minion which Lady Hamilton, the modern Theodora, exercised by her charms.

- Her only name was Emma, for her father remained always unknown. She was one of the children of love, of crime, of mystery, whom nature delights to overwhelm with gifts in compensation for the loss of hereditary claims. Her mother was a poor farmer's servant in the county of Chester. Whether she had lost her husband by death, or, like Hagar, had been abandoned by her seducer, she arrived unknown and reduced to beggary, at a village in Wales, the Switzerland of England. She carried in her arms a female infant of a few months old. The beauty of both attracted the simple mountaineers of the village of Hawarden; the stranger picked up a livelihood by working for the farmers and gleaning in the fields. The marked and noble features of the child served to propagate the rumor that her birth was illustrious and mysterious; she was said to be a daughter of Lord Halifax. Nothing afterwards, either in her fortune or education, gave color to the report. At the age of twelve she was received in a neighboring family as children's servant. The frequent visits of her master and mistress to London, where they resided in the house of their relative, the celebrated engraver, Boydell, gave her the first idea of the impression her figure produced on the crowd in public places, and a vague presentiment of the high fortune to which her beauty would exalt her. At sixteen she made her escape from Hawarden, a field too obscure and circumscribed for her expanded dreams, and engged herself in the household of a respectable trade-man in London. A lady of superior rank, struck by her appearance in the shop, elevated her to a higher position of servitude. Almost without employment in an opulent family, Emma gave herself up to the perusal of those fascinating romances which create an imaginary world for the love or ambition of youthful minds; she frequented the theatres, and imbibed there the first inspirations of the genius of dramatic expression, of action, and attitude, which she embodied afterwards in a new art, when she became the animated statue of beauty and passion.

Being discharged by her mistress for some housebold negligence, her growing taste for the theatre induced her to seek a situation in the family of one of the managers. The irregularity and freedom of that establishment, the constant intercourse with actors, musicians, and dancers, initiated her in the subordinate mechanism of the dramatic art. She was then in the flower of her youth, and the full perfection of ber beauty. Her tall and elegant figure equalled in natural grace the studied attitudes of the most practised figurantes. Her voice was soft, mellow, and pable of expressing deep tragic emotion. Her countenance, endowed with susceptibility as delicate and varying as the first feelings of a virgin mind, was, at the same time, pensive and dazzling. All who saw her at that period of her life agreed in describing ber as a resuscitation of Psyche. Purity of soul, transparent through elegance of feature, surrounded her even in her dependent position with a respect which admiration dared not overleap. She spread fire without being entangled in the flame herself; her innocence found a safeguard even in the excess of her beanty. Her first fall was not a descent to vice, bat a gliding into imprudence arising from a yielding nature.

A young countryman, of the village of Hawarden, son of the farmer who had first given an asylum to her mother, was seized by a press-gang, and carried

fetters to the fleet at anchor in the Thames. Emma, at the entreaty of the prisoner's sister, accompanied her to the captain of the ship to implore the liberation

of her brother. Won by the beauty of the fair suppllant, he listened to her prayers and tears, removed her from her low though honest station, overwhelmed her with shameful luxury, furnished a house for her, supplied her with masters in every ornamental accomplishment, boastfully displayed his conquest in public, and left her, when the squadron sailed, exposed without safeguard to new seductions. One of his friends, bearing a noble name, and possessed of a large fortune, carried off the faithless Emma to an estate in the country, treated her as his wife, made her the queen of hunting partles, fêtes, and balls; and finally, growing tired of her at the end of the season, left her in London, at the mercy of chance, necessity, and crime."

After describing her extraordinary career at length, he draws the curtain from the last scene in these few lines:

"Lady Hamilton, universally reprobated as the instigating cause of Nelson's errors, sank, after his death, into the insignificance from which her personal charins alone had originally elevated her. She fell from the splendor of vice to utter neglect, and from opulence to poverty. Twenty years after the death of the victor of Trafalgar, an unknown female, still preserving the remains of extraordinary beauty, died in a foreign land, in Calais, where, for several years, with reduced means, she had sought an obscure asylum. After her decease, the landlord ascertained from her papers that this impoverished stranger was Lady Hamilton, the widow of an ambassador, the favorite of the Queen of Naples, and the adored mistress of Nelson! She was buried by public charity. Nelson, by naming her in his will, had only bequeathed to her the scandal of his attachment and the indignation of his country."

