with France, whose Government has no con- | Italian independence, were playing the game of ceivable interest in refraining from Russian dis- Russia. Still, no protest was made, by resolution memberment, but our quasi-alliance with Aus- or vote, against this monstrous perversion of the tria. We are told that it was to our good un-national enthusiasm. The session was allowed derstanding with that Power we owed the ability to close without Mr. Cobden or his friends reto go to the Crimea at all. We are certain that cording their belief that a huge imposition was it was her interest alone we consulted in going being practised on a generous people. The re there. Active cooperation with Omer Pasha cess, crowded as it was with agitating events, would have annihilated the Russian army of the-brought forth no collective expression of the South, and probably have recovered for Turkey discontent known everywhere to prevail. No the Bessarabian fortresses. The transport of attempt was made to unite the advocates and the our forces across the Euxine shifted the seat of opponents of the war in a common effort for its war to Asia-leaving European interests to be right direction. Another session has even been promoted, if at all, by the unhappy Baltic ex-allowed to commence, with an Austrian treaty pedition, and by Vienna conferences. By pre-lying on the table,-and as yet Liberalism gives ferring the safety of Turkey to the interests of no sign of better resolutions. Seeing that the Europe at large-that is, preferring the Aberdeen men to whom we allude hold the balance of idea of the war to the popular idea-and by power in their hands,-that their votes, lent to limiting the means of Turkey's safety by con- the Opposition for a single night, might produce siderations of Austrian convenience we lost a revolution in our foreign policy, we must reeight precious months of our first campaign, ex-luctantly visit them, too, with the "blame" of posed our forces to decimation by cholera, and this hitherto unhappy war. were driven to undertake an inexpedient enterprise at a most perilous season. These are disasters so little compensated by the boasted achievements of having rendered Turkey a great moral service (in idly parading our troops before her brave population,) and humbling Russia by blockade and battle (the blockade imperfect, and the battle barren of all but glory)-disasters been abundantly warned and in those warnso fraught with sorrow to British households, and so discouraging to the hopes of sympathizing nations, that we must surely lay heavy "blame" upon the policy-the policy of indecision and of narrowness-in which they originated.

But how long time must elapse,-what other events must evolve, ere the people themselves are to be blamed? We believe that the burden of responsibility is rapidly descending upon them. That they have been deluded, does not now exempt them from disaster, nor will it long shield them from condemnation. They have ings they now begin to see a prophetic foresight. Kossuth, as the representative of three nations, addressed himself to their sympathies, to their hopes, and to their fears; and every pale-faced, deep-eyed, bearded son of Italy and Germany But this blame must be shared by those who seen in our streets, enforced the appeal with the acquiesced in, if they did not encourage, the dumb eloquence of visible suffering and aspira Ministerial policy-alien as it was from théir tion. We summarized, six months ago, in this sympathies and desires. We allude now to that Magazine, the Magyar statesman's reasonings section of the House of Commons which, parti- and predictions. We are consoled, in part, for cipating in the wishes of the nation, were con- the sorrows of our country over her useless satent, with occasional murmurings, or the as-crifices, by the recollection that we endeavored sumption of irresponsibility, to continue their to enforce and diffuse the counsels that would support of the Government. Early in the last have averted at least these sorrows. He has session, Mr. Cobden said, "I shall deal with reason to be proud, even in the dejection of this war question as with a bill in committee, public and private adversity, that events have against whose second reading I voted: I hold proved him not the fool or egotist which myself free to modify it as I can." We could leading journals,-professedly Democratic even, desire nothing better, knowing that Mr. Cob--wrote him down. He offered us, as he had den was the representative of the West Riding a right to offer,-instant, fervent, and intrepid and the friend of Kossuth. We looked to him, auxiliaries. He urged us to do justice, if only with Lord Dudley Stuart, Sir Joshua Walmsley, for the sake of utility. We scoffed-by the Mr. W. J. Fox, and other like-minded Members mouth of journalists with hundreds of thousands of the House of Commons, to secure from of readers-at the offer. We preferred, by the Ministers, privately or publicly, an assurance hand of our Government, to accept an unrighteous that the war should not be conducted so as to friendship. The year has nearly run out-our discourage those hopes of the resuscitation hated but accepted friend, after serving Russian of Continental liberty which hung, like an atmo- purposes to our severe cost, still delays to render sphere of benediction, about our flag. It was the service for which we have paid in advance, soon evident-evident no less from the strate--paid with the loss of honor and of blood. gical direction of affairs than from the persistent The spring of 1855 may find the war comefforts of our Government to secure Austria-menced with a noble, disinterested generosity by that no such assurance had been obtained, or the English people, and made memorable, in its was being acted upon. There were even distinct opening scenes, by the unsurpassed valor of intimations that the issues of the war were not English soldiers, carried on with the aid of merto include territorial derangement, and that the cenary aliens, in company with decrepid Austria, claimants of Polish restoration, of Hungarian or and in the face of revolted Europe. Such "the war," whose then will be "the blame ?"

