CHAMBERS' EDINBURGH JOURNAL

 CONDUCTED BY WILLIAM AND ROBERT CHAMBERS, EDITORS OF 'CHAMBERS'S INFORMATION FOR THE PEOPLE, ' 'CHAMBERS'S EDUCATIONAL COURSE, ' &c. 

 No. 449. NEW SERIES. SATURDAY, AUGUST 7, 1852. PRICE 1-1/2_d. _

THE SULTAN'S BEAR. [1]

The sultan being one day rather out of sorts, sent for his Jewishphysician, a man very eminent for skill in his profession, and notless distinguished by his love of his own nation and his desperateenmity to the Christians. Finding that his patient had not really muchthe matter with him, and thinking a little gossip would not only bemore agreeable, but more likely to do him good, than any medicinewhich could be prescribed, the doctor began to discourse on the veryfamiliar topic of his highness's favourite bear, which was lying athis feet, and whose virtues and abilities he was never tired ofextolling. 

'You would wonder, ' said the sultan, 'not only at the natural sagacityof the creature, and the tact which he shews in a thousand differentways, but at the amount of knowledge he has collected, and the logicalcorrectness with which he uses it. He is really a very knowing beast. 'The Jew politely acquiesced in all this and much more; but at lengthadded: 'It is well that such a clever animal is in such good hands. Ifhis extraordinary talents are not developed to the utmost, they are atleast not perverted and made a bad use of. '

'I hope not, indeed, ' said the sultan. 'But what do you mean by histalents not being developed? or in what way would they be likely to beperverted in bad hands?'

'Pardon me, ' said the Jew; 'I have spoken rashly before your sublimehighness--such things should not be talked of; but it is natural that, although I know very little about them, I should consider the practiceand the purpose bad, when they belong to what I consider a bad people:at the same time, if your sublime highness thinks fit to toleratethem, it is not for your faithful slave to say a word about it. Ishould be sorry that your sublime highness should not extend to yourChristian subjects the same toleration and paternal kindness my ownpeople enjoy. '

'What in the world do you mean?' said the sultan. 'What have theChristians to do with my bear?'

'Nothing at all, ' replied the Jew with great earnestness; and headded, with a sigh, 'that is the very thing I am thankful for. It issuch a remarkable creature, that there is no saying what might come ofit. '

'Come of what?' said the sultan. 

'Why, ' said the Jew, in a humble and very confidential tone, 'yoursublime highness is of course aware, that among the many curioussecrets the Christians possess, they have one which enables them toteach bears to read. '

'You don't say so?' exclaimed the sultan. 'How do they contrive it?'

'Ah, ' replied the Jew with an internal shudder, 'that is more than Ican tell your sublime highness. I don't suppose that half-a-dozen ofyour subjects, except themselves, are aware of the fact; and few evenamong the Christians know the secret. I only obtained the littleknowledge I have by accidental circumstances, which put me upon theinquiry; and I was a long while before I could feel perfectly certainthat they actually did the thing. _How_ they did it, and _why_, I havenever been able to learn. It is one of their greatest secrets, one oftheir deepest, and therefore, I suspect, one of their most perniciousmysteries. I do not suppose that any man among them would confess itto save his life--not even the old patriarch, if he were put to therack. '

'It is very strange, ' said the sultan, after a pause. 

'It is wonderful, ' said the physician with much emphasis. 

'What is the harm of it?' exclaimed the sultan abruptly after a pause. 'Why should not bears read as well as men, if they are capable oflearning?'

'Most true and most wisely said, ' replied the Jew. 'If they weretaught to read good books, it would probably mend their manners. Butif that were all, why should there be so much mystery about it? whyshould these people do it so secretly, and deny it so stoutly?' andagain he shook his head, and shuddered. But being fully persuaded thathe had gained his point, he thought it safest to change the subject;and accordingly he did so as soon as he had emphatically and earnestlyentreated the sultan not to say a word of the secret he had been ledto impart, or, at all events, not to let it be known that _he_ hadgiven any information on the subject. 

When the doctor was gone, the sultan fell into a reverie on theadvantages and disadvantages of his bear learning to read. When hewent to bed, the same train of thought kept him awake; and after asleepless night, he sent early in the morning for the patriarch. Thevenerable Mar Yusef lost no time in obeying the summons. Taking hispatriarchal staff in his hand, and followed by his two deacons withtheir heads bare, and their hands crossed on their bosoms, he silentlybent his way towards the palace, pondering in his mind on all thevarious things he could think of as possible causes for his beingwanted by the sultan. The sultan dismissed all his attendants; and assoon as he and the patriarch were alone, he beckoned him to approach, and when the aged ecclesiastic had come quite close, and again bowed, not only out of respect, but instinctively, as one does who expects awhisper, the sultan said in a low, earnest tone: 'You know my bear?'

'I do, please your sublime highness, ' replied Mar Yusef; 'and a veryfine bear he is. '

'I know that, ' answered the sultan; 'but the matter is this, ' and helowered his voice, and increased the earnestness of his tone: 'Youmust teach him to read. '

'To read!' exclaimed the patriarch, thunderstruck. 'To read! the thingis impossible. '

'Of course, I knew you would say that, ' said the sultan; 'you must doit, however, or it will be the worse for you and for all your people. '

'Most willingly would I do that, or anything lawful, to shew myrespect for your sublime highness, ' said the astonished patriarch;'but, as I have already had the honour to observe, the thing isimpossible. '

'Don't tell me, ' said the sultan. 'I know more about the matter thanyou imagine. There is no use in trying to conceal it. I know uponundoubted authority, that you have taught bears, and many of them, Idaresay, of less capacity than mine. I shall send him to you thisevening, and if you do not bring him back in six weeks able to read, it will be as I have already told you--at your peril, and to the ruinof all that belong to you. So, now, do not waste time, for I am quitein earnest about it; but go and make preparations to receive him, forhe has been used to courteous treatment. '

This speech was accompanied by a wave of the hand, which precluded allreply, and the troubled patriarch silently and slowly withdrew. 

'My children, ' said the patriarch on his way home, addressing the twoyoung men who were supporting him, 'the sultan has resolved to destroyus, and all the Christians in his dominions. He is seeking occasionagainst us. He does not make open war upon us; but he secretlycommands us to do what is impossible, in order that he may have apretext for our destruction. He requires that in six weeks we shouldteach his bear to read!'

'The old brute!' exclaimed the deacon Timothy. 

'My father, ' said the other deacon, Titus, 'suffer me to speak. '

'Speak, my son, ' replied the aged man, in a voice scarcely articulate, while he gently withdrew his hand, and laid it on the deacon's head;'what wouldst thou say?'

'Under favour, most dear and reverend father, ' replied Titus, 'I wouldsay that, whatever the sultan's design may be, you should not bediscouraged; and that if you will only do one thing, which I earnestlyentreat you to do, I will cheerfully undertake all the rest, and Idoubt not that we may get clear through this difficulty. '

'What would you have me do, my son?' said the patriarch. 

'Just this, ' replied the deacon, 'if I may be permitted to advise: goback to the sultan as quickly as possible, and say that, onconsideration, you are sorry that you hesitated--that you will behappy to receive his bear--that you will do your best, and hope togive him satisfaction in the matter. '

'What! my son, ' said the patriarch, 'would you have me go to thesultan, and undertake to teach his bear _to read_? You do not know howdifficult it is even to teach young children. ' But the deacon pleadedso earnestly, that his superior at length consented; and returning tothe palace, the patriarch signified to the sultan, that he had thoughtbetter of the subject, and was willing to do anything in his power togive his sublime highness satisfaction. 

'No doubt you can, if you will, ' said the sultan hastily, but not inill-humour; 'and I expect you to do it--you might as well have agreedto it at once. '

When the patriarch was at home, seated in his armchair, with hisdeacons standing on each side, and a little recovered from the fatigueof the walk, he turned to Titus, and said: 'Well, my son, and what amI to do now?'

'Nothing, my father, ' replied the deacon cheerfully. 'You have doneall I asked you to do, and what remains I will readily undertake. '

So he made his bow, and set off to make his arrangements. He chose alittle square room up one pair of stairs in the north turret, andparted off about a third of it with strong horizontal bars, six inchesapart. The two lowest bars were movable, and the spaces between themleft open, to admit air and light, as well as to allow the inmate togo in and be brought out at the pleasure of his keepers; but all abovethem were boarded over, except that one which was of such a height aswould be about even with the bear's head when he should stand on hishind legs. This space was left open along the whole length of the den, so that, in any part of it, he could very conveniently put forth hisnose far enough to look about him. 

'And now, ' said Titus to his comrade Timothy, when he had completedthese preparations, 'I must go to seek for a book and a desk; and ifthey bring the bear before I come back, will you be so good as to seehim put in, and also to mind that the other end of the chain, which Ihave padlocked to the staple in the wall, is fastened to his collar, and is long enough to allow of his lying down comfortably in thestraw, and taking a little turn backwards and forwards, if he likes?and don't let them give him anything to eat, and take care not to beout of the way--that is a good fellow. '

'You may depend upon me, ' said Timothy; and Titus went off to thechurch, to see about a lectionary, for the bear to study, though, tosay the truth, not entirely, or even principally, with that intention;for he did not mean that his pupil should commence that day, or thenext; and he was in no doubt which to choose among many oldlectionaries that had been laid aside. There was an immense one, withgreat brass knobs and corners, out of which he had himself learned tochant long before he could lift it, and indeed, now that he was cometo man's estate, it was as much as he could carry. This book he meantto use; but for the present he contented himself with observing fromthe window the bear coming to school in procession; and when he wassatisfied that his pupil was in safe custody, he descended from thechurch-tower, and went to see after him. When he came to the door ofthe apartment, he waited a moment to listen to what seemed aninterchange of anything but civilities between Timothy and his charge. Titus called out his colleague; and, without going in himself, lockedthe door, and put the key in his pocket. 

'Won't you go in and look at him?' said Timothy, as they went down thestaircase together. 

'Time enough, ' said Titus; 'he will be better by himself just atpresent. Had you much trouble in getting him in? How did he behave?'

'Rather restive, ' replied Timothy; 'but we managed it among us. Shouldnot he have something to eat?'

'No, ' said Titus; 'he has got plenty of water; he will do very well. But now come and help me down with the old lectionary from the uppervestry, for I don't think I can get it down that staircase myself. 'Between them the lectionary was safely brought down, and deposited, not in the apartment, which we may now call the school-room, but inthe chamber of Titus, on a massy oak desk or lectern, which turnedupon its pedestal, and which they brought out from the patriarch'slibrary for the purpose. 

It was well that the school-room was rather remote, and had thickwalls; for, missing his supper, the bear naturally became not onlyhungry, but savage, growled in the most ferocious manner, and rampagedabout his cage like a fury. But he got nothing by it; and when he haddrunk up the water, and exhausted his powers of growling and raging, he went to sleep. In the morning, Titus brought him merely some freshwater and a cake of barley-bread; but in the afternoon, thinking itwas now time for his pupil--who was tolerably tame after his unwontedexercise and fasting--to begin his studies, he brought with him thegreat book he had prepared for his use, and placed it open on thedesk, which now stood before the horizontal opening between the barsalready described. All the morning had been employed in preparing thedesk and the book; and the former was now so contrived that, by meansof a screw, the latter could be raised or lowered at pleasure. Thebook was no sooner placed before the opening, at the distance of a fewinches, than the bear, which was on the look-out to see what was goingforward, began to snuff and poke, and shewed a most eager desire toreach it. In fact, all along the lines of large letters, which werewidely divided by the musical staves, the tutor, well knowing thetaste of his pupil, had stuck little figs, dates, raisins, almonds, morsels of cake, comfits, and dried fruits; in short, all such littlesweet things as bears so particularly delight in. The book was placedat such a height and distance, that the pupil could only reach the topline; and the eager manner in which he cleared it, gave promise thathe would prove an apt scholar in that branch of learning. One pageonly was thus prepared for him; for at that period of his education itwould have been impossible, without harsher measures than his tutorwished to adopt, to prevent him from cross-readings, which wouldgreatly have blemished his scholarship. Some minor offences, such, forinstance, as inordinate efforts to begin upon a second line before hehad regularly perused the first, were punished by switching him on thenose, turning the double desk round--in which case it presented himwith a mirror, that frightened him dreadfully--or even, in case ofperverseness, leaving him to himself, without giving him thesubstantial honey-cake, which always rewarded a well-said lesson. In ashort time the parties began to understand one another, and as Titushad prudently taken care to be known to his pupil only as abenefactor, he soon gained his confidence. The bear who, like all hisrace, had an ardent love for such dainties, found that he was welcometo eat all he could get, if he did but do it in a decent methodicalmanner. He soon learned, therefore, to take each line as it came; and, indeed, after a short time, his instructor not only ventured to coverthe lines of the two open pages at the same time, but by enlarging theopening in front of his cell, he put it in his pupil's power to go onfrom one line to another without the book being raised; and after thetutor had for a week or two turned the leaf when necessary, the pupilbegan to shew that, if it was not done for him, he could do it forhimself. 

