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till the next day at dinner. There was the same curiosity It seems to be agreed by the champions of hostile creeds on the part of the count, who, by the way, spoke German in philosophy that the will bas no control over this stream exclusively now; but the stranger was absorbed in his of mental images in fantastic combination, welling up dinner. Afterwards he strolled into the billiard-room to from every chamber of the brain when the pressure of outsmoke a cigar.

ward sensation is taken off. This is confessed alike by By and by the count and I went in to have a quiet game, those who would identify “the man himself" with the and there we found the new arrival comfortably lolling in bodily organization, and by those who claim for “the sou!” an ample rocking-chair by the fire.

a potential independence of the brain and nervous system. The count played badly, missing the easiest strokes. The will is felt to be practically inactive in sleep so far as “ You 're off your play to-night, count," I said ; " what's concerns that power of guiding, checking, or diverting the the matter ?”

course of thought which we possess while fairly awake, “ Don't mind me, gentlemen," said the stranger; “I hope and which may be called the power of mental self-rule. my being here don't make the count nervous," — he put a What is sometimes called attention is merely the force very remarkable emphasis on the title, —“I don't play the with which the mind applies itself to objects which excite continental way myself, though I do see a good many queer | a strong feeling at the time. This engrossing devotion to games at odd times. Now, was you ever in Scarbro', sir?the pursuit in which an immediate interest is felt seems addressing the count. “No! Leeds ? No! Hull, where analogous to the momentum of mechanical force. It is the steamers start for Bremen ? No! Manchester, per frequently in conflict with the voluntary mental action of haps ? No! Not been to Manchester ? Then," - he self-rule; the one is a servant of principle, while the had been sidling gradually nearer and nearer to the door other is too often a slave of passion. Now the latter, in as he talked, and was now between it and the count the mind of a sleeper, has all its own way, whereas the

- “then suppose you and I go back together, Mister Alex former has lost its hold upon the thinking machinery. ander Jenkinson, on this warrant I've got against you, for The higher moral sentiments, which can only be gratified forgery of a check on Gleeson's Bank at Manchester for by complete efforts of self-command, not by surrender even three thousand five hundred pounds! Oh yes ; it's all right, to noble impulses, are never consciously mingled with the and it's no good making a row. My name 's Inspector Raw feelings experienced in a dream. There is, indeed, conlings of the detective police, and me and my man here siderable activity of the social affections. But these affechave had a pretty hunt after you ; he and the gens d'armes tions, before their adoption into the sphere of moral deare waiting for you outside the door."

votedness, restupon a basis of egotism, as their objects Poor princess, with two strings to her bow, and both of have a personal connection with self, and of familiar assothem rotten! Still my wife would n't pity her yet.

ciation with the habits of life cherished in the past. The “ But, my dear," I expostulated, “ the poor thing will dreamer is an utter egotist, but he nevertheless loves and have to marry some Russian now, perhaps a Laplander, or bates his fellow-creatures quite as ardently as in waking one of those fellows that drink train-oil with their dinner. hours. He has no pure benevolence, nor any sense of And she such a monstrous fine woman too, to say nothing equity in the abstract. He is arrogant and quarrelsome, of her rank.”

and gets into violent passions for an imaginary cause. However, we had but little further call on our sympathy, Pride and disdain, the desire of social esteem, of rank and for the next day she left the bôtel.

praise, of mastery and victory, with fierce resentment of “So the princess is off,” I said to the maître the same day, insults and offences, invade the slumbers even of the meek. while paying my weekly bill.

On the other hand, those who are hard and cold-hearted “ Monsieur said ”.

may sometimes have dream-fits of extreme tenderness, and “I said the princess is off — gone, allée, sortie, partie, you melt in ecstasies of love and pity. know."

It is consistent with this loosened and partially dark“ Oui, oui ; but then, the princesse: who does monsieur ened state of the mind that a certain kind of remorse or wish to say, princesse ?

self-reproach should be felt during sleep. But this bears “ Why, of course the Princess of — well, the Russian

no regard to abstract moral principle, the idea of which, princess that did n't marry the baron or the ”

and of the highest responsibility, can only be entertained “Ah, bah! Who would call her a princesse ?.

by the full power of the waking mind. In general, man“ Why, you made us believe she was," I indignantly re kind seems to be governed by a twofold conscience. joined, " by making believe she was n't.”