From the Quarterly Review.

is gay and brilliant, but a nice old gloomy waxwork, full of murderers; and as a chief

Pictures of Life and Character. By John attraction, the dead baby and the Princess

Leech. London. 1854.

Charlotte lying in state.

Our story-books had no pictures in them WE, who can recall the consulship of Plan- for the most part. Frank (dear old Frank!) cus, and quite respectable old-fogeyfied times, had none; nor the Parent's Assistant; nor remember amongst other amusements which the Evenings at Home; nor our copy of tho we had as children the pictures at which we Ami des Enfans: there were a few just at the were permitted to look. There was Boydell's end of the Spelling Book; besides the allegory Shakspeare, black and ghastly gallery of at the beginning, of Education leading up murky Opies, glum Northcotes, straddling Youth to the temple of Industry, where Dr. Fuselis! there were Lear, Oberon, Hamlet, Dilworth and Professor Walkinghame stood with starting muscles, rolling eyeballs, and with crowns of laurel: there were, we say, long pointing quivering fingers; there was just a few pictures at the end of the Spelling little Prince Arthur (Northcote) crying, in Book, little oval grey woodcuts of Bewick's, white satin, and bidding good Hubert not put mostly of the Wolf and the Lamb, the Dog out his eyes; there was Hubert crying; there and the Shadow, and Brown, Jones, and Rowas little Rutland being run through the poor binson with long ringlets and little tights; but little body by bloody Clifford; there was Car- for pictures, so to speak, what had we? The dinal Beaufort (Reynolds) gnashing his teeth, rough old woodblocks in the old harlequinand grinning and howling demoniacally on backed fairy-books had served hundreds of his deathbed (a picture frightful to the present years; before our Plancus, in the time of day); there was Lady Hamilton (Romney) Priscus Plancus-in Queen Anne's time, who waving a torch, and dancing before a black knows? We were flogged at school; we background, a melancholy museum indeed. were fifty boys in our boarding-house, and had Smirke's delightful Seven Ages only fitfully to wash in a leaden trough, under a cistern, relieved its general gloom. We did not like with lumps of fat yellow soap floating about to inspect it unless the elders we present, and in the ice and water. Are our sons ever plenty of lights and company were in the

room.

flogged? Have they not dressing-rooms, hairoil, hip-baths, and Baden towels? And what picture-books the young villains have! What have these children done that they should be so much happier than we were?