As the time drew on, the patriarch was most anxious to know, but didnot venture to ask, how matters were going on. At length he summonedcourage, and put the question, somewhat indirectly, to Titus; andalthough he received no particulars, yet he could not help feelingcomforted by the cheerful manner in which his affectionate deaconassured him that everything was going on rightly, and that he needhave no fear for the result. 

In the meantime, the sultan, though less anxious, was intenselycurious to see what would come of the matter, and frequently enteredinto conversation on the subject with his physician, who was, onsomewhat different grounds, still more curious than himself. Hissublime highness, however, who could not expect from a Jew muchinformation respecting the secrets and mysteries of the Christians, rather confined the discourse between them to the physiological partof the subject, expressing his wonder--first, that bears should beable to learn to read; and, secondly, that such a capacity was notmore frequently cultivated, asking him, withal, whether he had everhimself heard a bear read? The doctor, in parliamentary fashion, blinked the question; observing that as it was done by secretpractices, and no doubt for wicked purposes, it was best to say aslittle as possible about it. His sublime highness was not altogethersatisfied, but comforted himself with thinking that time would soonthrow light on the matter. 

At length the day arrived when the bear's proficiency was to be put tothe test. The sultan was seated on a divan in his hall of audience;his ministers and officers of state stood on either side; and behindhim knelt his Jewish physician, who assumed that position, because, although he would not have failed, even at the hazard of his life, tobe present, yet he had no strict right to be there; and, moreover, hedid not particularly wish to be seen in the business. All were inbreathless expectation when the Christian procession entered. Thepatriarch walked first, with his crosier in his hand; next came Titus, the tutor, bowed down under the huge lectionary, which he bore uponhis back, secured by leathern straps over his shoulders; then followedTimothy, leading by a chain the carefully-muzzled pupil. Thisprecaution was quite necessary; for, having been kept fastingfour-and-twenty hours, the animal was in no good-humour, and would nothave been so quietly brought in, if it had not been closely followingthe favourite book. But, in fact, the only trouble which Timothy had, was to prevent his eager charge from leaping at the volume while itwas yet on his tutor's back. The procession was closed by a porter, bearing the desk, who, under the direction of Titus, placed it beforethe sultan, at such a distance as would conveniently enable the readerto stand between it and his sublime highness, who might thus see thebook over his favourite's shoulder. Titus himself, thus relieved ofhis burden by its transfer to the desk, went round into the reader'splace, and opened the ample leaves of the lectionary; while, to thegreat amusement of the sultan, Timothy was exerting his energies tothe utmost to keep back the eager pupil. 

'He seems fond of his book, however, ' said the sultan; 'that lookswell. ' And all the circle bowed assent. 

At length, having arranged the volume to his satisfaction, Titusreceived his pupil from the hands of his colleague. The bear stood upmanfully to his task; but it need scarcely be said, he was sadlydisappointed when he found that, unlike itself, the beloved bookcontained no sweets; not a morsel, though the often-travelled, much-licked, and still-besmeared lines retained the well-known scentand savour. He ran his nose over one line after another, all down thefirst page, then down the second, and then somewhat impatiently turnedthe leaf. 

'Well, ' cried the sultan, 'he certainly seems to take a great interestin it himself; and he may understand it perfectly, for aught I know;but I wish he would read aloud. I should like to hear him. Will you beso good as to tell him so?' he added, addressing the patriarch. 

The venerable Mar Yusef was puzzled, and, as people often do when theyare puzzled, he made a bow, but could think of nothing to say. Titus, however, promptly dropped on his knees between the bear and thesultan; and addressing the latter, he said: 'Your sublime highnesswill hear him presently; be pleased to give him a little time. Let himnot be harshly judged, if he is a little timid and shy. This is hisfirst attempt in public. '

As he said this, the deacon saw the twinkle of the Jew's eye over thesultan's shoulder. It was only for a moment, and nobody but Titushimself knew that he had seen it at all, so intently did he seem to beoccupied in comforting and encouraging--perhaps we should sayexciting, his pupil. The bear, however, being disappointed line afterline, and page after page, and only stimulated and irritated by thescent and the slight taste which he could get by thrusting the tip ofhis tongue through his muzzle, began to growl most awfully, as hestill went on mechanically, line after line, and turned the leaveswith increased rapidity and vehemence. This continued for some time, until the pupil was evidently getting into a passion, and the tutorwas growing rather nervous, when the sultan shewed a disposition tospeak, which Titus most thankfully interpreted as an intimation thatthe experiment had been carried far enough. He instantly quieted hispupil, not so much by the order which he gave, as by shewing him ahoney-cake, which nobody else saw, handed the chain to Timothy, andprepared to listen. 

'As I observed before, ' said the sultan, 'he certainly does seem totake a vast interest in it himself; and I daresay he understands it:but as to his elocution, I must say that it seems to me somewhatinarticulate. ' The patriarch was puzzled again, and again he bowed, lower than before. The Jew chuckled, and whispered something in thesultan's ear. But Titus was not disconcerted. Falling again on hisknees, he exclaimed: 'Pardon me, your sublime highness, we considerhim a remarkably good reader, an animal of excellent parts, and apupil who does us great credit. It is true, as your sublime highness'sdiscrimination has observed, that his enunciation, even to those whoknow the language, may have some appearance of indistinctness, becausehe is defective in the vowel-points; but we cannot help it, for allour books are unpointed. In this, which, indeed, we consider a matterof little importance, we do not pretend to compete with the Jews, whoteach theirs from pointed books. If your sublime highness ever heard abear read more articulately than this one, it must have been one oftheirs; and if you would have your own perfected in that particular, you must put it into their hands. ' The sultan stared at the deacon;and the Jew eyed him over the sultan's shoulder with fierce alarm. Butthe hands of Titus were folded on his breast, and his head was boweddown on his hands. 

'Well, ' said the sultan to the patriarch, after a pause, during whichit was obvious that some things were passing through his mind, ofwhich he said nothing, 'I thank you for the pains you have taken; andalthough I cannot say that I quite understand the matter now, yet if Ihad known six weeks ago as much as I do at present, I would not havetroubled you. If you are ever in want of any help or protection, remember, as I shall, that you have obliged me. '

The patriarch bowed. The sultan rose and retired, resolved that hisfirst business should be to come to a full explanation with hisdoctor; and accordingly, a summons for the Israelite was instantlyissued. Very long it seemed to the sultan--although, in fact, it wasonly half an hour--before the vizier came to report, that the doctorwas nowhere to be found. 

'Well, ' said the sultan, 'I do not much wonder at that. I alwaysthought him a wise man, and he is certainly no fool to get out of theway now. But, at the same time, let strict search be made; and alsobring me the chief rabbi. '

In the confusion occasioned by the breaking up of the company, thetutor and his pupil--the latter of whom had naturally dropped into theless ostentatious posture of a quadruped--were forgotten, or at leastoverlooked, by the crowd of courtiers, who rushed to congratulate MarYusef, or laid their heads together, to whisper their surprise ortheir suspicions. Titus, therefore, having briefly given directions toTimothy to take care that the book was removed, and to see thepatriarch home, and make an excuse for his staying behind, slippedwith his amiable charge through a side-door into the garden, where heseated himself on a bench, while his companion stood opposite to himon his hind legs, looking wistfully, he almost thought reproachfully, in his face. In truth, Titus was conscious that he had tried thetemper of his pupil, and was afraid to let him loose before company, or, indeed, to let him go into company at all, until he should havebrought him into good-humour. He had provided himself with ample meansof doing this; and having produced more than one honey-cake, andseveral other good things, and laid them on the bench beside him, hedid not hesitate to unmuzzle his friend, and a merry meal they madetogether. 

If the master was rendered happy by the issue of an experiment whichhad been matter of such great and long anxiety, the pupil was alsoraised to a state of the highest possible good-humour, by being atonce relieved from restraint and hunger. He looked cheerily about him;seemed as if for the first time he recognised his old haunts; gamboledthrough the now deserted hall and passages; and, before he had beenmissed by anybody, found his way, by a short cut, to his own rug inthe sultan's apartment. 

For a moment, indeed, while occupied in anticipating the explanationwhich he had resolved to extort from his doctor, the sultan, like hiscourtiers, had forgotten his favourite; but now the meeting was mostcordial on both sides. The sultan seemed determined to make up for hisneglect; and the favourite to shew, that neither scholarship, nor thediscipline requisite for obtaining it, had diminished his socialaffections or companionable qualities. 

At length the rabbi arrived. He had, indeed, been a little longer thanwas necessary on the way, because he had found some means ofpersuading the messenger to let him call on two or three friends as hecame along. He did not lose much time by this, however; his onlyobject being to ask them, to what extent they could help him in casethe loan should be very large. Satisfied on this point, andpreoccupied by the thoughts which had suggested the inquiry, he stoodbefore the sultan. Great, therefore, was his surprise, when hissublime highness, instead of saying a word about money-matters, briefly, but clearly, explained to him the nature of the business inwhich his service was required. 

'Your sublime highness is pleased to jest with your servant, ' said therabbi, as soon as he could command breath enough to utter the words. 

'Not at all, ' replied the sultan; 'you will find me quite in earnest, I assure you. He reads, and, I am told, reads as well as can beexpected _without_ the points; now you must teach him to read _with_them. '

The rabbi was utterly confounded. He could only bow down his head, wondering what the sultan could mean, and what he would say next, andwhether it would throw any light on what he had said already. So hissublime highness continued, with some asperity: 'Do not think todeceive me. I know all about the matter. You _can_ do it, and you hadbetter not hesitate; for I am in no humour to be trifled with. I gavethe Christians six weeks, and I'll give you the same. Don't answer, but go, and he shall be sent to you. '

The unhappy rabbi returned home in a state of bewilderment. He sentfor some of his friends to consult with, most of whom were as muchsurprised as he had been, when they learned the nature of the businesswhich had produced the summons. Only one of them, who happened to be afriend of the missing doctor, seemed to know anything about thematter; and he could not throw much light upon it. He could only tellthem, for their comfort, that it was a very serious affair, and theymust mind what they were about. 

It would be only tiresome, if it were possible, to particularise allthe suggestions and discussions which ensued. They were still going onwhen the bear arrived, and was duly installed in an apartment whichhad been prepared for him, as well as it could be on such shortnotice; for all agreed, that he must be treated with great care andattention, not only in order to propitiate him, but because it mightbe dangerous to let him return in worse condition than he came. Soneither trouble nor cost was spared to make him comfortable; and verycomfortable he was: supplied with every luxury, crammed with dainties, and petted in every conceivable way. But whatever progress he mightmake in the study of mankind, and in other branches of usefulknowledge, it was plain that he was making none in that particularbranch of learning for which he had been sent to school. Hisinstructors did not know how to deal with him. He was on easy termswith all about him, would play with anybody, and quarrelled withnobody; but learn he would not. When they held a book before him, hethrust his nose into the cream-bowl; when they spoke of Pathach andSegol, he shut one eye, and munched figs; and when, 'as a bird eachfond endearment tries, ' they set up a stave which might have made thevery learned the Masorites to dance for joy, in the hope thatinstinctively, or by mere love of imitation, he might be led to joinin the chorus, he only threw himself on his back, and fairly roaredthem down. 

Sensible of all this, and of its probable consequences, theinstructors had not been idle in another direction. They had usedtheir utmost endeavours to learn how the pupil had been dealt with byhis former tutor. But all their inquiries were fruitless. Titus hadkept his secret so effectually, that even Timothy knew little, ifanything, more than other people; or, in other words, more than hadbeen transacted before the sultan and his court. But in collecting allsuch information as could be gleaned, they were indefatigable, andwere scrupulously careful to imitate everything which had been done, not knowing what hidden virtue there might be in things apparentlytrivial. They provided a great book and a desk; and did, and wereprepared to do, all that, so far as they could learn, had been donebefore. And so matters went on, until the time came for them toproduce their pupil. 