There is the higher and inner conscience, resulting from “But monsieur remembers without doubt that I said she the ideas of absolute and essential obligation and of uniwas not princesse ?”.

versal law. There is also the external or customary con. “ So you did; but there's a way of saying no and look science, formed by recollections of approval or disapproval ing yes.”

consequent on particular acts, and this sort of empirical "Pardon, monsieur! The lady desired repose and to be conscience belongs to a well-trained dog. Now, during in particular; and I, I assisted that she should so be." sleep, as we have above remarked, the higher department « Well — now she's gone, in fact, what is she ? "

of moral consciousness appears to be closed. But the ha“ Monsieur, she is teacher of the dance at Marseilles." bitual association of particular deeds with agreeable or dis.

agreeable effects upon the moral sensibility is still carried on. We shall find it worth while to examine its operation

within the range of mental activity left to the sleeper. DREAMS.

It was just now observed that the condition of sleep

takes away from the will all control over the thoughts. The disciple of Lucretius invented by Professor Tyn It would be equally correct to say that the will, now dedall at Belfast to impugn Bishop Butler's psychology tached from the supreme guiding faculty of reason, referred to the story of his master's suicide in despair and becomes their sport and prey. Their origin, so far as we disgust at the remembrance of an unworthy dream. This can trace it, seems to lie in the random reminiscences of story has been treated also by Mr. Tennyson, in a poetical sensations formerly impressed on the brain, and linked soliloquy exposing the character of that unwholesome vis together, by millions of complex and subtle associations, ion, and the revolt of moral and intellectual pride against through the whole past life. Those combinations of senits degrading sway. It is not expedient here to examine sible ideas which have gained strength by repeated pres. the processes of thought and feeling under the application | entation, or which excite the passions and affections, of a stimulating drug to that particular capability of emo predominate in the floating mass. This constitutes the tion. But the attitude of the mind during sleep, with re- | idiosyncrasy, or natural disposition, and the direction of gard to the variety of fugitive ideas that present them- | the current of thoughts in sleep, as in vacant waking selves to a dreamer's consciousness, is a topic of general | hours, is usually determined by this alone. But the ideas and constant interest.

so presented never fail to arouse in sleep the feelings

which they would naturally excite in the waking mind. / set the ascetic devotee, and which used to be ascribed to The dreamer must needs surrender his will to these emo the interference of mischievous demons practising the tions without restraint, since he has nothing else to hold queerest tricks of illusion. But the effect is just as natufast by, nor any fixed point in sight. It is like being in a ral as that of withdrawing pressure from an elastic spring ship without a helm, borne along by wind and wave, the or an air-cushion, to which may be compared the topical shore being distant and the stars obscured. But, for the sources of those currents of nervous action, in the brain dreamer, to will a deed is to dream of instantly doing it, and organs of sensation, already placed en rapport with or striving to do it ; and then, if his previous waking the forbidden ideas. When the restraining power of conceptions of similar deeds were associated with painful rational discernment and moral resolution is absent, as it or shameful consequences, he feels intense mortification. | is during sleep, those parts of the cerebral and nervous It never occurs to him, as it so often does to men who are organization which have hitherto been prevented from wide awake, if they are sorry for what they have done, delivering their charge of representative impressions can that the wrongful act may be excused because their will to take their revenge. They send forth an impetuous throng resist was overcome by the impulse of passion. The of concrete imagery grouped around an unperceived cendreamer's consciousness tells him that he had not the slight- tral point, which is precisely the forgotten rule of conduct, est will to resist, and that his whole will, acting with its or ethical principle, for whose sake the will had formerly fullest energy, was bent upon doing the evil deed. He is been exerted to keep those images aloof. The reaction, therefore still oppressed with a sense of responsibility, and wbich is purely physical, comes just where the stress of with a vague terror of the consequences, and a feeling of voluntary repression was directly applied. But unhappily profound disgrace, though he does not see any other course this is not the end of the process. As we have seen, the that he could bave pursued. This is because the fatal presence of concrete ideas naturally suggestive of a prochain of ideas leading to the excitement of undue passion hibited action has an instantaneous effect upon the feeland to a corresponding resolve is not intersected or accom- | ings; emotion is followed by volition, and by an imaginary papied in the dreaming mind by reflections upon an alter-action, which is attended by a real pang of remorse. native or opposite line of conduct.