Cheerful relatives used to treat us to Miss Linwood's. Let the children of the present generation thank their stars that tragedy is put out of their way. Miss Linwood's was We had the Arabian Nights and Walter worsted work. Your grandmother or grand- Scott, to be sure. Smirke's illustrations to aunts took you there, and said the pictures the former are very fine. We did not know were admirable. You saw the Woodman' in how good they were then; but we doubt worsted, with his axe and dog, trampling whether we did not prefer the little old Mithrough the snow; the snow bitter cold to niature Library Nights with frontispieces by look at, the woodman's pipe wonderful; a Uwins; for these books the pictures don't gloomy piece, that made you shudder. There count. Every boy of imagination does his were large dingy pictures of woollen martyrs, own pictures to Scott and the Arabian Nights and scowling warriors with limbs strongly best. knitted; there was especially, at the end of a Of funny pictures there were none espeblack passage, a den of lions, that would cially intended for us children. There was frighten any boy not born in Africa, or Rowlandson's Dr. Syntax: Doctor Syntax, Exeter Change, and accustomed to them. in a fuzz-wig, on a horse with legs like sauAnother exhibition used to be West's Gal-sages, riding races, making love, frolicking lery, where the pleasing figures of Lazarus in with rosy exuberant damsels. Those pictures his grave-clothes, and Death on the pale horse, were very funny, and that aquatinting and used to impress children. The tombs of the gaycolored plates very pleasant to witness; Westminster Abbey, the vaults at St. Paul's, but if we could not read the poem in those the men in armor at the Tower, frowning days, could we digest it in this? Neverferociously out of their helmets, and wielding theless, apart from the text which we could their dreadful swords; that superhuman Queen not master, we remember Dr. Syntax pleasElizabeth at the end of the room, a livid sove-antly, like those cheerful painted hieroglyreign with glass eyes, a ruff, and a dirty phics in the Nineveh Court at Sydenham. satin petticoat, riding a horse covered with What matter for the arrow-head, illegible stuff? steel; who does not remember these sights in give us the placid grinning kings, twanging London in the consulship of Planeus? and the waxwork in Fleet Street, not like that of Madame Tussaud's, whose chamber of death

their jolly bows over their rident horses, wounding those good-humored enemies, who tumble gayly off the towers, or drown, smiling

in the dimpling waters, amidst the anerithmon gelasma of the fish.