The sultan was led, by various considerations, to think that it wouldbe better to have the examination rather more private than the formerone had been; and, accordingly, at the time appointed, the rabbi andhis companions were brought into his private apartment. They had nohope that the book and desk--which, however, they had taken care toprovide--would be wanted by their pupil; and indeed for some time pasttheir thoughts had been turned from any attempts at instruction, andemployed in framing an apology, in doing which they flatteredthemselves that they had succeeded tolerably well. 

The pupil, who had grown corpulent under his late course of treatment, did not at first raise his lazy, half-shut eyes high enough from theground to see the desk and open book, which were clever imitations, ifnot quite facsimiles of forms deeply impressed on his memory, andcalculated to produce very stimulating recollections. As soon as theycaught his eye, he seemed to be seized with sudden passion, dashed atthe book, and overthrew the whole concern. Fiercely did he thrust hisnose and paws between the leaves, and turn them, and tear them, andtrample them. At length, exhausted by his exertions--to say nothing ofhis having previously had more exercise than usual--he waddled away tohis well-known rug, absolutely declined all invitations either to workor play, and lay there watching the company through his half-shuteyes, in a state of stupid repose, which those who had just watchedhis effervescence did not care to interrupt. 

'Well, ' said the sultan to the rabbi and his friends, 'you are astrange set of people. When I put my bear into your hands, he readfluently, and _con amore_; and all you had to do, was to perfect hisarticulation. Instead of that, you bring him back fat, stupid, andsavage, and so far from reading better, unable to read at all. Itwould serve you right, if I were to hang the whole set of you, andconfiscate all your goods; but I am a merciful man, and will becontent with banishment. '

So an order was immediately issued for banishing the Jews from thedominions of the sultan; and they all made off as fast as they could, not knowing that their own countryman had been at the bottom of all, or having any idea of the explanation which is here laid before thereader. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] This is in substance a tradition still current among those EasternChristians who are 'dwellers in Mesopotamia. '

THE ZODIACAL LIGHT. 

There is a certain degree of satisfaction to the inquiring mind inknowing that, even in these days of aptness for discovering andexplaining everything, there yet remains something to be found out;something to excite speculation and recompense research. Such asubject is the zodiacal light, which, for nearly two centuries past, has at different times occupied the attention of astronomers and otherobservers of celestial phenomena, though it is only of late years thatthe theories concerning it have acquired anything like a precisecharacter. Many ingenious hypotheses have been thrown out, which mayperhaps be accepted as steps towards a true explanation; and whilewaiting the result of further inquiry, we shall endeavour to make ourreaders acquainted with the interesting phenomenon. 

The zodiacal light is a peculiar brightness, pyramidal or wedge-likein form, seen at certain periods of the year in the eastern or westernsky, before sunrise and after sunset. Its direction is in the line ofthe zodiac, whence its name--not perpendicular to the horizon, but ata varying angle, being in the spring from 60 to 70 degrees. The baseof the wedge, which has a breadth generally of from 10 to 12 degrees, is below, and the sides rise in a line, curving outwards, to the apex, but so vague and diffuse as to be frequently indefinable. In ourlatitudes, it is best seen at or just after the equinoxes; beforesunrise in autumn, and after sunset in spring; and becomes invisibleas twilight increases, or if the moon shines; the light even of Venusand Jupiter is sufficient to render its discovery difficult. It isbrightest at the base, and grows fainter the further it stretches fromthe horizon, vanishing entirely at the point. Unpractised observerswould be apt to overlook it altogether, and those accustomed to watchthe heavens are at times obliged to fix one eye on a dark space ofsky, while they search for the light with the other, and discover itonly by the contrast. A stratum of black cloud resting on the horizonoften affords a means of detection, as the light can then be seenshooting from it with comparative distinctness. The soft, clearatmosphere which usually precedes or follows rain, is very favourableto a view of the light. 

The luminous wedge varies in length with the progress of the seasons:sometimes but little more than its point is visible; at others, it isseen extending over a space of 120 degrees. Astronomically speaking, the axis of the zodiacal light is said to lie in the plane of thesolar equator, with an angle of more than 7 degrees to the ecliptic, which it consequently intersects, the points of intersection becomingits nodes, and these nodes are the parts through which the earthpasses in March and September. The light travels forward along thezodiacal signs from Gemini to Cancer and Leo from August to November, keeping pace with the sun. It grows dim towards the end of November, and fades more and more until January; but while this decrease hasbeen going on in the east, and in the morning, the light has presenteditself with increasing brightness in the west, and in the evening, andpursues its course until the end of February at about the same rate ofmotion. In March, it is slow, and travels through not more than onesign, and fades in April, and is lost in May, to reappear again at theend of summer, and perform the same route. 

Lengthened twilight is not favourable to the appearance of thezodiacal light; it can, therefore, be observed successfully in thetemperate latitudes only by patient and long-continued watching. Butin tropical regions, the deep azure of the sky, and the brieftwilight, give it a distinctness and luminosity never witnessedelsewhere. In Egypt, we are told it is clearly 'visible every night, except when the light of the moon is too great, from January to June;'and in India its appearance is described as that of 'a pyramid offaint aurora-borealis like light' usually preceding the dawn. Humboldttells us, that he has seen it shine with greater brightness than theMilky Way, from different parts of the coast of South America, andfrom places on the Andes more than 13, 000 feet above the sea-level. 

'Those who have dwelt long, ' he writes, 'in the zone of palms, mustretain a pleasing remembrance of the mild radiance of this phenomenon, which, rising pyramidally, illumines a portion of the unvarying lengthof the tropical nights. ' And once, during a voyage from Lima toMexico, he saw it in greater magnificence than ever before. 'Longnarrow clouds, scattered over the lovely azure of the sky, appearedlow down in the horizon, as if in front of a golden curtain, whilebright varied tints played from time to time on the higher clouds: itseemed a second sunset. Towards that side of the heavens, the lightdiffused appeared almost to equal that of the moon in her firstquarter. '

The zodiacal light can hardly fail of having been observed byastronomers in the past ages of the world; but the earliest knownmention of it occurs in the _Britannia Baconica_, published byChildrey in 1661. The writer says: 'There is another thing which Irecommend to the observation of mathematical men--which is, that inFebruary, and for a little before and a little after that month--as Ihave observed for several years together--about six in the evening, when the twilight hath almost deserted the horizon, you shall see aplainly discernible way of the twilight, striking up towards thePleiads, and seeming almost to touch them. It is so observed any clearnight, but it is best _illæ nocte_. There is no such way to beobserved at any other time of the year. But what the cause of it innature should be, I cannot yet imagine, but leave it to furtherinquiry. ' The further inquiry followed soon afterwards, for Cassini, the eminent French astronomer, having carefully observed thephenomenon from 1683 to 1688, communicated the results to the Académiedes Sciences. Some of his views and determinations were well founded;and from them we gather that the zodiacal light was nearly or quitethe same in his day as at present. Others also devoted considerableattention to it, and noticed the variations in brightness in differentyears, which subsequent observations have verified. Since then, it hasbeen made more or less a subject of investigation by modernastronomers, and has been observed in many parts of the world; thefirst observations in the southern hemisphere being those made byProfessor Smyth at the Cape of Good Hope, from 1843 to 1845. In thatlatitude, the zodiacal light is best seen in spring evenings, at anangle of 30 degrees, visible long after sunset; its opposite peak isdiscernible at daybreak, but has scarcely come into view before therising sun overpowers it. In autumn, the reverse takes place; the bestappearance is in the morning. 

To understand what is meant by the 'opposite peak, ' we are to regardthe zodiacal light, of which we see only one end in our latitudes, asa body extending all round the sun in the same form, presenting at adistance the appearance of one of those flat elongated oval nebulæseen in the heavens. Its direction is at right angles to that of thesun's rotation, a straight line drawn from either pole of the greatluminary divides it in the centre. From its outline resembling that ofa lens in section, it is frequently described as a 'cosmical body oflenticular form. '

From this account of what the zodiacal light appears to be, we proceedto consider what it is. Some inquirers--arguing from the 'nebulartheory, ' which assumes the formation of the several planets, one afteranother, from nebulous matter--have supposed the zodiacal light to bea remnant of that matter yet unconcentrated. In this view, it may be anebula, brightest in the centre, as is the case with most, and faintertowards the margin. According to Humboldt, 'we may with greatprobability attribute the zodiacal light to the existence of anextremely oblate ring of nebulous matter, revolving freely in spacebetween the orbits of Venus and Mars. ' On several occasions hewitnessed its fluctuations, night after night, from the plains ofSouth America, shewing itself at times greatly collapsed or condensed, with intermittences of vividness and faintness, in the course of a fewminutes, as is observed of the aurora. The light of the stars, of eventhe fifth or sixth magnitudes, can be seen through it: the same hasbeen remarked of comets; and it is known also that the tails of cometsundergo frequent flashings or pulsations, so that the two phenomenamay be analogous in character. It is necessary, however, todistinguish the fluctuations from such effects as may be produced bymovements in the lower strata of the atmosphere. 

Mairan, who wrote in 1731, was of opinion that the zodiacal lightconsisted of particles thrown off from the sun by its rapid rotation, or a species of atmosphere peculiar to the central orb. Others havesupposed the luminosity to be composed of 'revolving planetaryparticles, ' shining by a direct or reflected light. But, according toProfessor Olmsted, of Yale College, Massachusetts, it is somethingwhich has a motion of its own around the sun, notwithstanding that thegeneral steadiness of its movements had warranted the notion that itwas in some way attached to the body of the sun itself. Olmsted'sconclusions are drawn from a diligent observation of the light duringa period of six years, and are on this account, as well as from hisscientific reputation, entitled to respect. He states the light to be, in constitution, colour, and density, similar to that of the tail of acomet, the portion nearest the sun being brightest, and both admittingof stars being seen through them. We may, therefore, infer it to be anebulous ring surrounding the sun, in the same way that themagnificent rings of Saturn surround that planet. Of such nebulæ asthis there are from 2000 to 3000 visible in the regions of space, compared with which the dimension of ours is insignificant: at thesame distance, and sought for with the same instruments, it would beinvisible. 

In one point, Professor Olmsted's views are particularly interesting, as, out of one mysterious phenomenon, he endeavours to explainanother, and inquires: 'Whether or not the zodiacal light is theorigin of the meteoric showers of November and August, and especiallythose of November?' Many readers know that for some years past greatnumbers of falling-stars, or showers of meteors, have been observedperiodically in November: the fall seen in the United States in1834--when, as is estimated, more than 240, 000 stars fell as thick assnow-flakes, in the space of nine hours--being the most remarkablehitherto known. The explanation is, that the zodiacal light is anebulous body revolving round the sun, and arrives at its aphelion onthe 13th November in that part of the earth's orbit which the earththen reaches, and, coming into contact with our atmosphere, portionsof the nebulous matter are detached, and, taking fire as they passthrough, appear to us as shooting-stars. This explanation of thephenomenon in question is one not hastily conceived; the reasoning onwhich it is founded is altogether satisfactory, as well with regard tothe movement of the nebulous matter, as to that of the earth. 

Professor Olmsted, in a communication addressed to the 'AmericanAssociation for the Advancement of Science, ' sums up his views asfollows:

'1. The zodiacal light, as we have found, in our inquiry into itsnature and constitution, is a _nebulous body_. 

'2. It has a revolution round the sun. 

'3. It reaches beyond and _lies over the earth's orbit_ at the time ofthe November meteors, and makes but a small angle with the ecliptic. 

'4. Like the nebulous body, its periodic time is commensurable withthat of the earth, so as to perform a certain whole number ofrevolutions while the earth performs one, and thus to complete thecycle in one year, at the end of which the zodiacal light and theearth return to the same relative position in space. This necessarilyfollows from the fact, that at the same season of the year it occupiesthe same position one year with another, and the same now as whenCassini made his observations nearly 170 years ago. 

'5. In the meteoric showers of November, _the meteors are actuallyseen to come from the extreme portions of the zodiacal light_, orrather a little beyond the visible portions. '

There is much that is suggestive in this summary, and, as we said atthe commencement, the subject is one of a nature to stimulate inquiryand research, and to lead to further explanations of cosmicalphenomena. M. Mathieson's observations, published in the _ComptesRendus_ of the Académie des Sciences for 1843, shew, that when testedwith the thermo-multiplier, the zodiacal light was found to radiateheat as well as light--a fact which, if further verified, will supportthe evidence in favour of an independent luminous ring. 

