having the welfare of a nation at heart, are profoundly conversant with the spirit of the times; and to those who, rejecting all abstract theories, look upon society as it is in all its complicated relations, and who only ask by what means shall the community be advanced to the next stage of happiness and prosperity without endangering, meanwhile, its safety and peace? De la Rosa maintains that the security of government rests solely on the common interest of the rulers and the ruled. In this country, where there is theoretically no distinction between the governor and the governed, we should say on the general interest; and the only question which a good legislator will ask himself on any subject, whether it be of an organic change, a tariff, banking law, or aught else, is, what will promote the general good? And whatever tends to the general good will eventually be established. Demagogues may declaim as they please of liberty, and private rights, and exclusive privileges, and utter their abstract solemnitics with profound gravity; but it is in vain to resist necessity, or to fight with abstract and shadowy weapons against the demands of the times and the spirit of the age. serted to rouse the spirit of man and give an irresistible impulse to the revolution. But if we examine narrowly the course of most revolutions, we shall find that, while they seem to be the offspring of popular enthusiasm, they have their real origin in particular grievances and interests; and so far as they do not, when the excitement has subsided, there will be an inevitable recoil. If history teaches any lesson, it teaches us this, that any institution which is founded on common interest, or the interest of the great mass of the people, can never be effectually overthrown. It may seem to conflict with private rights; by a certain portion of the community it may be denounced as hostile to liberty; for the moment it may be prostrated; but it will rise again, and those who would blindly be governed by none but abstract notions must be responsible for all the mischief that comes meanwhile. It is easy to excite the public mind by abstract propositions, because they are easily understood, at least in their outward import; but to make the mass of mankind comprehend a measure which depends upon a great variety of the most complicated relations, is another and a very difficult task. But a These views, which in the last paragraph good statesman will only ask the question, we have expressed paraphrastically, we be- what is for the common good? and endealieve to be just; although we think that De vor to make men understand it.. He, on la Rosa has not qualified them sufficiently, the contrary, who in the present state of nor does he make due allowance for the ele-society, when one interest cannot be touched ments of intelligence and virtue as safeguards to society. We cannot begin by denying the existence of individual rights, although they must in the end be subordinated to the general good. In great emergencies, emergencies, however, which occur but seldom,-the right must be strongly as without affecting a thousand others, goes about inflaming the passions of the people and indoctrinating them with notions which neither he nor they can ever apply to the actual condition of society, works incredible mischief. THE RIVAL PAINTERS. FROM THE GERMAN Or all the days of the year, the superstition of the past has invested none with greater terrors than the first of November. The dead then rise at midnight from their tombs, and, wrapped in their long graveclothes, appear to remind the living of the prayers which they have forgotton for the deceased; the witches choose this fearful night for the exercise of their dreaded malice; the angel Gabriel then lifts for twelve hours his foot from the prostrate fiend, and suffers this dire foe of man to roam abroad and torment him. Usually, the dreariness of nature in that night lends double power to the terrors inspired by superstition; the storm rages in the air, the rain or snow falls thick and fast to the earth, the streams swell and overflow their banks, danger and even death threaten the traveller on every side. During the night of the first of November, of the year 16-, a poor family without a guide, led by chance alone, were wandering upon new and unknown paths. Halfblinded by the snow which the furious storm lashed in their faces, their feet swollen from toil, the unhappy creatures were scarcely able to hold themselves erect. They were soon compelled to halt, and to seek shelter against the violence of the tempest in a sunken road. The head of this family was a man of about thirty-five years of age; he was accompanied by a woman, who carried an infant in her arms; behind her walked a little boy from five to six years old, a feeble creature, half dead with cold and weariness. band reached to her; the father clasped the boy in his arms, and pressed him closely to his bosom. But of what avail were these feeble efforts, against the driving snow and furious wind? An icy chill had already pervaded their frames, and lulled them into that torpor which is an almost certain precursor of death. The man suddenly started up and grasped his wife by the hand. "Up! up, Margaret!" he cried. "If we remain here longer we are sure to perish, we and our children. We must leave this waste, we must toil onward, and try to reach the city. Take courage! your uncle Rembrandt will give us a kind welcome, as I hope." Margaret tried to rise; but her benumbed limbs refused to serve her, and, notwithstanding her husband's feeble efforts to support her, the unhappy woman sank upon the ground again; the infant, bruised by the fall, uttered piteous cries. 