There is a less oppressive form of bondage to the nocturEvery person in waking hours, yielding to habit or tonal magician who plays such pranks with the mind shut up feeling or to some outward influence, must nevertheless in its fleshly prison when the doors and windows of sense think somewhat of the possibility of doing otherwise, if are closed. It is not always a malignant Satan, but someonly to reject that possibility. But it is not so with the times a frolicsome Puck or Queen Mab, that slyly touches man in his sleep, inasmuch as the mind is then deprived of the hidden strings of the wonderful instrument — gray its faculty of comparing the alternatives, as well as of its jelly and white fibres being all we can see — by which the power to dismiss an objectionable train of ideas, and to trace of every past impression is preserved, recalled, and commence one preferred by rational judgment. This is wrought into ever new combinations. The greatest of our the exercise of mind guarded by the higher moral sense poets and psychologists, who makes a virtuous hero pray or true conscience. The secondary conscience, ordinarily | God at midnight to " restrain in me the cursed thoughts proceeding from the fear of censure and contempt, or from that nature gives way to in repose," describes also, with other notions of self-interest, or from mere custom, has no exquisite humor and truth, the ludricrous incidents which. jurisdiction over the thoughts. Its useful office is to re not less frequently arise in a sleeper's harmless frenzy. He prove the faults of outward action and expression. The bas noted more especially how these lighter casual fancies apparent capability of the will to commit these faults dur are sometimes imported into the dream by an actual touch ing sleep is therefore visited by reproaches from what we - or, it may be, an actual sound – which forces an enmay call the secondary conscience, which is lively enough trance into the receptacle of sensations, and summons a fain dreams. Yet its operation in this instance is blindly miliar troop of allied ideas to join it. Queen Mab's tiny mechanical, and is not more a visitation of justice than chariot is driven across the knee of a courtier, and makes any form of physical suffering caused by accident or dis- | him think of bending that knee before the king. It tickles ease.

the band of a lawyer, and he seems to be fingering a fee ; The innocent victims of its severity are a very numer or it passes over a lady's lips, and gives her the pleasure ous class, and deserve our sincere compassion. It is sad to of a lover's kiss. Experiments have often been tried in know that not only the humiliating sense of moral impo- this way, to the amusement of those who have practised on tence, but the guilt of conscious transgression, is the their sleeping friends, when these are persuaded afterwards nigbtly portion of many wise and virtuous men. The saint to confess the subjects of their dreams. Even a word or in his sleep is sometimes transformed into a blackguard, | two spoken in the sleeper's ear has been known to introthe hero behaves like a sneak, and the prudent citizen duce the idea of its proper meaning into the mind without becomes an impertinent fool. The gentlest and kindest breaking the chain of slumber, and to originate a fresh find themselves doing murder among their families and dream, or to mix up this idea with those he had before. friends. The man of honor toils all night to concoct a It is by the observation of such facts that we learn how scheme of fraud. The divine preacher or pastor catches the lapse of a few seconds, or the very moment of waking, himself uttering horrid blasphemy in church. It is prob- | may be long enough for a dream that seems to the sleeper ably the persons most averse, by temperament as well as of immense duration. The breaking of a glass at the bedon principle, to any particular kind of vice who are most side, in Tennyson's “ Sea Dreams," raises in the man's liable to dream of it. And such dreams are quite as likely to laboring fancy a somewhat protracted vision of a fleet of visit their couch after days faithfully employed in the strict glass ships at sea drifting to wreck upon a reef of golden discharge of duty, or in contemplating a poble or sacred rocks. In these hullucinations caused by some actual imideal. This is not inconsistent with our remark concern- pression from without, the emotional activity is less intense ing the effect of dominant ideas upon the set of the current | — the dream is less profound and less seriously taken to of loosened thoughts. The ideas of piety and holiness, of | heart — than where the images are evolved wholly from equity, of charity, of sobriety and propriety, have a latent the deep store of old experiences. The affections, having association with their opposites, which may be excluded grown up about the ideas presented in the latter case, are from the waking mind by discipline and culture, but lurk prompt to respond at the instant of their reappearance. somewhere in the heap of stored-up mental conceptions. Both ideas and affections, indeed, may easily be aroused When it seethes and stirs in the unchecked flow of dreaming by a half consciousness of some accidental circumstance in reminiscences, such images as have been repressed by the the posture of the body. But the sleep is lighter upon voluntary exercise of mental self-control, on account of these occasions, as the mind is partially awake to outward their connection with the idea of sin, will often emerge | impressions, and the dream is not attended with very earwith a scandalous air of familiarity.