In the above-named consulate, when we had grandfathers alive, there would be in the old After Doctor Syntax, the apparition of Co-gentleman's library in the country two or three rinthian Tom, Jerry Hawthorne, and the fa- old mottled portfolios, or great swollen scrapcetious Bob Logic must be recorded-a wond- books of blue paper, full of the comic prints rous history indeed theirs was! When the of grandpapa's time, ere Plancus ever had the future student of our manners comes to look fasces borne before him. These prints were over the pictures and the writing of these signed Gillray, Bunbury, Rowlandson, Woodqueer volumes, what will he think of our so- ward, and some actually George Cruikshank ciety, customs, and language in the consulship-for George is a veteran now, and he took of Pancus? We have still in our mind's eye the cetching needle in hand as a child. He some of the pictures of that sportive gallery: caricatured Boney,' borrowing not a little the white coat, Prussian-blue pantaloons, Hes- from Gillray in his first puerile efforts. He sian boots, and hooked nose of Corinthian drew Louis XVIII. trying on Boney's boots. Tom; Jerry's green cut-away and leather Before the century was actually in its teens gaiters; Bob Logic's green spectacles, and we believe that George Cruikshank was amushigh-waisted surtout. Corinthian,' it appears, ing the public. was the phrase applied to men of fashion and In those great colored prints in our grandton in Plancus's time: they were the brilliant father's portfolios in the library, and in some predecessors of the swell' of the present pe- other apartments of the house, where the caririod-brilliant, but somewhat barbarous, it catures used to be pasted in those days, we must be confessed. The Corinthians were in found things quite beyond our comprehension. the habit of drinking a great deal too much Boney was represented as a fierce dwarf, with in Tom Cribb's parlor: they used to go and goggle eyes, a huge laced hat, and tricolored see life' in the giushops; of nights, walking plume, a crooked sabre, reeking with blood; home (as well as they could,) they used to a little demon revelling in lust, murder, masknock down Charleys,' poor harmless old sacre. John Bull was shown kicking him a watchmen with lanterns, guardians of the good deal: indeed he was prodigiously kicked streets of Rome, Planco Consule. They per- all through that series of pictures; by Sidney petrated a vast deal of boxing; they put on Smith and our brave allies the gallant Turks; the mufflers' in Jackson's rooms; they sport- by the excellent and patriotic Spaniards; by ed their prads' in the Ring in the Park; they the amiable and indignant Russians, - all naattended cock-fights, and were enlightened tions had boots at the service of poor Master patrons of dogs and destroyers of rats. Be- Boney. How Pitt used to defy him! How sides these sports, the délassemens of gentlemen good old George, king of Brobdignag, laughed mixing with the people, our patricians, of at Gulliver-Boney, sailing about in his tank to course, occasionally enjoyed the society of make sport for their majesties! This little fiend, their own class. What a wonderful picture this beggar's brat, cowardly, murderous, and that used to be of Corinthian Tom dancing atheistic as he was (we remember in those old with Corinthian Kate at Almack's! What a portfolios, pictures representing Boney and prodigious dress Kate wore! With what his family in rags, gnawing raw bones in a graceful abandon the pair flung their arms Corsican hut; Boney murdering the sick at about as they swept through the mazy quad- Jaffa; Boney with a hookah and a large turrille, with all the noblemen standing round in ban, having adopted the Turkish religion, etc.) their stars and uniforms! You may still, this Corsican monster, nevertheless, had doubtless, see the pictures at the British Mu- some devoted friends in England, according to seum, or find the volumes in the corner of the Gillray Chronicle, -a set of villians who some old country-house library. You are led loved atheism, tyranny, plunder, and wickedto suppose that the English aristocracy of ness, in general, like their French friend. In 1820 did dance and caper in that way, and the pictures, these men were all represented box and drink at Tom Cribb's, and knock as dwarfs, like their ally. The miscreants got down watchmen; and the children of to-day, into power at one time; and, if we remember turning to their elders, may say, Grand- right, were called the Broad-backed Adminis mainma, did you wear such a dress as that tration. One, with shaggy eyebrows and a when you danced at Almack's? There was bristly beard, the hirsute ringleader of the ras very little of it, grandmamma. Did grand-cals, was, it appears, called Charles James Fox; papa kill many watchmen when he was a young another miscreant, with a blotched counte man, and frequent thieves, gin-shops, cock-nance, was a certain Sheridan; other imps fights, and the ring before you married him? were hight Erskine, Norfolk (Jockey of), MoDid he use to talk the extraordinary slang and ira, Henry Petty. As in our childish innojargon which is printed in this book? He is cence we used to look at these demons, now very much changed. He seems a gentlemanly sprawling and tipsy in their cups; now scaling old boy enough now.' heaven, from which the angelic Pitt hurled