66 Margaret," cried the stranger, kneeling beside his wife, and wiping away the blood that flowed from the child's head-" Margaret, in God's name summon up all your powers! the lives of our children are at stake. If we do not leave this fatal spot, we shall all perish here." But Margaret did not hear him; she lay sunk in a deep swoon. "Listen, Antonio!" cried his father earnestly. "I will take your little sister in my arms, and hasten to the city, to seek for help. But I cannot let you go with me; you would impede my steps, and your mother's life depends upon my speed." He now took off his coat and wrapped it around the boy; then caught up the little girl and ran, half clad, along the road to Amsterdam, which, fortunately, was not so distant as he had feared. When he reached the gate, which he found guarded by a number of soldiers, he cried: "For the love of Heaven, comrades, show me the house of Master Rembrandt, the painter! I must speak with him at once!" When the soldiers beheld the half-clad, agitated man, who expressed himself with great difficulty, in a language that was foreign to him, they thought him intoxicated, and resolved to make themselves merry at his expense. "Master Rembrandt!" said one of the number; "he lives below yonder, not far from here, at the other end of the city; only you must turn off at once to the right." "No, no," cried another; "turn here to the left, and take that street yonder." "God help us!" said a third, laughing; "you must take the street to the right, and if it happens to be the right one, you will be sure to come out right." They accompanied their words with bursts of laughter, which filled the stranger's bosom with despair. At last, the latter ran towards a lantern, and held up before the soldiers the child which he carried in his arms, and which, owing to the darkness of the night, they had not observed. The soldiers now ceased their cruel sport, but they were unable to understand what he really wanted of them. Not one of them knew where the painter dwelt. Every moment lost, however, brought increasing danger to the wife and child of the Italian. He was upon the point of returning to die with them, when a little hump-backed tailor passed by the group with a lantern in his hand, for it was now dark nights, and the laws of the city forbade the burghers to go abroad after dusk without a light. The old man, attracted by the stranger's lamentations, stepped nearer, and felt compassion for his condition, for he recognized him by his accent for a fellow-countryman. "Come, come," he said to him, "I will lead you to Master Rembrandt; but I greatly doubt whether he will open his doors to you at this hour, and above all on All-hallow night. But no matter; come, come !" "And my wife and child?" cried the traveller; and he now described their pitiable condition to the compassionate old man, "If you have no hope of safety except that which you build upon Rembrandt's help, your destruction is certain," replied the tailor. "Master Rembrandt would not give a penny to save the life of his nearest neighbor! Beg rather two of these soldiers to go with you to that sunken road, and help us to bring your wife and child to my dwelling. Then, while I try to revive them, you can go to Master Rembrandt, for I am poor, and do not know in truth if my narrow chamber can accommodate a single guest, even for a single night. But be comforted; Heaven has thrown me in your way, and I will assist you to the utmost of my power." The tailor, whose name was Nicholas Barruello, now explained to the soldiers the service which humanity required of them. While the drummer took the infant in his arms, and bound up the wound upon its head as well as he was able, four men provided with torches followed the traveller, with the permission of the officers of the post. Upon the way they learned that the stranger was from Liege, that he was called Francesco Netcelli, and was by profession a painter. Following the stranger, who walked onward at a rapid pace, they at last reached the sunken road, and after brushing aside the snow, they found the two silent, motionless forms. Master Barruello now begged the soldiers to raise the unhappy creatures, and bear them to his dwelling. He himself set them a good example; he took the