nest feeling. In the deepest and sincerest of our dreams, as Every reader of the “Acta Sanctorum ” must remember in the imaginative genius of the greatest poet, tbere is an some curious instances of this trouble which is apt to be- element of the richest humor. Its creations are, however,

like those of dreaming passion, too often exhibited at the Louis Philippe, it would have been said, might have died cost of our personal self-respect. Queen Mab delights in on the throne but for the infatuation of his minister, and making us ridiculous, and exposing us to fancied public Guizot might have placed the monarchy beyond the dread shame. People seem to come and go without the least of revolution if his great intellect had not been blinded by warning, and one person is unaccountably exchanged for his ungovernable pride. another, so that we address them wrongly, and tell them. In the main, we think, these denunciations would have what ought not to be told. All this makes us feel very | been just; but they would have left out of sight a large much ashamed of ourselves, but we cannot help it. The part of Guizot's life, and the best part of his character. simplest plight, however, of conscious impotence is when Happily the Revolution of 1848 banished him forever from in our dream we have something to say or to do, and find | office, and forced him to live in the solitude of Val Rieber that we cannot open our lips, or move hand or foot. In for a quarter of a century. Few men have been better this instance probably the motor nerves have been faintly ! fitted by nature and by training to enjoy a country life, and stirred by a summons of the will, but not with sufficient | the solitude of his Normandy home not only brought out energy to act upon the muscles.

all that was best.in Guizot's character, but softened the An endless variety of absurd conditions might be related memory of his political errors. It enabled his enemies to by a diligent historian of authentic dreaming experiences. see how great a man he remained, even after justice had In general, it inay be owing to indigestion, or to some ob assailed him with a stern indictment. English people, in struction of the breathing or in the circulation of the blood, particular, soon forgot the questionable part of his career. that dreams are pervaded by a vague anxiety which con They had always found good reason to like him. He had tinually invents some fictitious blunder or disaster. There studied our history as deeply and as reverentially as if he is always a propensity to conceive that something has gone had been an Englishman, and he had written books of perwrong, because the overloaded stomach, or the brain over- | manent value on the men of our greatest revolution. Our charged with too much business and study, disturbs the form of government, and the temper in which we usually spontaneous action of those faculties still allowed to play. conduct political disputes, had been the subject of his adTheir dramatic representations, in which, from the unsleep miration. He was never tired of telling his own countrying and absorbing egotistic consciousness, the dreamer him men that they inust strive to acquire the political fairness self is a chief performer, borrows from his bodily uneasiness of the English. Such admiration, coming from such a man, a complexion of discomfort. He may not become in his was the most powerful of all flattery, and it is no wonder, sleep the murderer of his wife and children, but he will then, that the English public admired M. Guizot in turn. perpetrate grievous mistakes and hear sundry voices of re He had also other attractions of almost equally great force. buke and complaint. The subject of complaint, indeed, He was a Protestant, and he was proud of his creed. Calthough it appeared a serious matter in the dream, may umny had never dared to whisper a syllable against his afford him a hearty laugh when his eyes open in the morn private life, and all knew it to be stainless. M. Guizot had ing. A curious instance of this kind befell the present displayed all these good qualities when he had lived in writer. He thought he was an undertaker, and reëntered London as the ambassador of Louis Philippe, and they his workshop after a brief absence. “Oh, sir," his journey could not be forgotten when he lived as an exile in Brompman or apprentice said to him, “ that old gentleman you ton. He was likewise fond of English ways, the English buried on Tuesday has been bere again, to say his coffin is language, and English people. He himself was a master a very bad fit, three inches too short. He says he never of our tongue, although he never lost the French accent, had such an uncomfortable coffin in his life." Here was and his family spoke English as we!l as if they had been something wrong with a vengeance, and the dreamer felt | natives of these islands. sincerely sorry, as a good tradesman should be, that one During his later years, the old statesman drew many of his customers was so badly served.

