharp and bitter cold,

Ere dawns in heaven the morning red. all parties and opinions paid homage to his intellect. He was on the most friendly No family in the country have ever been terms with the king, with whom he was more highly considered and more univer. frequently closeted. Lord Brougham, sally popular than Mr. Walter's. It was who was at Paris at the same time, found a sad blow when Mr. Walter, the friend of himself eclipsed, and saw Disraeli's suc. Young England, was unseated on petition. cess with ill-concealed annoyance.

The committee had sat for I think five or Another country house where Young six weeks. At that time election petitions England were received with open arms were tried by committees of the House ; was Mr. Walter's, at Bearwood. Mr. and so little confidence was there in the Walter possessed the majority of shares impartiality of our statesmen, that it was in the Times, and could therefore control customary to select an equal number from its politics. Most of the papers, even the each side and a chairman. It was felt opposition, were favorable to young men that, except in cases where difference of who at least possessed earnestness and opinions are quite impossible, the ultimate honorable ambition; but the Times and decision must rest with the chairman, who Morning Post took them under their spe. again rarely voted against his party; so, cial protection. The latter paper had not in general, when the chairman was known, at that date hoisted what the Times called the result of the petition was pretty cer. “the red flag of the Foreign Office on the tain. Mr. Walter's case was very remarkbare poles of Protection;” it was the rec- able; for after the many weary days, no ognized organ of the upper circles of soci- evidence of bribery and corruption 'worth ety, and was conducted with remarkable anything in the opinion of the committee ability by Mr. Borthwick, a prominent had been brought forward, and there was member of the Young England party. a general feeling that the petition would His son, Sir Algernon Borthwick, has not be declared “frivolous and vexatious.” only maintained the high reputation of the It was Mr. Walter's own counsel who journal, but, under his admirable manage subsequently, from not having attended ment, it is second to none in its widely throughout the proceedings, suggested the extended influence and its high standard weak points which the committee had of merit. Many pleasant reunions we had overlooked, and which afforded a justifi. in the sanctum of the Morning Post, when cation for half the committee to vote that the questions of the day were discussed, the “preamble was proved,” when the with frequently very impracticable results. chairman gave the casting vote, which At the Times office we were given a small confirmed this view, so Mr. Walter was room, where we had all the advantage of unseated. early information and competent advisers. Since the days of Coningsby there has It was, however, at Bearwood, Mr. Wal. not been so large a number of young men ter's country seat, that we enjoyed the returned to Parliament as there is in the benefit of his sagacity and wide experi- present, and in respect of age it might

A spirit of kindness and peace per. almost be called a Younger England.


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Those members of Young England who which we are familiar- or could speak have passed away, or the few survivors, with more authority of either the “danare many of them represented by the new dies” or the statesmen of time which, generation. These may now apply to though still so scarcely as yet themselves the eloquent conclusion of passed into the historic region — is so Coningsby: "

essentially changed.

Mr. Baillie Cochrane had one of those They stand on the threshold of public life. discursive minds and independent char. What will be their fate? Will they maintain acters which it is difficult to break into the in august assemblies and high places the great steady jog-trot of party work; but be was truths which they have embraced; or will their courage exhaust itself in the struggle, never a man to be overlooked, and his their generous impulses yield to the tawdry cultured intelligence and knowledge of temptations of a low ambition; or will they foreign life gave him considerable influ. remain brave and true, refuse to bow before ence in the discussions affecting European shadows and worship phrases; sensible of the evolutions, in which, frequently, he did greatness of their position, recognize the great, not take the popular side. Such a man ness of their duties, denounce to a perplexed always more or less a spectator, although and disheartened world the frigid theories of often a vigorous actor in public life — has a generalizing age? Will they believe in their frequently better opportunities of seeing own energies, and dare to be great?

the game than those who are completely Maga. I wish I had confidence enough involved in it, and his memory was richly to be able to say yes. But without being furnished with all the most important incia laudator temporis acti, I feel more pleas. dents and personages of the last half-cenure in your political recollections than a tury. It is always a drawback to such contemporary survey is calculated to af. reminiscences when written, that the auford. I hope you have still more reminis. thor is obliged perforce to leave out him. cences to relate of this period. I assure self—in this case a large and imposing you they have excited a remarkable inter figure, counting for a great deal in the est.

ever-shifting and brilliant crowd. A. When you next visit me after a Had there not been so many other scenes month or two, I shall be glad to allow you in which he was known and prominent, to make some more drafts on my memory. Lord Lamington's appearances in literaBut the clash of political warfare once ture would no doubt have attracted greater more resounds, and the memories of the notice. He was the author of a novel and past must give place for a time to the of some essays in poetry which secured actualities of the present.

considerable attention ; and we have ourselves had the advantage of a pumber of able historical and political sketches from his pen. Our readers will remember

among these the careful study of “ ElizaFrom Blackwood's Magazine. beth de Valois," as well as various slighter LORD LAMINGTON.