The life of Nelson is followed by that of Heloise, then comes Christopher Columbus: then Palissy the Potter; then the fabulous hero Roostain, by Madame Lamartine; and then in order Cicero, Jacquard, the inventor of the loom; Joan of Arc, Cromwell, Homer, Göttenberg and Fenelon. The illustrious author intimates that this is the last book he intends to publish, but the announcement we suspect is a ruse to assist his publisher, and is preliminary to more last words. He has grown careless, in his later publications, but we can ill afford to lose his brilliant sentimentalities and idealizations. We prefer, however, that he should dwell upon the Heloises, and the Emma Hamiltons, than upon the Cromwells (whom he cannot comprehend), or better still, to continue the memoirs of his own life.

-The Cossacks of the Bourse, (Les Cozaques de la Bourse) is the seasonable title of a little satirical tale by F. DE GROSSEILLIER, in which he exposes the influence of stock gambling. The hero is a simple-hearted Breton, who is gradually inducted into all the mysteries of Parisian life, from dining at the Madrid in the Bois de Boulogne, to making a splen

did fortune by means of the agens de change. The sketches of character and the incidents are highly amusing.

GERMAN. Our readers may remember an article on a new German speculator called Schopenhauer, which appeared lately in the Westminster Review, but since then, one of his countrymen, M. JULIUS FRAUENSTAEDT, has published a book named Letters on the Philosophy of Schopenhauer (Brisfe uber deo Schopenhauer, sche Philosophie), in which his system appears more at length. We have spoken of him as a new speculator, but he is only new to the public, his first work having appeared as early as 1813, and he having been born in 1788. Mr. Frauenstaedt is a perfect enthusiast in his behalf, speaks of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel as tyros in comparison with him, while he is said to be the only German who is worthy to wear the mantle of Kant. What the peculiarities of his system are, we are not able to say, nor do we suppose one in a thousand readers

cares.

-The Albanian studies of HAHN (Albanesche Studien), who was a consul of Austria in Greece for a number of years, residing principally in the oriental part of the kingdom, where he had an opportunity of acquiring the language and studying the manners of the Albanians, is almost the only good work on the subject that we know. It presents a faithful account of that people, who have so long stubbornly maintained their independence of other nations, just as they are. The Albanians have preserved their originality with as much tenacity as the Basque, the Hungarians, or the Finns; they are energetically characterized by their manners, and though not more than two millions in number, are striking evidences of the force of personality in preserving a people. Mr. Hahn is very learned in tracing out their ethnological origin, contending that they are the descendants of the ancient Macedonians, but the most valuable part of his work relates to their popular poetry, their tales, their legends, their language, their proverbs, and their local traditions.

-A monograph on the Jacobin Club (Der Jakobiner Klub), by J. W. ZinKEISEN, is a contribution to the history of parties and political morals in France during the revolutionary period, of rare value. The first volume was issued a long time since, but the second is more recent, and together they will form, we think, the standard authority on the

Jacobins. The author has availed himself of a long residence in Paris to consult the most authentic documents, and has left none of the recent memoirs unread that threw the least light upon the secret movements of the famous revolutionary society. Unlike most Germans, he writes in a clear and intelligible style, not con fining himself to an industrial detail of events, but filling up a grand general outline with anecdotes, portraits, and other dramatic illustrations.