WHO WROTE SHAKSPEARE?

Thus asks Mrs Kitty in _High Life Below Stairs_, to which his Grace myLord Duke gravely replies: 'Ben Jonson. ' 'O no, ' quoth my Lady Bab:'Shakspeare was written by one Mr Finis, for I saw his name at the endof the book!' and this passes off as an excellent joke, and neverfails to elicit the applause of the audience; but still the questionremains unanswered: Who wrote Shakspeare? a question, we humbly think, which might be made the theme for as much critical sagacity, pertinacity, and pugnacity, as the almost equally interestingquestion, who wrote Homer? In the former case, the question iscertainly in one respect more simple, for the recognised plays andpoems that go by Shakspeare's name are--at least by far the largerportion--unquestionably from one and the same pen; while Homer, poor, dear, awful, august, much-abused shade! has been torn by a pack ofGerman wolves into fragments, which it puzzles the lore and researchof Grote and Muir to patch together again. Even Mr Grote seemsdisposed to admit, that while the _Odyssey_ may pass muster as onecontinuous poem, whatever was the name of the author, the greater_Iliad_ must be broken up at least into an _Iliad_ and an _Achilleid_, by different rhapsodists; and though Colonel Muir stands stoutly onthe other side, the restoration of the unity of Homer may, even withus sober-minded thinkers, take ten times the years it took to captureTroy; while with the German Mystics and Mythists, the controversy maylast till they have to open their bewildered and bewildering eyes uponthe realities of another world. 

So far, therefore, the question is limited, for we are entitled toassume, what no one at this time of day dreams of disputing, that_Hamlet_ and his fellows are not only the productions of one mind, butare beyond comparison the greatest productions which man's intellect, not divinely inspired, has yet achieved. The question thereforeis--who wrote them? With the exception of Homer, who lived before thetime of written history, and Junius, who purposely and successfullyshrouded himself in obscurity, there has, perhaps, been no greatwriter who has not in his life, his letters, or his sayings, more orless identified himself with the productions of his pen. Take WalterScott, for instance; or Byron, or Addison, or Dryden; or, to go stillearlier, take Ben Jonson, or Kit Marlowe, or Geoffrey Chaucer, andeach and all of them have external marks by which we could assign theauthorship, even if the production had been published anonymously. TryShakspeare's plays by the same test, and suppose _Hamlet_, _Macbeth_, &c. , had been successively published after the fashion of Junius, andwhat critic of any age would ever have ascribed them to WilliamShakspeare?

This may appear uncandid and unfair. It may be said, that Shakspearelived in a time when letter-writing and letter-preserving werecomparatively infrequent, and that we have no right to deprive him ofhis authorship, any more than we should have had to deprive Dr Johnsonof _Rasselas_, if he had not had the good-fortune of a Boswell torecord his sayings. So we humbly think it would, had Shakspeare, likeHomer, been wholly unknown, and every record of him lost; we shouldthen, as in the case of Homer, have judged exclusively from theinternal evidence of the works themselves, and formed a brilliantideal picture of what the astonishing author must have been in hisdaily walk, correspondence, and conversation. But, unfortunately, enthusiasm worked up to its pitch, sweeping the clouds for abird's-eye view of the high pinnacle of human greatness commensuratewith the 'local habitation and the name' of such a genius, is at once'cabined, cribbed, confined, ' by the authentic recorded whatabouts, whenabouts, and whereabouts of William Shakspeare, actor, owner, purchaser, and chattels and messuage devisor whilom of the GlobeTheatre, Surrey-side; item of the Blackfriars, Fleet Street; andultimately of Stratford-on-Avon, '_gent_, ' husband of Anne Hathaway, to whom he devises his second-best bed. On the one hand, research hastraced his life from the cradle to the grave, and by means oftradition, legal documents, records, and inscriptions, formed a veryaccurate skeleton biography; while, on the other hand, with the singleexception of Ben Jonson, to be noticed hereafter, records and eventradition are silent upon his walk and conversation; and though hissignature has been several times disinterred, his wholecorrespondence, if he ever wrote a letter, has sunk like lead beneaththe dark waters of oblivion; indeed, even the single signature as yetdiscovered unconnected with business documents--namely, the 'WillmeShakspere' on the volume of Montaigne--is not preceded by any remarkwhatever, by any sentence that might give a faint echo of _Hamlet_. Now this, to say the least, is singular to the very last degree. Theunsurpassed brilliancy of the writer throws not one single spark tomake noticeable the quiet uniform mediocrity of the man. Is it moredifficult to suppose that Shakspeare was not the author of the poetryascribed to him, than to account for the fact, that there is nothingin the recorded or traditionary life of Shakspeare which in any wayconnects the poet with the man? It will not do to use the commonhackneyed expression, that Shakspeare had a 'genius so essentiallydramatic, that all other writers the world has seen have neverapproached him in his power of going out of himself. ' Even theinspired writers of Scripture have their style and their expressionsmodified, and adapted to the peculiar idiosyncrasy and accidentalposition of the respective men; and taking human nature as we find it, we think it much easier to suppose that Shakspeare never once appearspersonally in his dramas, because his interest in them was notpersonal, but pecuniary. William Shakspeare, the man, wascomparatively well known. He was born in Stratford-on-Avon, ofrespectable parentage; he married Anne Hathaway; had children;apparently became unsettled; went to London to push his fortune; madea deal of money by theatrical speculations, and by the profits ofcertain plays, of which he was reputed to be the author; then retiredquietly to the country, and was heard of no more, excepting that a fewyears afterwards old Aubrey states that 'Shakspeare, Drayton, and BenJonson had a merry-meeting, and, it seems, drank too hard, forShakspeare died of a fever there contracted. ' Brandish not thy dagger, Melpomene, at this profanation! The scandal is not ours, but Aubrey's, Shakspeare's earliest biographer, but who did not write till forty-sixyears after his death. His name and signature are connected with thebuying and selling of land and theatrical shares, and such-likecommonplace transactions; and his last will and testament, with whicheverybody is familiar, is as plain and prosaic as if it had been theproduction of a pig-headed prerogative lawyer. Now, in all this we seea sensible, sagacious, cautious, persevering man, who certainly wasfree from the rashness and (excepting the closing scene, if old Aubreyis to be believed) rakish extravagance too often characteristic ofgenius at any time, and perhaps particularly so of Shakspeare's time. It is apparent that Shakspeare, at least from the time the playscommenced, never had to shift for his living: he had always money tolend and money to spend; and we know also, that many of hiscontemporaries, men with genius akin to that which produced theseplays, were in continued and utter extremity, willing to barterexertion, name, and fame, for the daily dole that gets the dailydinner. 

May not William Shakspeare--the cautious, calculating man, careless offame, and intent only on money-making--have found, in some furthestgarret overlooking the 'silent highway' of the Thames, some pale, wasted student, with a brow as ample and lofty as his own, who hadwritten the _Wars of the Roses_, and who, with eyes of genius gleamingthrough despair, was about, like Chatterton, to spend his last coppercoin upon some cheap and speedy means of death? What was to hinderWilliam Shakspeare from reading, appreciating, and purchasing thesedramas, and thereafter keeping his poet, as Mrs Packwood did? The merecircumstance of his assuming them as his own, may have seemed to bejustified by his position as manager, and his regard to the interestsof the theatre; as a play by a well-known and respected favouritewould be more likely to escape hissing than one by an unknownadventurer; and the practice once commenced must go on; for we cannotsuppose that Shakspeare could afford to deny the authorship of_Macbeth_, if he had previously consented to father _Henry VI. _, _TheTwo Gentlemen of Verona_, and the _Midsummer Night's Dream_. Thisassumption, we are sorry to say, smooths away many of the difficultiesthat have hitherto baffled the critics. How could Shakspeare, saythey, have been able to write at all, while obviously and laboriouslyemployed in the active business of his profession? Where did heacquire that all-comprehensive knowledge of nature, men, and books?How could he paint with such exact fidelity the peculiar scenerypertaining exclusively to the subject in question, when he can beproved never to have left London? What time had he to tread the'blasted heath, ' or describe the aspect of Glammis Castle? How couldhe accomplish all this? Why, simply, and naturally, and easily--byaffording his poet all the requisite leisure, and defraying theexpenses of all the requisite tours. And with this view, though itcannot be proved, and is very unlikely, that Shakspeare ever was inScotland, yet it is most likely that the author of _Macbeth_ was; andthus the intelligence, but not the genius, of these wonderful worksceases to be supernatural. Again, not one single manuscript ofShakspeare's plays or poems has ever been discovered; and certainlythe search has been as rigorous and continuous as that for thePhilosopher's Stone; while even Scott, when owning to the Novels, found it necessary to say that almost all the manuscripts wereholograph; nor, if we do not very much mistake, is there among all therecords and traditions which have been handed to us, any statement ofShakspeare having been seen writing, or having delivered hismanuscript. 

Of course, the obvious answer to all this is, that such a transaction, carried on through so many years, and having reference to works whicheven in that age excited considerable admiration and attention, couldnot be concealed. We may reply to this, that Shakspeare, whoapparently was liked by every one, did not conceal it from hisfriends, and that they supported him in this pardonableassumption--the members of the theatre for their own sakes, and hisother friends for his. 

Take, besides, the custom of the age, the helter-skelter way in whichdramas were got up, sometimes by half-a-dozen authors at once, of whomone occasionally monopolised the fame; and the unscrupulous manner inwhich booksellers appropriated any popular name of the day, andaffixed it to their publications; and who so popular with allplaygoers of the period as the gentle, well-living Shakspeare? And hisname would better suit his friends and the then public, than any mererecluse, unknown poet, until his name, like other myths, acquiredsanctity by age. Indeed, we fear it is not necessary to go back toShakspeare's time to find the practice of assumed authorship ofpurchased plays, without either the reasons or the excuses which applyto Shakspeare. Unfortunately, however, for those who claim Shakspearefor Shakspeare, the secret was not wholly kept. Robert Greene, awell-known contemporary, a writer of reputation, but one who led theskeldering life peculiar to most of his class, addressed, on hisdeath-bed, in 1592, a warning to his co-mates not to trust to thepuppets 'that speak from our mouths. ' He then goes on in theseremarkable words, which we believe every critic thinks were intendedfor Shakspeare: 'Yes, trust them not; for there is an upstart crowbeautified with our feathers, that, with his tiger's heart wrapt in aplayer's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blankverse as the best of you; and, being an absolute _Johannes Factotum_, is in his own conceit the only _Shake-scene_ in a country. ' Again:with this view, the disputed passages--those in which critics haveagreed that the genius is found wanting--the meretricious ornamentssometimes crowded in--the occasional bad taste displayed--in short, all the imperfections discernible and disputable in these mightydramas, are reconcilable with their being the interpolations ofShakspeare himself on his poet's works. 

The dedication of the _Venus_ and the _Lucrece_ to Lord Southamptonis, we confess, somewhat against us, for we cannot but think thesepoems came from the pen that wrote _Romeo_; but, after all, Southampton was so generous a patron, that Shakspeare might be excusedin assuming the authorship, in order to make the books (as his poems)a better return for the thousand pounds bestowed. But if Southamptonreally knew him to be the author of the dramas, how comes it thatRaleigh, Spenser, and even Bacon--all with genius so thoroughlykindred to the author of _Hamlet_--have all ignored his acquaintance?Raleigh and Bacon seem not to have known of his existence; whileSpenser, if he alludes to the works, takes care to avoid the name. Inshort, Heywood, Suckling, Hales, and all the others who are recordedto have spoken of Shakspeare 'with great admiration, ' confinethemselves to the works, and seem personally to avoid the man--alwaysexcepting '_Rare Ben Jonson_;' and we confess, if Ben is to beentirely believed, Shakspeare wrote Shakspeare. But Ben, ifunsupported, is somewhat disqualified from being what the Scotch wouldcall a 'famous witness'--he was under the deepest pecuniaryobligations to Shakspeare, and was through life, despite thenonsensical tradition of their quarrel, his hearty friend andboon-companion, with 'blind affection, ' as he phrases it, as seenabove, literally 'unto death, ' and therefore bound by the strongestties to keep his secret, if secret there were. Besides, Ben can beconvicted of at least one unqualified fib on the subject. Hear how hedescribes Droeshout's print of Shakspeare, prefixed to the first folioedition of 1623:

 This figure that thou here see'st put, It was for gentle Shakspeare cut, Wherein the graver had a strife With nature to outdo the life. Oh! could he have but drawn his wit As well in brass, as he hath hit His face, &c. 