English visitors to Val Richer, and they were charmed by the simplicity and the beauty of his life. His studious habits, his walks with his grandchildren, bis cheerfulness,

the affection and respect which he inspired, the daily readM. GUIZOT.

ing of the Bible in the midst of his family, the worship in

which he took part with patriarchal fervor, and the freshHad M. Guizot died in 1847, after he had brought about ness of the interest with which he studied and discussed the Spanish marriages, or in 1848, after he had pulled the daily events of his own afflicted country, - all made down the monarchy of Louis Philippe, the general judg-| up a beautiful picture of a green and great old age. ment of his character would have been very different from During his visits to Paris be showed more of his old restwhat it is to-day. Men of the world, as well as stern less self. The drawing-room of his daughter, Madame de moralists, would have said that he had beartlessly bound a Witt, in which he received his friends, was the scene, if young queen to a man whom she did not love, whom she not of intrigue, at least of political talk at once animated could not love, and who was to be her husband only in ' and fervidly Royal; and at the age of eighty-four, or even name. They would have said that the austere professor of eighty-six, Guizot flung himself into the conversation as of a Puritanic creed and the pattern of domestic virtues | eagerly as the youngest of the throng. Little more than had been guilty of a crime which even the cynicism of the two years ago, on one of these occasions, the present writer world itself does not condone. They would have said I found the old philosopher as erect, as lively, and seemingly that so base an intrigue could not serve France in the as vigorous as men of half his age. The grasp of his hand long-run, and that events would yet prove Guizot to have i had almost the strength and the firmness of youth, and his been as short-sighted as he had been unscrupulous. A voice had a ring and a steady power which suggested that different class of censors would have uttered an equally | he might still have won honors in the tribune. emphatic condemnation after the Revolution of 1848. His immense fund of energy found vent in the deliberaHow, they would have asked, could Guizot have believed tions of the French Academy, to which he went oftener that a constitutional monarchy, the most delicate of all than many of the younger members. He was ever ready political machines, could be supported in France, the most to take part in discussions on philology or style ; and volcanic of all countries, on so limited a suffrage as to | M. Cuvillier Fleury tells us that only a few weeks ago the constitute the bourgeoisie a new aristocracy, and by the wonderful old man vigorously debated literary and gramaid of what was substantially a vast system of bribes ? | matical questions. And he domineered in the Academy How could so able a man have persuaded himself that he as much as he had once domineered in the Senate. He could resist the demand for an extension of the suffrage ?) ruled that body with a rod of iron. His word could ex. How could go profound a student of the British constitu clude a candidate or make a prayer for admission certain tion and of English history have taught himself that a to succeed. It was he who a few months ago raised the king whose title came from an Act of Parliament could tempest respecting the reception of M. Émile Ollivier. rely on a mingled system of corruption and main force ? | He would not permit the political trifler who had made war against Germany with a “light heart” to praise France, in spite of M. Thiers, in spite of the satirists, in the man of Sedan in the theatre of the Palais Mazarin, and spite of his Protestantism, and in spite of the fact that he he stigmatized M. Ollivier to his face, with some of the was feared rather than loved even by his followers. Such angry contempt which had once Aung forth the famous re a man was surely great in force of character. tort, “ Montez, messieurs, montez! vous n'arriverez jamais His literary work can be spoken of with more comfort. à la hauteur de mon dédain." His capacity for discharge | Guizot was not a great writer in the same sense as our own ing the bitterest and most Olympian scorn could be easily | Carlyle, for neither his thought nor his style was so discredited by any person who had even once seen his intense tinctive or so moving as to constitute a landmark in literand eager expression, his finely-cbiselled features, his high | ary effort. His reflections tended to become thin, and his but retreating brow, bis pale and emaciated face, and those rhetoric lacked the incomparable simplicity, brevity, and lines of the lips which seemed to imply everlasting deter easy flow of the best French prose. He has written no mination. No one could wonder that such a man could book that has made a marked change in the current of debate a point of philology as fiercely as he could argue a opinion, nor bas he left a single page of classic style. If question of state. And the Protestant Consistory felt his we look at the quality of his writing, we should call him power as much as the French Academy. He was not only eminent rather than great. And yet it is, again, difficult a Protestant, but a Protestant of the oldest and most bibli. to deny the title of “great" to a man who in his youth cal orthodoxy. He was, perhaps, the only man of our time wrote the works on the Civilization of Europe and of whose intellect was first-rate, whose philosophical percep France, and who in later years so powerfully told the story tions were of European extent, and yet whose theological of our own Puritan revolution. His philosophical writing creed was that of the sixteenth century. He seems to have stands, at all events, on a high plane. It is free from the absolutely hated the Latitudinarian party. Hence all the slightest tinge of provincialism, and is, indeed, addressed attempts of M. Cocquerel fils, and the other representatives | to the whole of educated Europe. He would have left a of French Latitudinarianism, to expand the compass of the high name in literature, even if he had written nothing old Huguenot belief, and to soften the austerity of its dog-| more than his books on the philosophy of civilization. matic deliverances, found in Guizot the most implacable of There is one damning blot on his character, and that is foes. He seems to have regarded these Unitarians as al. the share which he took in the negotiation of the Spanish most wicked ; and he was the leader of the party who, marriages. It was he who must be held responsible for during a memorable debate in the Consistory two years that foul transaction. In vain do his friends plead that ago, defeated the attempt to include the Unitarians within the selfish ambition of Louis Philippe was the cause of the the legal bounds of Protestant belief. His enemies styled intrigue; for Guizot could have left office rather than have him "Pope Guizot," and he merited the title. A more lent his genius to the perpetration of such an infamy, and Hildebrandine personality has not been cast into the strifes the truth is that he flung himself into the grimy business of this century.