-VEHSE'S "Memoir of the Court of Prussia" is a collection of historical notices of Prussia during the last century and a half. We take from it the following passage, relating to Frederick William I. as a specimen of the details with which it abounds:

"Frederick William was most outrageously rude and insulting in speaking and writing. The epithets, of villain, rascal, scoundrel,' were constantly on the royal lips. If he was displeased with a report or a petition, he used to draw on the margin asses' heads and ears. The noble ministers, who were used to consider idleness as an aristocratical privilege, he ordered about like a parcel of non-commissioned officers. Any minister who, without leave of the king or the excuse of illness, was one hour too late for the sitting, had to pay a fine of one hundred ducats; if he was absent from the whole sitting he forfeited, in the first instance, the salary of one half year; if the same thing happened a second time, dismissal from office was the unalterable consequence. In his autograph instructions for the General Directorium, he said: The gentlemen are to do the work which we pay them for.'

"One of his valets one evening had to read prayers to him. Arriving at the words 'The Lord bless thee,' the silly man, in bis habitual subserviency, thought he must read, The Lord bless your Majesty;' on which the king at once cut him short-You rascal, read as it is in the book: before God Almighty I am but a rascal like yourself.' The servants were never safe in his presence. He had always two pistols, loaded with salt, lying by his side, which, if they

blundered, he would fire at them. In this manner,

His

one man had his feet dreadfully injured, and another lost an eye; notwithstanding all which, he was quite offended that he should be generally considered a ty⚫ rant. Terror might be said to go before him. A functionary who was once unexpectedly summoned to his presence, fell down dead from fright. cane he applied so unreservedly to every body, that one day he maltreated with it a major in front of his regiment; on which the officer at once drew his pistols, fired one before the feet of the king's horse, and with the other shot himself through the head. One day, the king fell in with his court apothecary, to whom, for a consideration of a thousand dollars, he had granted the title of privy councillor. To the usual royal question, Who are you?' the proud man of the pestle answered. Your royal Majesty's privy councillor, Blank.' Scarcely had he uttered the words, when, with a shower of blows, and a volley of 'rascals and scoundrels,' his royal Majesty was graciously pleased to intimate to him, that in future he was to answer, I am called privy councillor Blank.'

"There never was a more restlessly active man than the king. He was the very type of choleric temper; not the slightest touch of phlegm in him. Being himself so passionately given to busying himself, it came quite natural to him to thrash now and then one of those Berlin lazzaroni, the Eckensteher' (ticket-porters standing at the street corners), if he happene i to see any one idly lounging about. A no less vigorous application of the same gentle persuasion was bestowed upon the lazy keeper of the Potsdam gate; who, having during his morning slumbers made the country people wait outside the gate, was awakened by his Majesty saluting him with his royal cane, and with Good morning, Master Gatekeeper.'

It was a very awkward thing to meet the king in the street Whenever he was struck by the appearance of any one, he rode up to him so closely, that the head of his horse touched the man's chest. Then followed the usual question, Who are you?' Those whom he took for Frenchmen were sure to be stopped by Lim One of them being asked, 'Qui êtes vous?" Very wisely answered in German, 'I do not understant French. Even the French preachers were ste and every time asked whether they had res Motore, as an inuendo that he did not consider tem as much better than comedians. The son of the cerated Beausobre once answered to this More question, Oui, sire, et surtout l'Avare.' Such rely answers pleased the monarch, and fortunate were those who were able to give them. Those, un the other hand, fared worst who tried to fly from him. It happened one day that a Jew, seeing the king at a distance, took to his heels; but being soon overtaken by him, the poor fellow confessed that he had been afraid. The king immediately began to edgel him, with the words, 'Love me, love me you stal, and not fear!""

FINE ARTS.