Hear now Nathan Drake: 'The wretched engraving thus undeservedlyeulogised;' and Mr Steevens calls it 'Shakspeare's countenancedeformed by Droeshout'--like the sign of Sir Roger turned into theSaracen's Head. 

We might, did space allow, also allude to the celebrated 'wit-combatsat the Mermaid, ' where Shakspeare's wit, when recorded, becomes trulyun-Shakspearian. Let one example suffice, stated by Capell. 'Ben' and'Bill' propose a joint epitaph. Ben begins:

 'Here lies Ben Jonson, Who was once one--'

Shakspeare concludes:

 'That, while he lived, was a _slow_ thing; And now, being dead, is a _no_-thing. '

We doubt if Benedict would have gained Beatrice had he wooed her inthis style, and yet its tiny sparkle seems a beam of light contrastedwith the dull darkness of the rest. In fine, we maintain we have nomore direct evidence to shew that Shakspeare wrote Hamlet's soliloquy, than we have that he wrote the epitaph on John a Coombe, the ballad onSir Thomas Lucy, or the epitaph to spare his 'bones' on his owntombstone--all of which the commentators are now determined torepudiate. 

Assuming, then, that we have proved, to our own extremedissatisfaction, the probability that Shakspeare kept a poet, we arebound to say that the intercourse between them must have been one ofalmost unexampled cordiality and kindness; for seldom can we discoveranything like hostility in the poet to his employer; but there musthave been two little miffs--one of which occurred during the writingof the _Midsummer Night's Dream_, and the other before the publicationof the _Twelfth Night_. Shakspeare, it is well known, in very earlyyouth, married a girl a good deal older than himself, and there is atleast no evidence to shew that, as usual, he did not repent hischoice. Now, we will admit that it was unhandsome in the poet at thebeginning of the _Dream_ to make Hermia and Lysander discourse uponthis delicate subject--

 _Hermia. _ O cross! too high to be enthralled to low!

 _Lysander. _ Or else misgraffèd in respect of years. 

 _Her. _ (_the lady. _) O spite! too old to be engaged to young!

But matters were still worse, when the Duke, in the _Twelfth Night_, exclaims:

 'Too old, by Heaven! Let still the woman take An elder than herself. '

And again:

 'Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent; For women are as roses, whose fair flower Being once displayed, doth fall that very hour. '

It is, we confess, very difficult to suppose that Shakspeare, with hisunquestionable good feeling, could have written this unhandsome insultto his own wife, though it is very easy to imagine his passing it overin a hurried perusal previous to its presentation in the green-room. 

One thing at least appears certain, and not disputed--the playsapparently rise, if we may use the expression, as the series goes on;all at once, Shakspeare, with a fortune, leaves London, and the supplyceases. Is this compatible with such a genius thus culminating, on anyother supposition than the death of the poet and the survival of theemployer?

Well, reader, how like you our hypothesis? We confess we do not likeit ourselves; but we humbly think it is at least as plausible as mostof what is contained in the many bulky volumes written to connect theman, William Shakspeare, with the poet of _Hamlet_. We repeat, thereis nothing recorded in his everyday life that connects the two, exceptthe simple fact of his selling the poems and realising the proceeds, and their being afterwards published with his name attached; and thestatements of Ben Jonson, which, however, are quite compatible withhis being in the secret. In fact, the only other hypothesis which wethink will serve at all, is to suppose that Shakspeare, like Mohammed, instead of going to a garret, went to a cave, and received his _Koran_from Gabriel; but then the mischief is, that Shakspeare is the mostreadable of authors, and the _Koran_, perhaps the most unreadabletrash ever inflicted on a student--at least its translation is; andbesides, no angel of them all could ever have shewn such anacquaintance with our (to a celestial) unkindred humanity as thesepoems display. Perhaps the best and crowning hypothesis is that ofByron about Junius:

 That what we Shakspeare call, Was really, truly, nobody at all. 

Thus, whether Shakspeare were written by nobody or not, it seemspretty well proved that _nobody gave_ the plays to Shakspeare; sothat, whether by inheritance, _purchase_, or divine afflatus, the manwho wrote Shakspeare was--William Shakspeare. 

A NIGHT ON THE MOUNTAINS OF JAMAICA. 

For persons who have never visited the tropics to form an idea of theexceeding beauty of night in these regions, is utterly impossible. Theazure depth of the sky, illuminated by numberless stars of wondrousbrilliancy, seems, as it were, reflected in the giant foliage of thetrees, and on the dewy herbage of the mountainsides, gemmed with thescintillations of innumerable fire-flies; while the gentle night-wind, rustling through the lofty plantain and feathery cocoa-nut, bears uponits breath a world of rich and balmy odours. Perhaps the scene isstill more lovely when the pale moon flings down her rays on thechalice of the _Datura arborea_, brimming with nectareous dew--her ownmost favoured flower, delicate of scent and chaste in beauty. Yet thenight of the tropics has many drawbacks: noxious, unsightly creaturesthen forsake their lair, lithe snakes uncoil their glossy rings, batsflutter in the moonbeams, and croaking frogs disturb the silence ofthe hour. 

In a valley of the St Andrew Mountains, in the island of Jamaica, where we resided for a short time, we beheld in perfection this lovelynight, and experienced in an equally great degree its inconveniences. It was indeed a favoured spot, for which nature had done her utmost. Sublime and beautiful were there so exquisitely blended, that todetermine the leading characteristic of the scenery was impossible. Mountains, clad to the loftiest summit in perpetual verdure; gigantictrees, rich in blushing fruits; pensile plants, aglow with thechoicest flowers; proud-rifted rocks, pale and ghastly, as if cleft byan earthquake; foaming cascades springing madly down the cliffs, leaping through chasms spanned with aquatic creepers, and thendwindling into ever-gurgling streams, that glided through ravinescurtained with verdant drapery--such were some of the details of thepicture; but how vain the endeavour to describe this redundant beauty!A friend, who enjoyed it with a zest as keen as our own, onceremarked: 'It is like nothing in this world but one of Salvator Rosa'spictures framed in a garland of flowers!'

This gorgeous scenery screened from our dwelling the unsightly squalorof a negro village, which lay at a distance of a mile and a half onthe other side of an abrupt hill to our rear. It consisted merely ofsome score of huts, of miserable aspect, formed of matting, stretchedon stakes stuck in the ground; and in other cases, of interwovenbamboos, dabbed with mud, and roofed over with gigantic palm-leaves. Each had its garden in front, of yams, cocos, and sweet potatoes. Thenegroes of the village were our nearest neighbours, and we visitedthem occasionally, in the hope of ameliorating their condition bycommunicating to them such instruction as they were capable ofreceiving; but their grotesque ideas of liberty, overweening egotism, and marvellous superstition, together with the shortness of our stayin their vicinity, combined to frustrate our object. 

The place we occupied had been once a missionary station, andconsisted merely of a couple of chambers, a sitting-room, and averanda that ran round the house, which was built of an inferiorspecies of mahogany, and ceiled and floored with the same. The colourof the wood, together with the fact, that all the former occupants hadfallen victims to the climate, gave the house an air of extraordinarygloom; still, this was in some measure dissipated by the multitude offlowers in the garden, of the kinds familiar to us in England, andwhich, from the equable temperature of the mountain climate, flourished in the open air. 

Before the windows flashed a bright parterre, begirt with a thickhedge of salvias, above which the exquisite humming-bird for everhovered. The hedge was intermingled with the tea-rose, white jasmine, fuchsia, pink cactus, and bignonia; all of which, from the hardihoodof their growth, appeared indigenous. Balsams sprung like weeds, andevery conceivable variety of convolvulus flaunted in gay bands fromthe shafts of ever-blossoming limes. Along the veranda, extending fromcolumn to column, ran a drapery of nurandias, lobeas, and plumbago;while at the end of the parterre, in close proximity, stretched thegrave-yard of the station, studded thick with white stones, recordingthe names of many a once weary missionary and Christianised negro. 

About a month after our arrival at Rosevale--for so was the placecalled--my husband was compelled by professional duty to be absent fora couple of days. It was the first time I had ever been left alone, having been only recently married, and separated from my family inEngland. An utter stranger in the island, my nerves were somewhatsubdued at the prospect before me; and although determined to endurethe loneliness very bravely, still it was not felt the less acutely. There were no Europeans nearer than a distance of five miles; andowing to the peculiar nature of the scenery, its extraordinarystillness, and the unusual aspect of its gigantic vegetation, it was, despite its beauty, invested to a remarkable degree with an air ofdesolateness and solitude. At five in the morning, my husband set outupon his journey, and at eight a negro came to inquire whether massawas at home. This was an unusual circumstance; but upon hearing thatmassa left home that morning, he departed, and I thought no more ofhim. The weary day dragged heavily to a close, and at eight in theevening the same negro returned, and repeated his inquiry by the lightof a lamp held by a young lad of his own race in our service. I sawthe man's face, and suffering, perhaps, from nervous irritability, fancied I had never seen a countenance more sinister. My pulsethrobbed quickly, as the reply was given, that 'Massa wouldn't returntill the night of the ensuing day. ' Here was an admission! I alone inthis wild, outlandish place, attended only by my maid, a semi-German, semi-Irish girl, exceedingly timid, and a couple of negro servants, ifpossible more cowardly: I felt my heart sink, as after uttering somehalf-intelligible words, the sable visitor departed. While drinkingtea in solitude, musing on the old familiar faces of my former home, never was the croaking of the frog so loud, the curlo's note soshrill, the evening air so gentle. I heard the negro servants withoutexpressing their astonishment that, now as massa was gone, missuswouldn't call in Miss Jane (the maid), and make her 'peak' to her;adding--'Rosevale not good house to lib by himself in--plenty "padres"die dere, plenty doppies (ghosts) come up dere from de grabe-yard!'Now my dread was not of the 'doppies, ' but I did fear the return ofthe recent ill-favoured visitor. 

Our books had not yet been forwarded from Kingston, so I had not thesolace of a favourite author; but on a shelf in the sitting-room layan odd volume of Missionary Reports, and the third or fourth ofMandeville's English History, which had belonged to the formeroccupant of the place. These I took from their resting-place, andessayed to read, when, in an instant, a bat dropped from the rafters, and fluttering round and round the lamp, cut short my studies. Formerly, church-service was wont to be celebrated in this same room;and for the purpose of kindling, by means of music, any latent sparksof devotion in the minds of his sable flock, the deceased clergyman, who had resided before us at Rosevale, had imported a seraphine, whichhe played with skill, and which had never been opened since his death. It stood as he had last touched it, at one end of the sitting-room;and hoping to overcome my nervousness, I strove against the feelingswhich had hitherto withheld me from approaching the instrument. Iseated myself before it, and began a sacred melody, when, by theimperfect light, it seemed as if the keys were in motion. This I atfirst attributed to the manner in which the light was thrown, owing tothe wheeling flight of some four or five bats that had joined theearliest intruder in his frolics. This idea, however, was speedilydissipated by a great cockroach crawling upon my fingers, and Istarted up with a shudder, for the instrument was literally coveredwith these unsightly creatures. I then paced up and down the veranda, flooded with moonlight, till a short time past ten o'clock, when themoon set, and I retired for the night to my chamber, where myuneasiness was speedily overcome by sleep. 

At midnight, or probably earlier, I awoke with a start: unusual soundswere on the air; and the sinister visage of the past evening's visitorpresented itself to my disturbed imagination. I stilled my heart, andlistened. The sounds seemed to come from the negro village. I sprangfrom my bed, and, approaching the window, unclosed the jalousie, andsaw a number of negroes pouring down the mountain-side--some bearinglarge torches, and all yelling fearfully. On streamed the living mass;closer and closer they approached, till their faces were distinctlyvisible. They carried with them a hideous burden--a swathed andghastly corpse, the rigid features of which looked ghastlier still inthe lurid glare of the torch-light! This they flung, with franticgestures, from one to another, receiving it in their arms with a yelland a scream, gibbering in fiendish glee, and dancing and whirlingabout. Sickening at the horrid sight, I turned away, and closed thejalousie; when, as the procession surrounded the house, my maid rushedinto the room, exclaiming: 'O ma'am, what will become of us? they aretrying to force the doors--they are coming in!'