with amazing zeal. Equally in vain is it to say that the Guizot lived so long, and did European work so early, rival diplomatists were not a wbit more high-minded. that it is not difficult to guess the place which he will hold That is not true of Lord Aberdeen, and if it is true of the in the estimation of posterity. As a statesman, he cannot others, it furnishes no excuse to the Puritanic Guizot. be accounted great, if the proof of greatness be success. He ought to have risen above so base a thing. It would His political career was a splendid disaster, and it was such seem that essentially theological natures, when they plunge because he knew books better than men. He boasted that into intrigue, are peculiarly apt to blur the plain lines of he was a doctrinaire, but he meant that he was a philo morality by the subtlety of their manipulation. No nest sophic statesman. In reality he had so begirt himself with of secular intrigue is so gross as an ecclesiastical synod, the armor of pedantry, that he could not move freely among and Guizot seems to have carried a dangerous habit of the shifting throng of the world. He fancied that he could casuistry into the Council-chamber and the Senate. He import the British constitution, and what he did import was one of those high-minded men whose subtlety often was a constitutional rock on which the monarchical ship leads them to do acts which shock even the rough moral went to pieces. Had he been less of a professor, had he sense of the crowd. Nor, when laboriously telling the been more teachable, or bad he not regarded bis fellow-be miserable story in his own memoirs, does he betray any ings with infinite disdain, France might still have been a perception of the fact that he had been sinning against an monarchy, with Louis Philippe II. as her king. Guizot was elementary law of human nature. He forgets every other mainly responsible for the ruin of his own party. But it consideration in the desire to show that he had preëmiwould be a mistake to deny the claim of greatness to all nently served bis master and France. But in reality he statesmen who have missed the main object of their life; had injured both, wbile he had brought woe to Spain. and it is difficult to withhold such a title from Guizot, Let it be added, however, that the negotiation of the Spanwhen we look more closely at his career.