them down; now cursing the light (their atro-mor," the delightful Phrenology and scrapcious ringleader Fox was represented with books, of the good time, our time- Plancus's hairy cloven feet, and a tail and horns); now in fact !- the collectors of the Georgian etchkissing Boney's boot, but inevitably discom- ings, we say, have at least a hundred pictures fited by Pitt and the other good angels, we of the artist. Why, we remember him in his hated these vicious wretches, as good children favorite Hessian boots in "Tom and Jerry' should; we were on the side of Virtue, and itself; and in woodcuts as far back as the Pitt and Grandpapa. But if our sisters wanted Queen's trial. He has rather deserted satire to look at the portfolios, the good old grand- and comedy of late years, having turned his father used to hesitate. There were some attention to the serious, and warlike, and subprints among them very odd indeed; some lime. Having confessed our age and prejuthat girls could not understand; some that dices, we prefer the comic and fanciful to the boys, indeed, had best not see. We swiftly historic, romantic, and at present didactic turn over those prohibited pages. How many George. May respect, and length of days, and of them were in the wild, coarse, reckless, comfortable repose attend the brave, honest, ribald, generous book of old English humor! kindly, pure-minded artist, humorist, moralist! How savage the satire was how fierce the It was he first who brought English pictorial assault-what garbage hurled at opponents-humor and children acquainted. Our young what foul blows were hit- what language of people and their fathers and mothers owe him Billingsgate flung! Fancy a party in a coun- many a pleasant hour and harmless laugh. Is try house now looking over Woodward's face- there no way in which the country could actia or some of the Gillray comicalities, or the knowledge the long services and brave career slatternly Saturnalia of Rowlandson! Whilst of such a friend and benefactor? we live we must laugh, and have folks to make Since George's time humor has been conus laugh. We cannot afford to lose Satyr verted. Comus and his wicked satyrs and with his pipe and dances and gambols. But leering fauns have disappeared, and fled into we have washed, combed, clothed, and taught the lowest haunts; and Comus's lady (if she the rogue good manners; or rather, let us say had a taste for humor, which may be doubted) he has learned them himself; for he is of na- might take up our funny picture-books without ture soft and kindly, and he has put aside his the slightest precautionary squeamishness. mad pranks and tipsy habits; and, frolick- What can be purer than the charming fancies some always, has become gentle and harmless, of Richard Doyle? In all Mr. Punch's huge smitten into shame by the pure presence of our galleries can't we walk as safely as through women and the sweet confiding smiles of our Miss Pinkerton's school-rooms? And as we children. Among the veterans, the old picto- look at Mr. Punch's pictures, at the Illustrated rial satirists, we have mentioned the famous News pictures, at all the pictures in the bookname of one humorous designer who is still shop windows at this Christmas season, as alive and at work. Did we not sec, by his own oldsters, we feel a certain pang of envy against hand, his own portrait of his own famous face, the youngsters. they are too well off. Why and whiskers, in the Illustrated London News had n't we picture-books? Why were wo the other day? There was a print in that pa- flogged so? A plague on the lictors and their per of an assemblage of Teetotallers in Sad- rods in the time of Plancus! fer's Wells Theatre, and we straightway recog- And now, after this rambling preface, we nized the old Roman hand- the old Roman's are arrived at the subject in hand-Mr. John of the time of Plancus - George Cruikshank's. Leech and his' Pictures of Life and character, There were the old bonnets and droll faces in the collection of Mr. Punch. This book is and shoes, and short trousers, and figures of better than plum-cake at Christmas. It is an 1820, sure enough. And there was George enduring plum-cake, which you may eat and (who has taken to the water-doctrine, as all which you may slice and deliver to your the world knows) handing some teetotaller- friends; and to which, having cut it, you may esses over a plank to the table where the pledge come again and welcome, from year's end to was being administered. How often has year's end. In the frontispiece you see Mr. George drawn that picture of Cruikshank ! Punch examining the pictures in his galleryWhere have n't we seen it? How fine it was, a portly, well-dressed, middle-aged respectable facing the effigy of Mr. Ainsworth in "Ains- gentleman, in a white neckcloth, and a polite worth's Magazine, when George illustrated that evening costume-smiling in a very bland and periodical! How grand and severe he stands agreeable manner upon one of his pleasant in that design in G. C.'s " Omnibus," where he drawings, taken out of one of his handsome represents himself tonged like St. Dunstan, portfolios. Mr. Punch has very good reason and tweaking a wretch of a publisher by the to smile at the work and be satisfied with the nose! The collectors of George's etchings- artist. Mr. Leech, his chief contributor, and O the charming etchings! O the dear old Ger- some kindred humorists, with pencil and pen man popular tales! the capital "Points of Hu-have served Mr. Punch admirably. Time was

these, contributors: he filled their places with others as good. The boys at the railroad stations cried Punch just as cheerily, and sold just as many numbers, after these events as before.