For some time they continued seeking an entrance; but the thought ofadmitting them never once crossed my imagination. At last, one amongthe number suggested the inutility of any further attempt; and, abandoning their original design, they all marched off to thegrave-yard, where they remained till dawn as it seemed in some grandcarousal. They then, as I was afterwards told, returned to thedwelling of the deceased, laid him in his coffin, and at six in themorning bore him to his last resting-place. This ceremonial was called'The Feast of the Dead, ' and was celebrated in order to insure afavourable reception for their departed brother from the moulderingoccupants of the grave-yard, and to prevent the appearance of hisdoppie. 

The deceased, it seems, had been a carpenter, and in that capacity hadworked occasionally at Rosevale, which, a few days previously to ourarrival, had been the scene of his last labours. It was thoughtnecessary, therefore, for the repose of his soul, that, prior tointerment, his body should be brought into the house to pay a farewellvisit. 

A fellow-passenger in our voyage to Kingston related to us a similaroccurrence. He had been but a short time resident at Montego Bay, andwas, with his wife, active in disseminating Christian knowledge amongthe negroes of the district. One family, more intelligent than therest, particularly attracted this good lady, who was much interestedin their behalf, in return for which, they attached themselves to hermost zealously. Their eldest child, a young girl of fourteen yearsold, was attacked by a malady, which suddenly terminated in death; andMrs R---- was ignorant of the fact, till one evening, as she wasentertaining company, the corpse of the poor girl, dressed in thelatest gifts she had bestowed, was borne into the midst of the party, to take leave of the kind benefactress, so beloved by her in life. 

The dread in which the appearance of disembodied spirits is held bythe negroes is excessive, and the expedients to which they resort todefend themselves from their intrusion are truly absurd. One of theseis to drive ten nails into the door in a pentagonal form--a veryeffectual barrier; for the doppie, on beholding it, can neitheradvance nor recede, but remains there literally spell-bound till thewitching-time of night is past, vainly endeavouring to reckon thenumber of nails, but unable to get beyond the fifth. Another veryexcellent preventive, in negro estimation, is old leather--that whichhas been worn in boots or shoes is considered best. This should beburned with horse-litter, and afterwards rubbed upon the door-posts. 'This, ' to quote one of the dusky fraternity, 'make such a bad mell, that it catch him nose; and de berry Jurabie himself would run awayfrom it!' I know not the extent of Satanic endurance, but for a meremortal to bear with it is impossible, as I once found by experience, when it compelled me to take refuge in the bush. 

NATIONAL PROSPERITY AND INDIVIDUAL PANIC. 

The _London Gazette_, of the 3d July 1852, announced, in its weeklyreport of the Bank of England, that the gold coin and bullion in theissue department had reached the sum of L. 21, 742, 110. It had neverreached such a sum before. But this is not all. While this vast amountof gold already lies in the vaults of the Bank, nearly every ship fromAustralia, and steamer from America, brings more of the preciousmetal. 

There are not wanting persons to whom this accession of treasure tothe country is a subject of panic. The annuitant dreads a depreciationof the value of gold, equivalent, of course, to a general rise in theprice of those commodities which conduce to his comfort; or, in otherwords, to a diminution of his income. The millionaire sees rivalsspringing up on all sides from the mountain of gold. Many in everyclass, who are at ease in their circumstances, and would fain havethings remain as they are, look with dislike on a state of things sonew, and wish that the 'diggings' in California, and the gold regionof Australia, had never been disturbed by spade or pickaxe. 

If gold were not our standard of value, no such panic could exist inany mind; but, on the contrary, the abundance of a metal sopre-eminent in beauty and utility must be universally hailed as aboon. Silver is now the legal tender in most countries of Europe, andused to be so in England, till it became too abundant; but wheretransactions are large, silver is too cumbrous: a man can carry L. 500in gold in his pocket, but L. 500 in silver would require a horse. 

The reason why these two metals form the money of the most civilisednations, need not be gone into here at any length. 'Their qualities ofutility, beauty, and _scarcity_, ' says Adam Smith, 'are the originalfoundation of the high price of those metals, or of the great quantityof other goods for which they can everywhere be exchanged. This valuewas antecedent to, and independent of, their being employed as coin, and was the quality which fitted them for that employment. '

We have printed the word _scarcity_ in italics, because that is thepoint of alarm. 'If, ' say the alarmists, 'gold, which has been in allthe world's annals scarce, is to become plentiful, one of theconditions of its fitness for coin is annihilated. ' To this we reply:Scarcity is a relative term. Actual scarcity of a commodity may exist, to all practical purposes, in the midst of an abundance of thatcommodity; because scarcity is occasioned by two very differentcauses--namely, limited supply and excessive demand. 

An amount of gold coin which would be very large for a smallcommunity, might be very insignificant for the use of a great andpopulous nation. In August 1789, the bullion in the Bank of Englandamounted only to L. 8, 645, 860; but we think that was a larger sum forthe Bank to possess, in relation to the population and trade ofEngland at that period, than L. 22, 000, 000 now. 

In 1801, the population of Great Britain numbered about from ten toeleven millions; in 1851, nearly twenty millions. Whatever quantity ofmoney, therefore, was necessary for the former period, a very muchlarger, perhaps a double quantity--supposing an equal degree ofprosperity to exist--would be requisite in the latter. 

This necessity for a larger amount of coin is obvious when regardedonly in relation to the increase of population. If populationcontinues at its present rate of increase, a much larger amount ofcoin than we possess now, even with our L. 22, 000, 000 of bullion in theBank, will be required to keep pace with its wants. But this is notthe only view of the question. The population of 1851, it must begranted, required a larger amount of coin than that of 1801, or of anyformer period in our history, supposing each period to possess anequal amount of prosperity. But how stand the facts on this questionof prosperity? If it should appear that, while more gold isdiscovered, more iron, more tin, more copper, more of every othermineral is also found; that more wool and cotton are produced, morecorn is grown, more ships built, more houses built, more towns raised, more countries inhabited, and last, not least, that railways begin tointersect every country, old and new, and in combination withsteam-ships on the ocean, to facilitate the communication among themall--then it would appear that they required a larger amount inproportion to the population; and that if prosperity continues on theincrease, so constantly progressive will be the necessity for morecoin, that scarcity will be a term applicable to gold, in allprobability, for a long period of time. 

The fact is, that the increase of commodities has been, in manyinstances, far greater than the increase of population. In 1740, thetotal quantity of iron made in Great Britain was 17, 350 tons; in thefollowing hundred years, this quantity increased considerably morethan a hundredfold, being estimated at the later period at above2, 000, 000 tons. In 1801, the Cornish tin-mines produced 2328 tons ofmetal; it took only thirty years to double their annual amount. Thesame is more than true of the copper-mines of Cornwall, which producedin 1801, 5267 tons; and after thirty years, 11, 224 tons. In 1828, thequantity of sheep's wool imported from Australia was 1, 574, 186 lbs. ;in 1850, it was 39, 018, 228 lbs. In 1801, the coals shipped fromNewcastle were 1, 331, 870 tons; in fifty years more thandouble--namely, 2, 977, 385 tons. These are only a few examples gleanedfrom many of a similar description, and to them we will only add thefact, of a kind totally new in the world's annals, that a sumapproaching to a moiety of the national debt is now invested inrailways in England alone--namely, upwards of L. 350, 000, 000. 

By a late police report, it appears that 60, 000 houses have been addedto the metropolis of England in the last ten years. These would aloneform a large city, requiring much gold and silver for money andluxury; and in this question of gold, the requisitions of luxury mustnot be forgotten; they form an important item, and are commensuratewith the necessity for coin. 

'When, ' said Adam Smith, 'the wealth of any country increases, whenthe annual produce of its labour becomes gradually greater andgreater, a quantity of coin becomes necessary, in order to circulate agreater quantity of commodities; and the people as they can afford it, as they have more commodities to give for it, will naturally purchasea greater and greater quantity of plate. The quantity of their coinwill increase from necessity, the quantity of their plate from vanityand ostentation, or from the same reason that the quantity of finestatues, pictures, and of every other luxury and curiosity, is likelyto increase among them. But as statuaries and painters are not likelyto be worse rewarded in times of wealth and prosperity than in timesof poverty and depression, so gold and silver are not likely to beworse paid for. '

It may, indeed, be predicted with tolerable certainty, that thequalities of 'beauty and utility' possessed by gold will be for a longtime guarantees for its 'scarcity' whatever be its abundance. Its finecolour and brilliancy are not its only beauties. No metal is soductile, so malleable, so indestructible by fire or chemical tests. Itdoes not rust, it scarcely tarnishes, and it admits of the mostexquisite workmanship. India alone would absorb the results of manyyears' digging; and when direct steam communication commences betweenit and Australia, gold will begin to flow into that great country, with its hundred million of people, in one continued stream, to supplytheir insatiable desire for it. They habitually invest their savingsin gold ornaments, which they wear on their persons; and at this day, it is not uncommon to see the wife of a native under-secretary, whosesalary and property altogether do not amount to much more than L. 300 ayear, wearing gold in this manner to the value of L. 500. The treasureof this kind possessed by the rich natives is probably extraordinary;and so great is their desire to accumulate it, that it is impossibleto keep up a gold-currency in the country: the coin is immediatelymelted down, and made into ornaments. 

But whatever amount of gold is absolutely required at present as acirculating medium, and whatever amount is likely to be absorbed bythe requirements of luxury, an amount far greater is likely to beneeded to keep pace with the increasing prospects of prosperity inthis country. Now that the restrictions on trade are nearly allremoved, Britain may become the centre of the world's commerce:situated as she is in a temperate climate, between the Old and the NewWorld, her harbours never closed by ice, there is nothing to limit theextent of her markets, nothing to check the development of herresources, nor the division of her labour. The extraordinary impetusgiven to emigration by the discovery of the gold-fields, has alreadybegun to create new and great countries; and every emigrant thatleaves our shores becomes a source of wealth and strength to themother-country, which has cast off the fetters that so long restrainedits enterprise, and is open to trade with all the world; while thediscovery of rich coal-mines in most parts of the globe, favours thecommunication by steam-power between both hemispheres, and almost frompole to pole; and while we hear of new discoveries that may make theair a motive power instead of steam, and thus render railway transitpossible in arid deserts; and while the electric telegraph not onlyconnects us with the continent of Europe, but is about to cross theAtlantic. With all these powers at command, men will not long beconfined to the narrow boundaries in which they are at presentcongregated; and in comparison with future improvements in everybranch of industry, the present time may come to be regarded as onewhen they were bunglers in industrial art, and mere scratchers of thesoil instead of cultivators. 

And not the least important among the elements of national prosperity, will be found an abundance of the circulating medium. ''Tis certain, 'says Hume, 'that since the discovery of the mines in America, industryhas increased in all the nations of Europe, except in the possessorsof those mines; and this may justly be ascribed, amongst otherreasons, to the increase of gold and silver. Accordingly, we find thatin every kingdom into which money begins to flow in greater abundancethan formerly, everything takes a new face--labour and industry gainlife; the merchant becomes more enterprising; the manufacturer morediligent and skilful; and even the farmer follows his plough withgreater alacrity and attention. '

The exception of Spain alone is a curious example and warning tonations, as shewing how the best gifts may be abused and convertedinto a curse instead of a blessing; for, believing the possession ofgold and silver to be the only true wealth, they attempted toaccumulate these metals by preventing the exportation of them byabsurd restrictions; and this policy, added to her bigotry andpersecution, has left Spain to this day an example of the results ofrestriction, powerless and poor, a haunt of the robber and thesmuggler. 

An abundance of the circulating medium will always be found to be animportant element in national prosperity; and so great has been theconviction of this fact, that a whole school of political economistshave advocated a paper-currency, in order to escape from the danger ofrestriction. 'Give us, ' say they, 'paper-money, the basis of whichshall be, not this scarce, restrictive gold, but the real wealth ofthe country in commodities of every kind. ' It was Sir Robert Peel whoexplained the danger of these views, by shewing that paper-notesissued against commodities would tend to increase the fluctuations ofthe prices of those commodities. By the act of 1819, therefore, heestablished that a pound sterling, or the standard, by reference towhich the value of every other commodity is ascertained, and everycontract fulfilled, should be itself fixed to be a piece of gold of acertain weight and fineness, and that whatever paper-notes wereissued, the holder should be entitled to demand standard coined goldin exchange for them at the Bank, at the rate of L. 3, 17s. 10-1/2d. Ofnotes per ounce. Undertaking always to pay in coin when demanded, theBank was allowed to use its own discretion in the amount of notes itmight issue. Such discretion, however, was found to work badly, forthe trading community in particular; and therefore, by the act of1844, the issue of bank-notes was limited to the certain amount ofL. 14, 000, 000 against securities; and it was enacted that any furtherissue must vary with and be equal to the amount of bullion depositedin the coffers of the Bank. The reason why L. 14, 000, 000 in notesagainst securities was the sum fixed on, was partly that this was thesmallest sum that had been known to be in the hands of the public fora very long period; and it is probable that numbers of these noteswill never appear again, so many being perpetually lost by fires, shipwrecks, or carelessness. However, it is said, that only the otherday a bank-note was presented for payment, bearing the date of 1750. 