THE Edinburgh Lectures of Ruskin, on Architecture and Painting, which have been so severely handled in Blackwood, have been republished in New York by John Wiley, and we learn from them, that it will be a long time before the great critic of art will again publish any thing on the subject of architecture. What he intends doing in the meanwhile he gives no hint of, but such an active and belligerent mind must be doing something; and we wish he might be induced to come over here, and lecture to us in the same spirit in which he has been lecturing the good people of Edinburgh. We need his instructions quite as much, and he would find more objects here to exercise his critical faculty than he found in the Northern capital. Two of his lectures were confined to the architecture of that city, and the other two to Turnerism, and Pre-Raphaelitism, and though they do but repeat the principles which are contained in the Seven Lamps and his other writings, yet they so abound in special applications and new examples, that they are full of freshness and novel

ty, even to those who are familiar with his previous publications. Even those who cannot comprehend his radical philosophy of the true aims of art, and of course wholly differ from his conclusions, must still be entertained by his originality of thought, and improved by his vigorous and fearless expression of opinions. He often gives utterance to ideas that are most amusingly absurd to those who are not thoroughly imbued with his principles. In a brief episode in one of his lectures on the meaning of Romance and Utopianism, he names an author whom he accuses of having done more to degrade the human nind and paralyze its divine nature, than any other man who has lived in the tide of time. We would like to bet our gold pen, that there is not a moralist living shrewd enough to surmise who that pernicious author is. It is not Voltaire, nor Rousseau, nor any German philosopher, nor English infidel, nor French moralist, nor American democrat, but the immortal Cervantes, whose dire and malignant production is Don Quixote.

Mr. Ruskin's attacks on Greek architecture and the old landscape painters, must appear to the majority of readers very much like Don Quixote's battle with the windmills, and the onslaught upon an innocent flock of sheep; and he doubtless entertains a very warm feeling of sympathy for that mad knight-errantry which has been made the subject of immortal mirth by Cervantes. It would not be a difficult matter to run a very striking parallel between Don Quixote and Mr. Ruskin, and his vehement denunciation of the creator of that marvel of wit, is almost a confession that the Oxford graduate is himself sensible of the likeness which he bears to the knight of La Mancha. The difference between them is, that while the author of the Seven Lamps seems mad only to those who cannot comprehend him, the Don is mad to every body but himself.

The Edinburgh people have long boasted of their architectural splendors, and have absurdly called their small town the Northern Athens; but Mr. Ruskin, with that amusing indifference to the personal feelings and prejudices of his audience, which is characteristic of all earnest and zealous reformers, lectures them in the plainest and most convincing manner with special reference to their weakness, and proves beyond the possibility of dissent, that their architecture is a disgrace to their taste, and that they are destitute of artistic feeling and discrimination. It is not to be wondered at that Blackwood is angry

with the great critic; for, with a few quiet words he has completely demolished the pretensions of Edinburgh to be considered a fine city, and at a few blasts of his critical ram's horn the architectural glories of the New Town have fallen. If the force of his criticisms had not been felt, we should not have seen such an angry reply to them in Blackwood. The two radical principles of the Ruskinian theory of art are that mind is better than machinery, and that truth is better than falsehood. These two ideas lie at the bottom of all of the criticisms and dogmatisms of the Oxford graduate, and it is because the very bases of all his remarkable and startling theories have either been lost sight of, or never comprehended, that he has been so generally misunderstood, ridiculed and abused. But, though we do not anticipate an immediate revolution in architecture, painting, and sculpture, it is not possible that his remarkable writings should fail to give an entirely new direction to the artistic operations of the next generation. The old men will persevere in their old ways; but the new men, who have a career to make, will profit by the profound and sagacious theories which the author of the Stones of Venice has elucidated in his various writings. According to him, and we cannot dissent from his opinions, architecture has been a lost art during the past two hundred years. In all that time there has been an immense deal of costly building in Christendom, but nothing that deserves the name of noble architecture.

But, it is not as an expounder of the true theory of art that he is alone entitled to admiration; for even though all he had written on art were false and worthless, there would be enough remaining, interWoven among his criticisms, on the moralities of life, and the religious responsibilities of our nature, to place his writings among the most remarkable and profitable that the century has produced. In one of his Edinburgh lectures on Architecture there is a passage in relation to purchases of works of art, so full of noble thought, and the refined essence of Christian feeling, that we copy it, as much for its intrinsic beauty as, the novel and subtle principle which it evolves.