if we remember Mr. P.'s history rightly, that hierarchy, he lost the invaluable services, the he did not wear silk stockings nor well-made graceful pencil, the harmless wit, the charming clothes (the little dorsal irregularity in his fancy of Mr. Doyle. Another member of Mr. figure is almost an ornament now, so excellent Punch's cabinet, the biographer of Jeames, a tailor has he). He was of humble begin- the author of the Snob Papers, resigned his nings. It is said he kept a ragged little booth functions on account of Mr. Punch's assaults which he put up at corners of streets; associ- upon the present Emperor of the French ated with beadles, policemen, his own ugly nation, whose anger Jeames thought it was wife (whom he treated most scandalously), unpatriotic to arouse. Mr. Punch parted with and persons in a low station of life; earning a precarious livelihood by the cracking of wild jokes, the singing of ribald songs, and halfpence extorted from passers by. He is the Satyric genius we spoke of anon: he cracks his jokes still, for satire must live; but he is There is no blinking the fact that in Mr. combed, washed, neatly clothed, and perfectly I'unch's cabinet John Leech is the right-hand presentable. He goes into the very best com- man. Fancy a number of Punch without pany; he keeps a stud at Melton; he has a Leech's pictures! What would you give for moor in Scotland; he rides in the Park; has it? The learned gentlemen who write the his stall at the Opera; is constantly dining work must feel that, without him, it were as out at clubs and in private society; and goes well left alone. Look at the rivals whom the every night in the season to balls and parties, popularity of Punch has brought into the where you see the most beautiful women pos- field; the direct imitators of Mr. Leech's sible. He is welcomed amongst his new manner-the artists with a manner of their friends the great; though, like the good old own-how inferior their pencils are to his in English gentleman of the song, he does not humor, in depicting the public manners, in forget the small. He pats the heads of street arresting, amusing the nation. The truth, the boys and girls; relishes the jokes of Jack the strength, the free vigor, the kind humor, the costermonger and Bob the dustman: good- John Bull pluck and spirit of that hand are naturedly spies out Molly the cook flirting with approached by no competitor. With what policeman X, or Mary the nursemaid as she dexterity he draws a horse, a woman, a child! listens to the fascinating guardsman. He used He feels them all, so to speak, like a man. rather to laugh at guardsmen, 'plungers,' and What plump young beauties those are with other military men; and was until latter days which Mr. Punch's chief contributor supplies very contemptuous in his behavior towards the old gentleman's pictorial harem! What Frenchmen. He has a natural antipathy to famous thews and sinews Mr. Punch's horses pomp, and swagger, and fierce demeanor, have, and how Briggs, on the back of them, But now that the guardsmen are gone to war, scampers across country! You see youth, and the dandies of The Rag'-dandies no strength, enjoyment, manliness in those drawmore are battling like heroes at Balaklava and Inkermann by the side of their heroic allies, Mr. Punch's laughter is changed to hearty respect and enthusiasm.

ings, and in none more so, to our thinking, than in the hundred pictures of children which this artist loves to design. Like a brave, hearty, good-natured Briton, he becomes quite It is not against courage and honor he wars: soft and tender with the little creatures, pats but this great moralist-must it be owned?-gently their little golden heads, and watches has some popular British prejudices, and these with unfailing pleasure their ways, their sports, led him in peace-time to laugh at soldiers and their jokes, laughter, caresses. Enfans terriFrenchmen. If those hulking footmen who bles come home from Eton; young Miss pracaccompanied the carriages to the opening of tising her first flirtation; poor little ragged Parliament the other day, would form a plush Polly making dirt pies in the gutter, or stagbrigade, wear only gunpowder in their hair, gering under the weight of Jacky, her nurseand strike with their great canes on the enemy, child, who is as big as herself-all these little Mr. Punch would leave off laughing at Jeames, ones, patrician and plebeian, meet with kindwho meanwhile remains among us, to all out-ness from this kind heart, and are watched ward appearance regardless of satire, and with curious nicety by this amiable observer. calmly consuming his five meals per diem. We remember, in one of those ancient GillAgainst lawyers, beadles, bishops and clergy, ray portfolios, a print which used to cause a and authorities, Mr. Punch is still rather bitter. sort of terror in us youthful spectators, and in At the time of the Papal aggression he was which the Prince of Wales (His Royal Highprodigiously angry; and one of the chief mis- ness was a Foxite then) was represented as fortunes which happened to him at that period sitting alone in a magnificent hall after a vowas that, through the violent opinions which luptuous meal, and using a great steel fork in he expressed regarding the Roman Catholic the guise of a toothpick. Fancy the first