ish marriages is the one sinister record of his career, and In bis youth, before he entered the Chamber of Deputies, that the purity of his private life was as marked as the he was for years the mainspring of the Ministry of the In fatal flaw in his public. On the whole, he was a great if terior. As Minister of Public Instruction, he effected a erring man; great in the intensity of his ambition, and greater change in the educational system of his country the force of his will, and the domineering strength of his than any of bis successors. For eight years he was in character; great in his freedom from the frailties of our fakt, if not in name, Prime Minister of France, and during nature ; great in the place which he has carved for himall that time he was, on the whole, the first of European self in European history; and his greatness was softened statesmen. His immense knowledge of political facts, his into something like beauty by the serene evening of his faculty for work, his vigorous pen, his splendid powers of long and illustrious life. debate, bis iron will, and the strength of his personality, enabled him to crush a host of foes, and to hold the chief place in a country which is more difficult to rule than any Other. Nor did he hold his place by playing upon the affections or the vanity of the men whom he managed. He

FOREIGN NOTES. never condescended to flatter or troubled himself to please. He lectured King Louis Philippe, the vainest of men, and TENNYSON has a babit which is exasperating to the therefore the most impatient of dictation. He lectured the reader, and must be particularly exasperating to his pubChamber of Deputies, the most turbulent body in Europe. lishers -- that of rearranging and adding to each new ediHe lectured his subordinates. We suspect that he tried to tion of his old poems, thereby rendering the previous edilecture Lord Palmerston, and he certainly attempted to tions incomplete. The forthcoming volume of the (Lonbrowbeat Lord Aberdeen. The habitual attitude was that | don) Cabinet Edition of the Laureate's works will contain of a lecturer to the whole human race, and hence he stirred two new pieces, “In the Garden at Swainton," and " The up a host of enemies. Yet he held the front place in | Voice and the Peak.”

Messrs. HENRY S. King & Co. announce a volume Metz, as Trochu and Ducrot at Paris, as Bourbaki and from the pen of Mr. H. Curwen, in which the main idea Clinchant in the East. He forgot all that when he became has been to select the most typical examples of Literary | President of the Republic;' and the whole letter is full of Strugglers in the chief countries of the world. The writers similar insults or innuendoes. The Duc d'Aumale is nattreated of are: Novalis, as representing Germany; Henri urally assailed with a peculiar bitterness, to which he may Murger and André Chénier, France; Edgar Allan Poe, be more or less reconciled when he reads the glowing eulogy America; Alexander Petöfi, Hungary ; Chatterton, Eng. passed on Marshal Lebæuf. The letter is utterly without land ; and Tannabill, Scotland.

historical value, except as an exhibition of a very coarse There has been discovered at the Castello di Malpaga,

and vulgar character.” near Bergamo, a fresco which is attributed to Titian, rep

In consequence of the great development in other cities resenting the visit of Christian I., King of Denmark, in of Germany of the special branches of industry, as watch 1454, to the famous condottiere Bartolomeo Colleoni, who and toy-making, of which Nürnberg at one time enjoyed, if had retired and held his court there in his old age, after

not the monopoly, at any rate the principal share, the Ba. having successively served the Visconti against Venice, varian Government has determined, by the establishment Venice against the Visconti, Milan against the Duke of

of more efficient local schools of art, to give the Nürnberg Saxony, and Florence against the Duke of Urbino.

artisans the opportunity of recovering their lost prestige. A PERFORMANCE for the benefit of Mlle. Déjazet, who'

Of late years the specialties of Nürnberg have been almost at the conclusion of a long career, is in need of assistances

wholly cheap toys, playthings, and fancy articles of inferior is being arranged in Paris. M. Sardou has contributed a

quality ; in olden times, however, the reputation of the play, and the companies of the Vaudeville, the Variétés, town was of a very different character, and there is and the Palais Royal have promised their assistance. A

scarcely an art collection in any part of Germany that is significant comment upon the uncertain tenure of theatrical

without evidence of the skill of the Nürnbergers of past prosperity is afforded in this demand in favor of an actress

ages. Every art connoisseur is familiar with the drinking. who has enjoyed an amount of popularity almost unprec

cups, goblets, christening-mugs, silver and gold plate, and edented.