'To what end, ' it is sometimes argued--'since even the advocates ofgold-currency resort to paper-money as more convenient for practicalpurposes--is the accumulation of treasure in the vaults of the Bank ofEngland? Why, after all the labour of digging it out of the earth inthe antipodes, is it buried again here? Why not coin it, and lend itout at interest?' The remark is, of course, not unnatural, but has aready reply. The gold in the vaults of the Bank of England belongs, not to the Bank, but to the holders of the bank-notes. They prefernotes to gold to carry in their pockets, but these rags of notes haveno value in themselves; their sole value is as representatives of acertain portion of gold. People cannot have notes and the goldrepresented by the notes at the same time: they may have either thatthey like. If they prefer to have gold spoons, or gold candlesticks, or gold watches, or gold anything else; or if, as traders, theyrequire to make purchases in any parts of the world where their noteswould not pass current, or where those from whom they buy do notrequire any commodity manufactured in this country, then they can havetheir gold at the Bank any day by presenting their notes. As, moreover, the holder of every bank-note has an equal claim, _protanto_, on the bullion in the Bank coffers, the more gold there is inthem, the more will his note represent. In short, the act of 1844, above alluded to, established the security of the Bank-of-England-notein a way that seems perfect. 

On the whole, therefore, it appears that a condition requisite tonational prosperity is in prospect for our country. Individualexceptions there may be in the persons of annuitants, but even herecounteracting circumstances are continually at work. By improvementsin machinery, and facility of communication, the cost of production isso much reduced as, in a greater or lesser degree, to balance the riseof price consequent on an abundance of gold, should any such conditionof things actually occur; and an abundance of gold would undoubtedly, as we have shewn, be favourable to all these improvements. Already, the cost of production, or small amount of labour with whichcommodities can be produced, compared with former periods, is animportant fact in all questions of income. The quantity of cottonwool, for example, taken for consumption in the United Kingdom in1814, was 53, 777, 802 lbs. , and in 1849 was 775, 469, 008 lbs. ; but itsvalue, which in 1814 was L. 20, 033, 132, had only increased in 1849 toL. 26, 771, 432: so that fifteen times the quantity at the latter periodcost only about a third more money than the much smaller quantity inthe former. The price of cotton-yarn was 8s. 9d. Per lb. In 1801, andonly 2s. 11d. In 1832, owing to improved machinery. Such examplesmight be multiplied, and would increase in accelerated ratio in timesof increased prosperity. Other compensations would not be wanting. Ifthe actual income of an annuitant should be lowered, his taxes wouldbe lightened, his poor-rates perhaps abolished, his sons and daughtersable to find openings in every direction. He would not be called onfor charity; he might become enterprising and successful like hisneighbours. It is scarcely possible that individual adversity shouldlong co-exist with national prosperity. 

A period may indeed arrive, discoveries may be in store, which mayrender a change in the standard of value an absolute necessity. Such aperiod, however, must be remote, and must be met by wise legislationas it gradually approaches. Meanwhile, we see nothing to stop thedevelopment of our resources, nor the increase of our wealth, so longas we use our good gifts and do not abuse them. 

FRENCH COTTAGE COOKERY. 

CONCLUDING ARTICLE. [2]

It may be gathered from the two former papers, that I am not inaffluent circumstances; the intimation, therefore, that four distantrelations, occupying a sufficiently high position in society, intendedto dine with me, was received with a feeling the reverse ofpleasurable, both by myself and my single servant. The dining-room andits table were so very small, that I never gave even family dinners. Rose had no idea of waiting; and, moreover, to cook and wait at oneand the same time, is by no means an easy task for any one. I couldnot bear the idea of hired waiters and cooks, and the attendant noise, fuss, and expense. What was to be done? I thought over my dinner, butthere was no room to place it on my small table, and the apartmentwould not hold a larger one conveniently. Rose could cook two dishesvery well for my solitary self, but how were her unpractised powersequal to sending up a dinner for five persons, two of them men! Itnever struck me that Madame Miau could help me in this particulardilemma; nevertheless, as I wished to consult her about a sauce, Iunconsciously unfolded my cause of annoyance. 

'I see no difficulty at all, ' said the worthy widow; 'and if you willonly let me manage for you, I will answer for its all succeeding _àmerveille_; but it must be _à la Française_. '

'But the fish?'

'Oh, your fish shall come first; _soyez tranquille_. '

'Anything you please, then, ' answered I, gaining comfort from hereasy, confident manner. I resolved to follow her instructionsfaithfully; for I was persuaded somehow that, whether she managed wellor ill, her plan would probably be better than mine, and the resultshewed I was right. 

In the middle of the table, fresh flowers in a valuable china bowl didduty as an epergne; port and sherry--the only wines I would, or, indeed, could present--stood at each corner; and round the bowl thelittle dessert, tastefully decorated with leaves, looked well, although consisting only of common dried fruits, preserved ginger, oranges, and cakes. But the plate was bright, the crystal clear, thetable-cloth and napkins of the finest damask, and there was abundanceof room for sauces, glasses, plates, and all the little things wemight happen to require. As the company consisted of my privatefriends, not inhabitants of our town, Madame Miau herself--attired ina Bolognaise cap, long gold earrings, cross, fluted lace tucker up toher collar bones, and black silk gown--condescended to wait upon andcarve for us. She had each dish and its proper accompaniments broughtby Rose to the side-table, where all was neatly divided into portions, and handed round, one dish at a time, hot from the fire. We had, first, ox-tail soup; second, fried soles; third, oyster _patés_;fourth, Maintenon cutlets and cauliflower; fifth, roast lamb andpotato-ribbons; sixth, pheasant, with both bread-sauce and toast. Tartlets and creams followed, and a cream-cheese finished the repast;then we were left to our dessert and conversation, the latter of whichwe soon resolved to terminate with our coffee in the drawing-room, where a purer atmosphere awaited us. All went off quietly andcomfortably; no noise, no bustle, no asking will you have this orthat; everything was brought round without questioning, andconversation was never for an instant interrupted. My fastidiouscousin, Jack Falconbridge; his foolish fine-lady sister; hercommon-place lord; and her 'talented and travelled friend, ' MissScribbleton, expressed themselves equally pleased, although there wasnothing _recherché_, nothing expensive, nothing extraordinary. At therich Mr Goldscamp's, where they had dined the day before, things were, they all agreed, very far inferior. Five or six inexperienced youngfootmen jostled against each other, whilst rushing about with saucesand condiments; the table groaned under a gorgeous display of plate, and loads of unnecessary glass and china. 

'I was, ' said Miss Scribbleton, 'really quite afraid to move, lest Ishould overturn or break something, and felt like a bull in achina-shop. '

'The cookery, ' continued the Honourable John, 'was atrocious;everything half cold, and we rose hungry, to partake of watery coffeeand lukewarm tea. '

'Ah!' sighed his sister, 'I was bored to extinction by everything andevery person. ' And then followed compliments to me upon my littleunpretending entertainment, which I felt were sincere, for everythingwas good of its kind, and I presented nothing that Rose could not cookperfectly under Madame Miau's directions, except the soup and _patés_, which the pastry-cook supplied--all was hot, and all was quiet. 

I have forgotten in the above enumeration the crowning dish of all, the Braousa, which drew down applause from the company; theMayonnaise, in short, which Madame Miau concocted with her own hands. Every one thinks they can make the Mayonnaise sauce, because they findthe ingredients given in various treatises upon cookery; but there isa secret, gastronomic reader, a very simple one; and this small secretI shall now unfold, by which, if you try, you will see that oil, vinegar, and egg, end in a very different result than when the usualmode of mixing them is employed. But ere I enlighten you, let mesuggest to the Mesdames Jones and Thompsons, who will persist ingiving dinners with few servants and small means, that if they adoptthe above plan, they will better content their company, to say nothingof saving their money, than by pursuing the accustomed mode of killingoff their acquaintance--namely, a huge 'feed' dressed by a commoncook, and served by hired waiters, who, scuffling amongst strangeplates and glasses, invariably crack many and break some. 

_A Mayonnaise. _--Beat the yolk of a large quite freshly-laid egg, adding a little salt, with a teaspoonful of lemon juice: use a flatdish and a silver fork, and beat them thoroughly well together. Thentake nearly a pint of the finest Lucca oil, which has been kept wellcorked from the air, and drop _one_ drop. Keep beating the egg all thetime, and add another drop--drop by drop at a time: it will take halfan hour to do, and must be so thick as to require to be lifted by aspoon. Prepare your cold meat, lobster, chicken without skin, veal, orrabbit. Cut all in neat pieces, and set them round the centre of yourdish; then take the very inside hearts of two or three cabbagelettuces, which have been well crisped in cold water, and place themround the meat. Cut two hard-boiled eggs in quarters, and somebeet-root in strips, and place them tastefully, contrasting thecolours. Now, with a spoon cover all with the sauce, laid on thickly, and upon it an anchovy cut in strips. Finish off with a nasturtium atthe top, and also a row all round the outward edge. 

Several days having elapsed since I had seen the friend in need, whohad proved to me a friend indeed so lately, I went to ascertainwhether her unusual exertions of body and mind had not made her ill, but was happy to find her in perfect health, seated at dinner with avery fine gentleman, all curls, compliments, gilt chains, andearrings, whom she introduced as 'Mon neveu Antonio'--the son of herhusband's sister, who had married an Italian, and who, like hisfather, was at once cook and courier. Their dinner consisted of thefollowing _friture_, from M. Antonio's own private recipe-book: Haveready, half-cooked, _1st_, thin slices of calves' liver; _2d_, artichokes cut in half quarters or quarters, according to their size;_3d_, cauliflower--only the _flower_, divided in small pieces; _4th_, calves' brains, previously soaked in salt, vinegar, and water, fortwenty-four hours, cut in little bits: make a light batter, and fryeach separately of a golden brown in the right order, having the dishin which they are to be served on a hot hearth. Cover the dish withthe liver, then the artichoke, then the brains, and, lastly, thecauliflower, each distributed so as to decrease towards the top, whichis covered with a larger sprig of cauliflower. 

Madame Miau fried beautifully, and, under her nephew's directions, tried a pretty dish I had never before heard of--namely, the flower ofthe cucumber-plant, or vegetable mallow--which is usually, and, Ibelieve, incorrectly, called marrow--nipped off with the little fruitattached to it. It was dipped in butter, fried lightly, and servedquite hot. 

Creams are very good, made according to the following simple, inexpensive recipe, which is just enough to fill twelve small cups orglasses. Take good milk sufficient to fill them, and boil it with twoounces of grated chocolate, and six of white sugar; then beat theyolks of six eggs, to which add slowly the chocolate-milk, turningsteadily one way. When quite mixed, pass the whole through a search, fill your cups, and, if you have not a regular _bain-marie_, a flatsauce-pan will do, filled to a proper height, so as not to overtop thecreams, and which must continue boiling a quarter of an hour. For achange, instead of the chocolate, boil the milk with a pod of_vanille_ broken in pieces, or any other flavour you may fancy. 

_Spinach Cream. _--Boil your spinach, and let it thoroughly drain in acullender; then press it through a hair-sieve with a spoon, as forfood. Take the pulp that has been pressed through the sieve, and mixit with cream, or very good milk, and two additional yolks of eggs. Pass the yolks of six eggs through a sieve, add six ounces of whitesugar in powder, and two table-spoonfuls of trebly-distilled orangeflower-water, and, as before mentioned, place the cups in a_bain-marie_ for a quarter of an hour. 