efforts. The interest and distinction of It is again our sad office to make such the last work from his pen—"In the Days hasty memorial as time permits of one of of the Dandies" - so full of intimate the old friends and valued contributors, knowledge of men and events, and re. whose faithful support, when once enlisted producing, with so much animation and in her band, has always been the pride of power, the atmosphere and peculiarities Maga. Lord Lamington, better remem of an epoch which is concluded, have bered as Mr. Baillie Cochrane - one of received universal acknowledgment; no the best-known figures in the brilliant and doubt ratifying to him – anonymous as picturesque party; the chivalrous young they were – in his last days; as well as enthusiasts who were known as “ Young very pleasing to ourselves, whose pages England” some fifty years ago — has at he had chosen as the medium of their the close of a long and honorable career publication. been taken away in the very act, so to

Another man of note and ripe expespeak, of making those graphic sketches rience has thus passed away from among of its earlier surroundings, the third of us, as the greater part of his generation which opens this number; and it is a has already passed away. The country is touching coincidence that it should appear poorer in the cessation on earth of every within the very covers which enclose these such manly voice and cultivated intelliour last words of recollection and farewell. gence; but the memory of her worthy Few living knew better the society so sons is in itself an inheritance which can. different in many respects from that with not pass away.

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From The National Review.


dead. What means this precious cater

wauliog? Are ye puffed up because his BY GIACOMO LEOPARDI.

Majesty the czar did come to look at Chorus of Mummies in the Laboratory to conform to nature's laws ? Sure, ’twas

you?* and think ye that ye are no longer of Frederick Ruysch.t

but a jest.

Nay, if you have really come O Death | alone immortal, unto whom to life again, I congratulate you from my Every created thing must come, in thee

heart; only, in that case, I must frankly Our disembodied natures now repose;

tell you we must part; for though I could Joyless, indeed, but, at the least, secure From all the woes of life. Profoundest night afford to keep you so long as you remained Obscures our torpid and bewildered sense;

dead, I am not rich enough to feed you as All hope and all desire in us are dead; live men; so you will have to pack. If, But so alike is every grief and fear;

indeed, there be such things as vampires, While the void æons, gliding slowly by, and if you be of that sort, you may e'en go Have neither tedium nor charm for us. and suck somebody else's blood, for, sure, We once did live; but now the memory I am not minded to let ye suck mine; Of life is paled within us, faint and blurred

though I was willing enough to fill your As a child's waking image of some dream,

veins with yonder artificial substitute you Or terrifying phantom of the night.

wot of.t In one word, then, if ye be conWhat were we — - what was that unjoyful state

tent to lie still and hold your peace, as Which, living, we called life — ay, what? It looms upon our apprehension now,

heretofore, we'll still be friends, and ye Like some dim problem of mysterious scope, shall lack for pothing reasonable in my Even as Death unto the living looms; poor house; if not, I tell you plain I'll And even as man's puny senses shrink take this door bolt, and pound you into From death while yet he lives, just even so worse than mummies. Our disembodied spirits now recoil

Mummy (speaks). Be not enraged. I From the bare thought of life's brief fevered vow to you we are all stone dead, without

your pounding us. Joyless, indeed, but now at last assured Joy is denied alike to quick and dead.

Ruysch. Well, then, explain this whim Ruysch (outside his laboratory, peering into song?

which even now possessed ye, to break out through the chinks of the door). Zounds!

Mummy. Even now, when midnight Who has taught music to these long.dead tolled, it marked the first of those grand mummies, that they carol thus in the mid- algebraic cycles whereof the ancients dle of the night, like so many cocks? By wrote ; when, for the first time since the my faith, I am e'en in a cold sweat, and universe began, 'tis given to the dead to am within an ace of being more dead than speak - and not to us alone, but to all the they are. I little thought I had preserved dead - to all, wherever they may lie; in them from corruption only that they might every tomb, deep in the bottom of the sea, thus revive, and chill my blood. For all beneath the snows of the pole, or the sands my vaunted philosophy, I quake from head of Sahara ; whether stretched beneath the to foot. Curse the foul fiend who ever open sky, or buried in the bosom of the tempted me to keep such horrors in my earth — all, all the dead this midnight house! In sooth, I know not what to do, chanted with us the hymn you heard but If I leave them shut up here, how know I but they may burst the door, or issue through the key-hole, and stalk to my bed will they continue thus to sing or speak?

Ruysch. Ay, truly! But, say, how long side. As for calling for help for fear of

Mummy. Their hymn is ended. Now dead corpses, I may not think of it. 'tis their privilege to speak for one sole Come, let me pluck up courage, and try if quarter of a mortal hour. Then must I can frighten them.

they return to silence, till the next of these (He enters the laboratory.)

vast cycles shall return. How now, my sons! what merry jest is

Ruysch. If this be so, I trow ye'll not this? Pray bear in mind that you are disturb my rest a second time; meanwhile, • This translation, by Major-General Maxwell, is

enjoy your short-lived chat, while I stand authorized by the Società Successori le Monnier of here aside and listen to you. Fain would Florence, publishers and sole proprietors of the original I hear your talk; I'll not disturb ye. edition of the works of Leopardi.