There is, assuredly, no action of our social life, however unimportant, which, by kindly thought, may not be made to have a beneficial influence upon others; and, it is impossible to spend the smallest

sum of money, for any not absolute purpose, without a grave responsibility attaching to the manner of spending it. The object we ourselves covet, may, indeed. be desirable and harmless, so far as we are concerned, but the providing us with it may, perhaps, be a very prejudicial occupation to some one else; and then it becomes instantly a moral question, whether we are to indulge ourselves in it or not. Whatever we wish to buy, we ought first to consider not only if the thing be fit for us, but if the manufacture be a wholesome and happy one; and if, on the whole, the sum we are going to spend, would do as much good spent in this way as it would if spent in any other way. It may be said we have not time to consider all this before we make a purchase. But no time could be spent in a more important duty; and God never imposes a duty without giving the time to do it. Let us, however, only acknowledge the principle;-once make up your mind to allow the consideration of the effect of your purchases, and you will soon easily find grounds enough to decide upon. Now let us remember, that every farthing we spend on objects of art has influence over men's minds and spirits, far more than over their bodies. By the purchase of every print which hangs on your walls, of every cup out of which you drink, and every table off which you eat your bread, you are educating a mass of men in one way or another. You are either employing them healthily or unwholesomely; you are making them lead happy or unhappy lives; you are leading them to look at nature and to love herto think, to feel, to enjoy; or you are blinding them to nature and keeping them bound, like beasts of burden, in mechanical and monotonous employments. We shall all be asked one day why we did not think more of this."

The particular application which Mr. Ruskin makes of this principle is, that it is better for the cause of art and humanity to purchase a cheap, original watercolor painting, than a high-priced engraving, an opinion from which no man with a heart in his bosom, or a sound idea in his head, will dissent. But if this principle be true in the morals of trade, and we do not see how it can honestly be gainsaid, with what force can it be applied to the case of literary purchases in this country.

and Art.

Betwixt north-west and north-west side."

What with whigs, democratic whigs, democrats, true democrats, barnburners, hakers, silver grays, woolly heads, soft shells, hard shells, national reformers, fre-eaters, and filibusteros, it is not difficult to imagine how the exotic intellect should get perplexed! Even to our native and readier apprehensions, the diversity of principle hidden under the diversity of names, is not always palpable; while it must be confessed, that our parties are not universally so consistent with themselves as to enable us to write their distinctive creeds in a horn-book.

Yet, on a closer survey, it is found tat parties here are very much the same, in their characteristic tendencies and aims, as parties elsewhere. They originate in that human nature, which is the same everywhere (modified by local circumstances only), and they exhibit under the various influences of personal constitution, ambition, interest, &c., the same contrasts of selfishness and virtue, of craft, audacity, genius, falsehood, wisdom and folly. It is true that our differences are not seemingly so fundamental and well-pronounced as those of older

VOL. IV.-16.

nations. We have no contests here as the elementary principles of government. A monarchist is perhaps not to be found from the St. Lawrence to the Rio Grande, any more than a rhinoceros or laminergeyer. We are all republicans; we all believe in the supremacy of the people; and our convictions, as to the general nature and sphere of legislation, are as uniform as if they had been produced by a process of mental stereotype.

But within the range prescribed by this more general unanimity, there has been ample room and verge enough, for the evolution of many heated and distempered antagonisms. We have agreed that our governments should be republican, but as to what functions they should exercise and what they should leave to the people, we have not always agreed; we have agreed that the separate States should be sovereign and independent, but to what extent they might carry that sovereignty and independence we have not agreed; we have agreed that the benefits of the federal union should be, from time to time, extended to new territories, but on what terms they should be extended, we have not agreed; we have agreed to keep aloof from the domestic affairs of other nations, but as to the details of foreign policy inside of this salutary rule, we have not agreed. There has been among us always, therefore, radical dissents and oppositions. We have had parties of many stripes and calibres, some which favored, and some which opposed a large concentration of power in the federal government; some which have proposed to accomplish their social objects by legislative and others by voluntary action; some which have