I requested the good-natured nephew to dress me a dish of macaroni, which he did as follows, one of his many modes of preparing it: Heboiled it till just tender, and no more. The English cook it too much, he said. When drained, he grated a sufficient quantity of both Gruyèreand Parmesan cheese, and alternately put upon the dish, firstmacaroni, and then cheese, finishing with the cheese. Over this hepoured strong beef-gravy, in which some tomatoes had been dissolved, and put it a few minutes in the oven, and then a few more before thefire in a Dutch oven; but he preferred a hot hole, and to cover itwith a _four de compagne_, or cover upon which you place hot embers. He also assured me the following sauce was better even than thebeef-gravy:--

_Tomato Sauce. _--Warm your tomatoes until you can skin them; beat thepulp with finely-grated ham, onion, parsley, thyme, salt, and Luccaoil, all as small as possible; pass through a sieve, and pour overyour macaroni. Serve hot. 

Tomatoes are good skinned, the seeds taken out, and with a littlebutter and finely-chopped herbs, beaten into a paste with eggs, andfried in a light batter. 

_Fried Asparagus. _--Do not boil it too much, but enough to cut inpieces and pass through a sieve; mix this with grated ham and Parmesancheese, and with butter make it into a paste of good consistency, which fry in a light batter. Celery is also very nice treated in thesame way. As I like butter, as the French do, without any salt at all, I found much difficulty in keeping quite sweet what a farmerobligingly so prepared for me. Without water, it got bad. Made intopats, and kept in water, it lost flavour; but Madame Miau soon put meupon a plan by which it remained for ten days as if new churned. Assoon as I received my quantum, I had it well washed in spring-water, for sometimes the milk had not been taken clean out of it; and then itwas put down with a spoon in a salad bowl, to which it adhered. Everymorning, fresh water, in which was dissolved a little salt, was pouredupon it, and the top _curled_ off for use with a tea-spoon or a smallshell. To the very last, it was sweet and tasteless; and I considerthis a very valuable hint, in hot weather especially. 

FOOTNOTES:

[2] Nos. 388 and 416. 

AMUSEMENTS FOR THE PEOPLE. 

We have become so accustomed to the idea of a soul-and-body-ruiningintemperance amongst the lower portion of the working-classes, thatonly some startling details connected with it make any greatimpression upon us. Yet it is verily a most awful thing to exist inthe midst of enlightened, advancing England. There are 1300 beer-shopsin the borough of Manchester, besides 200 dram-shops. Thirty-nine percent. Of the beer-shops are annually reported by the police asdisorderly. One dram-shop receives 10, 000 visits weekly. In those ofDeansgate, which are 28 in number, 550 persons, including 235 womenand 36 children, were found at one time on a Saturday night. Many ofthe beer-shops are a haunt of the young of both sexes among thefactory people, 'the majority with faces unwashed and hair uncombed, dancing in their wooden clogs to the music of an organ, violin, orseraphine. '

A considerable number of the public-houses of Manchester have musiccontinually going on as an attraction. Twenty-four such houses areopen on Sunday evenings. Two of them received 5500 visitors per weeklast winter. The most innocent of the favourite haunts of the peopleare casinos, or music-saloons, where multitudes assemble to witnessscenic representations, feats of jugglery, tumbling, &c. Twopence ispaid for admission, and for this the value is given in refreshments, most frequently consisting of ginger-beer. These places arecomparatively innocent, but still are far from being what is requiredin that respect. [3]

It is a tremendous problem--how are we to give _innocent_ amusement tothe people? Perhaps there is none of our day more momentous. We trythe lecture, and win an audience of units out of the thousands whom weseek to benefit. The reading-room, with penny cups of coffee, holdsout its modest charms, and does much good, but still leaves the massesas it finds them. Something else is wanted, but it is difficult to saywhat it should be. Perhaps some clever person will hit upon it byintuition, or some ordinary one by accident, and so solve the problem. Perhaps it will be left to the philosopher to consider the humannature of the case, and divine what should be done. We can imagine himsaying something like this: 'Man is a creature that requires novelty, variety, and excitement. He cannot be kept at duty continually; hemust have pleasure too. He cannot be always at work on the real; hedemands the ideal also. Even in the course of exertions which herelishes as conducing to his material interests, he every now and thenrequires a change of scene and of occupation. Something to divert themind from its ordinary series of ideas--something to enable us to loseourselves in a temporary illusion, were it only a jocular suppositionof our being something a good deal worse than we are--something, aboveall, to stir the hearty laugh, which proves its being good for us bythe very help it gives to digestion--is required at frequentintervals--all free from what tends to debase and corrupt. Such is thetheory of Amusement; and nothing which does not fulfil that theorywill be effective for its ends. Here is a perquisition somewhat morestartling than that of Xerxes, putting a prize upon a new pleasure. Happy will be the man who can devise truly available means ofsupplying this grand want in our Work-World! It is plainly for want ofsome such device that the public-house thrives, and that human natureis seen in such unlovely forms amongst the lower circles of society. '

It occurs to us, that there can be no social want which society itselfis not competent to satisfy. In the variety of the human faculties, there are some which immediately tend to give pleasure and amusement, and certain men possess these in a greater degree than others. The_troubadour_, the _jongleur_, and the _joculator_, are naturalproductions of all time, in a certain proportion to the bulk of theirkind. Accordingly, all through the various grades of society, we findclever people, exhibiting a gift for music, for mirth-making, fornarration, and for dramatic effect. In the upper circles, thesevoluntary and unprofessional powers form the main dependence for theamusement of the evening. In the inferior walks of life, they arecomparatively lost for want of a fair field to work in: they only finda vulgar and unworthy outlet in the coarse scenes of the tavern. Suppose we address ourselves to making arrangements by which humblesociety could be enabled to take advantage of the powers of amusementwhich lie within itself?

We can pretend to nothing like a scheme, and perhaps so much thebetter. We can imagine, however, that in certain circumstances, thedesideratum could be tolerably well supplied without much outlay orformality. We have coffee and reading rooms already. Say that to suchan institution, we add a music and conversation room; this, as abeginning. There, when the newspaper or book had ceased to charm, leta group assemble, and, according as there might be power present, enjoy itself with a tune, a song, a chorus, a recital, an elocutionaryreading, a debate on some question, or a scene from a play. Presumingthat the house is under the care of an honest, well-meaning person, there could be little fear of impropriety of any kind as resultingfrom such amusements. The amateur spirit guarantees plenty of suchvolunteer effort. Let it simply be understood, as in ordinary society, that each should do his best to promote the hilarity of the evening. If a single room succeeded, let two be tried--one for conversationalone, or for such games as cards and draughts (under strictregulation, to prevent any beyond nominal stakes); while the otherserved for music, and other entertainments not inferring silence. Inthe long-run, there might be further additions, allowing rooms formutual instruction in various arts and accomplishments, sheds andcourts for out-of-doors amusements, and so on. 

If such establishments were ever to reach a public character, underwhat regulation should they be placed? We have no suggestion to make;but we embrace and maintain the principle, that the more they wereunderstood to be under the protection of the public opinion of theclass for whose benefit they are designed, the better. The patronisingpuritanism of another class would ruin everything. Let the otherclasses, if called on to assist, agree to view all that went on with acertain liberality of judgment, remembering that, although there maybe some little possibilities of abuse, the whole project is, afterall, an alternative from something infinitely worse; and in a faircourse, improvement is to be expected. It is one unfortunatenecessity of the case, that a very small abuse in a system under aresponsible administration, makes a great scandal against theadministration itself; the public not reflecting, that thatadministration may be all the time tending to the repression, not thepromotion of such abuses: hence the difficulty of getting responsibleadministrations in such cases at all. These, however, are difficultiesto be struggled with, not given way to. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The facts here adduced are from a recent contribution of Dr J. W. Hudson to the _Manchester Examiner_. 

CORINNA AT THE CAPITOL. 

BY MARIE J. EWEN. 

 There were footsteps on the Corso in the morning twilight gray, And gatherings in the Forum ere the rosy blush of day; Loud voices round the Capitol, and on the marble stair, A breathless crowd assembled, as for a triumph there. 

 The chimes of San Giovanni, how merrily they ring! As if to all the city a soul of joy to bring: There's noise of many chariots, and sounds of trampling feet, Of horses with their trappings gay, and minstrels in the street. 

 And the balconies, what mean they with their tapestry so fine? And why are garlands wreathed around the arch of Constantine? What mean those banners streaming bright o'er tower and glittering dome, Ye ladies fair and gentlemen, that throng the streets of Rome?

 It is a day of triumph, and the brightest of its kind; The victory of genius and the mastership of mind; Corinna, the pride of Italy, descends the flower-wreathed way, For at the proud old Capitol she will be crowned to-day. 

 Right nobly prance her snow-white steeds; behold the chariot come! Room, room for her, the star of all! ye citizens of Rome. Off with your hats, brave gentlemen! for genius is divine, And never hath she made her home in such a lovely shrine. 

 She comes! the fair Corinna comes! 'mid thunders of acclaim, That rush unto the lips of all at the murmur of her name. Scatter sweet roses all around; fling perfumes to the air; And strew her path with all that breathes of beautiful and fair. 

 Her car hath gained the Capitol--her foot is on the stair; She stands a form of matchless grace, the queen of thousands there. Bring forth the wreath that threw afresh a lustre round his name, Whose genius burned, a vestal fire, with never-dying flame. 

 Whose vision pierced the mantling mists that circle round the tomb, Where bitter groans resound for aye amid the starless gloom; Who saw the cities of the blest, and with as fearless tread Paced through the ebon halls of hell, the mansions of the dead. 

 The crown that might have cast a ray to light lone Tasso's gloom, But only drooped, a funeral wreath, to wither on his tomb; Ay, reach it down, that laurel crown, it never hath been given To one more rich in beauty's grace, and all the gifts of Heaven. 

 Oh, it is grand, a nation's love! a people's benison, The homage of ten thousand hearts flung at the feet of one; The rapturous glow that fires the soul, and thrills through every frame, At the mention of the worshipped one, the echo of her name. 

 Corinna at the Capitol! Oh, what a spell comes o'er me, As I view the gorgeous pageantry that passeth now before me; But I would I knew the meaning of the tears which like a stream In pearly drops are shining through the rapture of her dream. 

 Though laurel wreaths surround her brow, and glory lights her name, There is a chamber in her heart can ne'er be filled by fame; Lonely, amid adoring crowds, she deems, as well she may, The faithful love of _one_ true heart were better worth than they. 

 And when the crowd is parted, and the festival is o'er, The many voices silent, and the music heard no more; She will think upon the triumph, the splendour that is gone, As the shadow of a dream, or the echo of a tone!

GOING AHEAD. 

The reading of your paper on 'Railway Communication, ' has given megreat pleasure: your remarks about American railways are very well inthe main, but the speed of travel is misstated, as it ranges fromforty to fifty miles an hour; unless it be an omnibus railway, likethe Haarlem, where they stop for passengers every few hundred yards. The Hudson River Railway, which passes by our mill at Yonkers, almostfrightens my brother out of his wits by its speed, and he takes thesteam-boat now to avoid it. The trains go very fast, but it is asuperb road, and very safe, as the servants of the company, with theirflags and lanterns, line the road the whole distance. They have twentytrains a day. The Erie Railway is also finished from New York to LakeErie; the traffic on this line is immense, freight often lying twoweeks before it can be put through. Its income is over three and ahalf million dollars. We have only one class of passengers, exceptemigrant trains: the fare generally ranges from a cent and a quarterto two cents a mile--on some of the shorter roads, as high as three orfour cents. All the carriages are lined with mahogany and silk plush. The locomotives on our long roads weigh from twenty to forty tons. Thefact is, that anything said about our physical development on datacollected at any one period, is quite likely to be false or absurdwithin a twelvemonth. Though in the midst of it, and not one of theexcitable kind, I am often astonished at it myself. I have severaltimes mentioned that you would hardly know New York, or find any ofyour old landmarks; and yet New York would be comparatively a meancity, if you took away what had been built within a year. Steam-shipsshew another phase of it: three years ago, we hardly had the shadow ofone; now--and I have looked into the matter very carefully--I wouldnot, as a commercial speculation merely, exchange forty of the best ofour steam-ships for any other forty in the world: of course I don'trefer to war-steamers. Some of the California steam-ships are perfectpictures in model, and put the Collins' Line into the shade. By theway, did you ever notice their passenger-list?--from 300 to 600 at atrip; and one vessel last year took 1125 passengers, paying verynearly half her cost in a single trip. In the summer, they slept aboutthe decks like ants in a hill. A good education, including a collegeone to those who have the proper capacity, is open to every poor childin this city, free of cost. The immense sums necessary to pay for allthis, are voted by the people themselves out of their ownpocket. --_Private Letter from New York. _

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