† Frederick Ruysch, celebrated professor of anatomy at Amsterdam in the seventeenth century; famous, The Ruysch mummies were visited by the czar, inter alia, for his collection of anatomical prepara- Peter the Great, and were eventually purchased by tions, comprising certain entire cadavers, preserved on a system of his own invention and commonly called † It was supposed that Ruysch preserved his cadavers Ruysch's mummies.

by the injection of certain liquids, invented by himself.



Mummy. 'Tis not permitted unto us to tion of the faculty of sense — which dulls, speak, save only in reply to queries from and lastly kills, the very power to feel a living man. The uninterrogated dead, how could this process of extinction be a when once he has sung yon hymn, is thing of pain? I say, again, when condumb.

sciousness itself is lulled in dissolution, Ruysch. I deeply grieve to hear it; for no bitterness can be. Why, look ye, even methinks it had been passing curious to they who die of painful maladies, when hear your colloquy, an ye had license for death draws nigh, are seen calm and quies. it.

cent, proving that in them the vital power, Mummy. Even had it been so, 'tis little vanishing at the touch of death, is no more you'd have gleaned; for, know, we have capable of pain; thus pain and fear them. nought to speak of.

selves are dead before death comes. Tell Ruysch. Ay, but a thousand questions this from us to all who think to suffer in crowd upon my brain concerning mysteries the hour of death. which I would learn of you. The time Ruysch. Such reasonings may suit the allotted you for speech is short; come tell cold materialist, but never those who hold

- tell me, in a word, what your sensa- far other doctrines of the nature of the tion was in the dread point of death. How soul, as I have ever done, and all the more felt you then ?

shall do, now that I have heard the dead Mummy. I had no feeling.

both speak and sing. For, inasmuch as The Other Mummies. Nor we.

death is the parting of the soul and body, Ruysch. How, mean ye to aver ye did we may not think that these two essences, not feel the awful change?

conjoined and welded into one, can e'er be Mfummy. Just as men fail to note the severed without some dread and unimagpoint when sleep begins.

inable shock. Ruysch. Ay, but then sleep's an ordi- Mummy. Say, then, are body and soul nary thing.

linked into one by any nerve or fibrous Mummy. And is not death so ? Show tissue which must be snapped when the us the man, the beast, the plant which soul takes its flight; or is the soul some doth not die !

actual portion of the body, which then is Ruysch. rry, now I marvel not to violently rent away? See you not that the hear you speak or sing, if ye perceived soul quits the body only because it may no not even when ye died

longer dwell there - its fleshly tenement

is wrecked — and not because of any Cosi colui, del colpo non accorto, Andava combattendo, ed era morto,

shock or violence, which tears it from its

seat? Here is no violence at all. And as the song says. And yet, methinks, as tell me - think you, that when it first finds touching this affair of death, the like of place within the body -- at the time men you must know more than is known to us call birth – think you the soul then feels who have not yet died. Come, now, be its entrance into life; or has perception plain ; felt ye nó anguish at the point of of its new attachment to the body? Think death?

you it notes the new-formed union ? Why, Mummy. I tell thee once again I was then, at death should it needs note the not conscious of it.

separation from its clay companion ? Nay, Ruysch. Yet, of a truth, the bitterness be well assured that even as the entrance of death, the anguish of its very sentiment, into life is gentle and unperceived, so will is held of all.

the parting be. Mummy. Death is no thing of sense or Ruysch. Then what is death, if it consentiment - nay, 'tis its very opposite; tain no pain ? where no feeling is, no bitterness can be. Mummy. 'Tis rather pleasure ; know

Ruysch. And yet all men, in every time that death, like slumber, comes not in an - ay, even the Epicurean sect — have instant, but by slow and imperceptible held that death, in its very essence, hath gradations. True, these gradations vary a bitter pang.

with the variety of the causes which occa. Mummy. The living think so, but they sion death ; but when it comes, death, like

Ask us, and we reply: If man can- its sister sleep,* brings nor pain nor pleasnot perceive the point at which his vital ure; but unconsciousness alone. Before force is but suspended for a time by sleep it comes, it steeps the senses in a lethargy or syncope, how should he note the point at which that force is quenched forever? the sister of death.

Respectful apologies to Homer for making sleep

See the celebrated episode of Nay, more ; how could a sense of aught Hera and Sleep, Iliad, xiv., 231, etc. be felt at death, which is itself the extinc- | 'Evo' "Ttivo fúußanto, kaOlyvntw Oavátolo, etc.



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