all the clocks, watches, and other ingenious inventions for

which the place was specially famed in the Middle Ages; Tue influence of forests on the rainfall has long been the

while in the city itself the memorials of its past artistic subject of discussion. MM. Fautrat and Sartiaux have re

excellence and ingenuity meet one at every turn. In cently communicated to the Academy of Sciences of France

the present day, however, Nürnberg no longer gives evithe result of some large experiments which appear to deter- | dence of artistic proficiency in any branch of industry, and mine the question. In various parts of the forest of Halatte, it is to reawaken its lost sense of the beauty and the excelthey fixed rain-gauges and other instruments. Similar in- | lence of its old works of art, that the Government bas struments were fixed by them over open ground. The result

opened new schools of art and an art museum, which is of six months' observations has been to show that in the

| to be in connection with the older local art schools. forest 192.50 mm. of rain fell, and in the open ground 177 mm., a difference of 15.50, in favor of the forest. Hence, they consider that forests are a provision to secure an increased rainfall. There is at last good official evidence, apparently, of

THE FUCHSIA. the existence of a cuttle-fish of not less portentous dimen

Within the mountain lodge we sat sions than that described by Victor Hugo. It was seen in

At night, and watched the slanted snow Conception Bay, off Newfoundland, last October, and the

Blown headlong over hill and moor, intelligence was communicated by Lord Kimberley to Mr.

And heard, from dell and tarn below, Frank Buckland, but the correspondence only appeared in

The loosened torrents thundering slow. Land and Water last week. Two fishermen, out in a small punt, saw what they supposed to be a large sail or the

'T was such a night as drowns the stars, débris of a wreck. On striking it, it raised a parrot-like

And blots the moon from out the sky; beak as big as a six-gallon keg, and began to twine two

We could not see our favorite larch, huge, livid arms about the boat. Happily for their lives,

Yet heard it rave incessantly, and also for their credibility, they instantly cut off the arms

As the white whirlwinds drifted by. with an axe, whereon the creature moved off, bleeding ink

Sad thoughts were near; we might not bar which darkened the water for two or three hundred yards,

Their stern intrusion from the door; while it raised a tail some ten feet broad. They estimate

Till you rose meekly, lamp in hand, the octopus to have been sixty fee: long and five in diame

And, from an inner chamber, bore ter, and one of the arms, now in St. John's Museum, sus

A book renowned by sea and shore. tains the marvellous tale. It measures nineteen feet, is of a pale pink color, and entirely cartilaginous. The Sea

And, as you flung it open, lo! Serpent will, no doubt, next pay with part of his person.

Between the pictured leaflets lay

Embalmed by processes of Time The Spectator says: “ M. Bazaine has not improved

A gift of mine, a fuchsia spray, his position by his appeal to the editor of the New York

I gathered one glad holiday. Herald. The Atlantic has been somewhere described as a vast Lethe, for those who cross it, as regards the people

Then, suddenly, the chamber changed, whom they meet on the other side; but American opinion

And we forgot the snow and wind; has not as yet much influence in rehabilitating those who

Once more we paced a garden-path,

With even feet and even mind conceive themselves wronged by European tribunals; and

That red spray in your hair confined. the New York Herald itself is hardly regarded as a true conduit to the highest and most equitable region of Ameri

The cistus trembled by the porch, can opinion. Russian opinion is indeed that of which M.

The shadow round the dial moved : Bazaine himself, apparently, most values the testimony.

I knew this, though I marked them not, He says, • Its appreciation, of which I am very sensible, has

For I had spoken, unreproved, often brought me precious consolation. One act of jus

And, dreamlike, knew that I was loved. tice, at least, must, he says, be rendered to M. Bazaine. ' It is that I have imitated the conduct of the Emperor ;

Sweet wife! when falls a darker night, that I have never accused any one, or sought to cast re

May some pure flower of memory,

Hid in the volume of the soul, sponsibility on others. In the very next paragraph he

Bring back, o'er life's tormented sea, says, “MacMahon was as unfortunate at Sedan as I at

As dear a peace to you and me.

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