little boy in his arms, and with the lantern in his hand, walked on before the rest, towards his hut, which, fortunately, stood at no great distance from the city gate. On entering the little chamber, he laid the mother and the children upon his bed, dismissed the soldiers with kind thanks, and then employed every means in his power to revive the unhappy creatures, not one of whom showed signs of life. He begged Netcelli to assist him, but the latter, whether benumbed by the cold, or robbed of all his energy by despair, sat in gloomy silence near the fire, which the tailor had lighted upon the hearth, and seemed neither to hear nor see what was passing around him. Nicholas, therefore, was left to his sole exertions to recall the senseless sufferers to life again. Soon all his scanty wardrobe was exhausted in supplying them with warm, dry clothing, and in chafing their rigid limbs. All his efforts, however, appeared fruitless; he had not yet succeeded in restoring warmth even to the frame of the unhappy mother. He now stepped upon a stool, and took from the topmost shelf of a cupboard a carefully corked jug, which contained some excellent brandy, with which he was aceus tomed to regale himself on great occasions. | to your mother! Yes, signora, rejoice, and Without delay, yet not without a heavy cover him with kisses. What is that I hear? sigh, he moistened a piece of linen with the God and the Virgin be praised! it is the costly liquor, and then gently rubbed Mar- voice of the infant!" garet's face and hands therewith. Barruello's efforts seemed for a long while useless, and he already began to fear that his help had come too late, when the young woman suddenly unclosed her eyes, and stretching out her arms, stammered forth a few words in a low voice. She asked after her children. The kind tailor hurried from one child to the other, with unwearied care, completing the noble work which he had so well begun. Mingling a portion of brandy with hot water, he chafed the brows of the youngest with a corner of his thick woollen doublet, which he so thoroughly drenched with that cordial, "They are here, signora, they are here! that when his patients were all out of danCome, come, master Netcelli! rouse your-ger, the flask was completely empty. self and take courage; your wife is out of danger. Your children, also, will doubtless be restored to you again, if you will but give me a little assistance. Come, pledge me in a glass of this wondrous cordial! it has cured your wife, and it will cure you. To your health, and the health of our invalids!" With these words, Master Nicholas, whose ruddy face proclaimed his fondness for the beverage which he extolled so highly, drained his cup at a single draught, and poured the remaining drops into his hands, which he rubbed briskly together. Netcelli drank also; soon a genial warmth ran through his veins, and he shook off his deep depression. His eyes, which had thus far been directed steadfastly towards the flame upon the hearth, now glanced around the chamber; he recognized his children, he recognized his wife, and gushing tears relieved his oppressed bosom. "Margaret," he exclaimed, "do I really hold thee in my arms? dost thou smile upon me? dost thou speak to me? O God, I thank thee! We are all safe then, and the danger is over." After a few moments of true and untroubled joy at their fortunate and wonderful recovery, Barruello looked anxiously around him, with his small and twinkling eyes. He gazed at the bed, measured with a glance the apartment, the length of which was not more than eight feet, and contracted his brows. Netcelli soon remarked his perplexity, and said : "What is it disturbs you, my noble benefactor?" "To own the truth," said the tailor, with a slight cough, "I was just asking myself, how we could contrive to pass the night here? Five persons in a chamber like this, and but one bed for so many people! Besides, I have laid my last piece of wood upon the fire, and the lively little rogue yonder is already asking for something more to eat. But my whole store of provisions consisted of the piece of bread that he has just devoured." "True; I must repair to our uncle Rembrandt's," said Netcelli," to see him, to relate to him our sad fate, and implore his assistance." แ The tailor shook his head. "Yes, that is a means," he said, "that might relieve us from our embarrassment, but I count but little upon it. Well, it matters not! we have no choice. I will light my lantern, and lead you to the Jew's Suddenly he paused, for his glance rested upon the two children, who still lay rigid and motionless, perhaps in the torpor of death. The young mother divined Francesco's thought, and replied to it with a sad sigh. The tailor rebuked them gently, say-quarter, for there dwells Master Rembrandt, ing: "To doubt of Heaven's goodness is to render ourselves unworthy of it." He then added, turning to Netcelli, "The Holy Virgin and the saints have restored to you your wife; they will restore your children also. Instead of lamenting, aid me to recall these dear creatures to life. Look! the oldest is coming to himself already; kiss me, my little angel! Come, I will take you the painter or the usurer, whichever you please to call him, for he plies both trades. May God soften his heart, that he may open his door to you!" II. When Francesco Netcelli, accompanied by Nicholas Barruello, stepped from the tailor's smoky chamber, deep stillness had long since succeeded to the fury of the tem- "I told you so," muttered the tailor; "he pest, and the moon shone bright in the hea- will not open his doors to you. Come, let vens. The snow had covered the earth as us return to my dwelling. It is even betwith a shoud. In this deceitful light, objects ter to pass an uncomfortable night in my around assumed a thousand doubtful shapes. chamber than here before this gate, exposed The aspect of the silent city, veiled in white, to the cold, piercing air, and so near a filled them with a singular fear, which nei-churchyard. To-night is the night of the ther the old handicraftsman nor his compan- dead, and it seems to me, every moment, ion could entirely shake off. Without imparting their superstitious fears to each other, they drew nearer together, and in this way walked through several lonely streets, in which the sound of their steps, stifled by the snow, gave back no answering echo. After walking onward, for somewhat less than half an hour, they came to the quarter of the city occupied by the Jews, and commonly termed the Jews' quarter, which lay | near a deserted churchyard. Master Barruello pointed with his finger to a large house, flanked by two turrets, in front of which lay a vast court, surronnded by a thick and lofty wall. The stranger approached, and beheld before him a small low door, strongly studded with iron, in the middle of which a brass knob was visible. He drew upon this knob, and soon heard the shrill tones of a bell, intermingled with the barking of several dogs. Netcelli waited for a while, listening for some sound which might promise him admittance; but no one came, no one answered his summons. He drew the bell again; then a third time; but these repeated signals had no other effect than to redouble the fury of the dogs, which leaped in their kennels and shook their chains with violence. At Netcelli's fourth ring, the dogs were suddenly silent; he heard a door opened, then heavy steps descend a staircase and cross the court. In a few moments the short, dry cough of an old man was mingled with the rattling of chains. Several minutes passed, and still no one in the house seemed to trouble themselves about those who desired entrance. After waiting long in vain, Netcelli rang the bell once more, and now with a violence which betokened anger and disappointment, rather than the hope of speedy admission. He now understood the meaning of what had passed in the court; the dogs, barking furiously, rushed toward the gate, which, massive as it was, seemed an insufficient barrier against their violence. as if I saw a spectre ascend from the graves yonder. If you only knew all the frightful stories they tell of this place! In truth, Master Rembrandt is to be excused for keeping his house well locked and bolted; although it is a large and handsome dwelling, yet it has remained for more than twenty years without a purchaser, all were so afraid of the neighborhood of the churchyard. The old usurer cared but little for that, and bought it for a mere trifle. To spare à thousand florins, he would take up his lodgings at the gates of hell. Let us leave this place and return to my house. Heaven only grant that we reach it safe and sound!" As he spoke, the tailor drew Netcelli onward with him, quickening his pace and not venturing to look around, for the noise of the snow, crackling beneath their feet, together with the howling of the wind, which had now risen again, sounded in his ear like the laments of a tortured spirit following their steps. Pale as ashes, his forehead bathed in a cold sweat, harassed by feelings which he was unable to comprehend, the Italian yielded to the terror which, like the whips of furies, drove him and his companion forward. The most fearful forebodings disturbed his bosom; he felt a presentiment that some new misfortune was hovering over him, and with a hand trembling with terror, he at last grasped the latch of the tailor's door. He listened before entering. "Mother! mother!" cried little Antonio. His mother did not answer. Netcelli rushed into the apartment. Not a spark of fire was to be found upon the hearth, the lamp had gone out, the cold wind found a free passage into the wretched chamber through the broken window. Francesco groped his way towards the bed, placed his hand upon it, and it encountered a cold and rigid body; it was the face of the wounded infant, which Margaret held tightly clasped in her arms. With considerable difficulty Master Nicholas found steel and tinder and struck a light. |