enormous debt, a dissatisfied people, gaining other in England's story. In the campaign peace without tranquillity, greatness without of Waterloo he did not display abilities so intrinsic strength, the present time uneasy, great as he had done in the Peninsular war ; the future dark and threatening. Yet she he was fairly entrapped into a battle when rejoices in the glory of her arms! and it is all the chances were against him. Yet he a stirring sound! War is the condition of conquered; and he will be remembered as this world. From man to the smallest in- the conqueror of Napoleon when his Indian sect, all is strife; and the glory of arms, and Peninsular career will have been forgotwhich cannot be obtained without the exer- ten. His Peninsular campaigns, incomparacise of honor, fortitude, courage, obedience, bly his most able, are far inferior to any modesty and temperance, excites the brave campaign of all Napoleon's career, yet will man's patriotism, and is a chastening correc- they ever remain as models of consummate tive for the rich man's pride. It is yet no generalship. security for power. Napoleon, the greatest Thirty-eight years have now rolled away man of whom history makes mention-Na- since the battle of Waterloo was fought, poleon, the most wonderful commander, the years of peace and almost universal tranmost sagacious politician, the most profound quillity; during that time the Duke has enstatesman, lost by arms, Poland, Germany, joyed every honor that could have been conItaly, Portugal, Spain and France. Fortune, ferred upon a British subject. One by one, that name for the unknown combinations of he has seen all his mighty compeers and infinite power was wanting to him, and with- competitors go down to the grave; and now out her aid, the designs of men are as bub- he too, ripe in years and full of honors, has bles on a troubled ocean." followed them-he too sleeps with the mighty We deem no apology necessary for the ex- dead! Requiescat in pace. He was the last treme length of this extract-so completely, relic of the colossal Titans who flourished in and in language so much finer than any we the age of George III. and they were giants could use has it expressed everything we de- indeed who flourished in those days. It was sired to say, that we have but little to add. such an age as the world has never seen, and The intellect of Napoleon can be compar- will not soon see again. Whether in regard ed to that of no other man. It was emphat- to the great events which agitated the period ically the master-mind of the human race and changed the destiny of nations, or to the the grandest climax of human intellectual splendid characters, military, scientific and greatness. He possessed more than the literary, who clothed it in glory, the age of statesmanship of Cæsar, with all his light- George III. has no parallel in history. We ning-like celerity-the prudence of Hanni- cannot enumerate all the great events, and bal with all the daring of Alexander-and in brilliant characters who flourished then. The comparison even the genius of the Duke of military genius of Frederick, the patriotism Wellington dwindles away almost to the of Chatham, the majestic fortitude of Washrank of common men. It is not by compa- ington, the ambition of Catharine; the corison with this mighty antagonist that we are lossal intellect of Pitt, the prophetic wisdom to measure the character and genius of Wel- of Burke, the burning eloquence of Fox, the lington. We must take him alone, follow erratic genius of Mirabeau, the energy of him through his long series of brilliant and Danton, the talent of Carnot, the unapsuccessful campaigns, beginning on the proachable intellect of Napoleon, and the plains of Flanders, and after nearly travers- calm, glorious heroism of Wellington, all ing the globe, closing almost on the very conspire to shed such a blaze of immortality spot they begun; and in making up our as is painful to look upon. They are all gone judgment we must lose sight altogether of now! They have all marched off the stage, his gigantic contemporary, except to remem- some of them in storm and tempest, others ber it was he whom Wellington opposed and in peace and serenity! The whole genconquered. But if Wellington was inferior eration has passed utterly away, leaving a to Napoleon, he was superior to all others of vast intellectual void, in all probability nevhis age, and his name far surpasses every er to be filled down to the latest generation AUTUMN DREAMS. of men. And now, in common with future ages, we may think of them, and write of them as things of by gone times. One by one all that mass of living greatness have Come beautiful Past, instinct with smiles passed away to that last lonely resting place and jests, and so much merry hearted laughof all of Adam's race, where we shall all ter!-bright as a fair lake dancing in the be contemporaries," and all be great alike. sunlight and the wind-dear as a long loved It is melancholy to reflect on the sad inevi- one with brilliant eyes and rosy lips, and table fate that awaits every mortal, whether glossy locks; and forehead leaning on the he be the statesman who wields the destiny shoulder trustingly, and tender smiles, the of nations, or the humblest peasant! All, "very echo to the seat where love is throned.” all, must pass to that last narrow house, that Come back to me to-day, while the dry leaves "bourne whence no traveller returns," how of gay November rustle round my window, many will ever reach that place "where the or are stirred by the young hounds rolling in wicked cease from troubling and the weary them yonder, on the lawn—come and add a are at rest." tender grace, more magical than ever to the fine landscape, and the old immemorial woods, and azure skies veiled with the Indian-summer haze, all speaking with such eloquent and moving voices of the bright merry faces which shed light upon my path, in other years! I remember my youth with my heart, not with my eyes, or intellect: and thus while a thousand "important matters" have passed for me, into the dust of oblivion to come back no more forever, I recall every trifle, every emotion, every image, every glance and accent, which moved my heart in the old days. Wonderful perfume of the Past! strange aroma of the rustling scrolls of memory! singular and striking exhibition of the allconquering puissance of the Heart! That perfume of the Past, in the bright evenings of Autumn wraps me like a roseate cloud, in its enchanting and delightful influence: a divine harmony arises from the fading leaves, and this roseate cloud, this melting music, combine to smooth the way for my return with joyful feel, into the bright, long cherished domain of my younger life. I do not think there ever could have been before so bright a face! That there have been none since resembling it I am well convinced! Why attempt to describes that beauty? Words are so cold! colors so faint! the most extravagant phrases so mere a burlesque of the truth, so mere a shadow of the original! That I loved her is saying littlethat I would have died for her with a smile upon my lip seems so unnecessary to be asserted! Ah! poor words! throwing down my pen I look out on the Autumn woods, and so it here?—and who took my better part away with dreamy eyes-the gay piano music in with her. my ears for a while write no more. Now For fate decreed that we should not long that I have drunk from the gay landscape a gaze into each other's eyes, nor any more long delicious draught of pleasure, let me forever rest, so, side by side. She went from trace a few more lines; those lines, like thin me, as all bright things in this world go, beblack clouds streaming across the disc of the coming instead of a reality a memory. Why great moon, may only obscure my radiant here yield to the feelings which rise in my heart image: but still will in a degree afford throat? No; I am very thankful that my me pleasure. Did not Hamlet find a certain treasure is so wholly mine, and am quite satisfaction in "unpacking his heart with calm again! words?" And though I am not Shakes- True, at times this calmness fails me, and peare though my poor words "faint and strangling a passionate sob which, rising in fail;" yet did I choose it, I could place here the breast, whirls like a mountain torrent to on this careless page, I fancy, something of the lips, I say in broken words: “I loved that music, and joy, and life, and beauty, her so! she was my all in all! my life! all which all met and centered with calm here is dark and worse than dead! my heart strength, and quiet complete majesty in that is worse than turned to stone-to ice!"child. true at times the weak bosom heaves, the eyes swim in tears, the pale lips tremble, For she was a mere child-a beam of the heart and soul are lost, overwhelmed by a dawn, not a ray of the noonday. The dawn rush of memories which carry all hope, all indeed seemed incarnate in her, with all its calmness, all philosophy before them, drownfreshness and tender grace, and splendor per- ing all but that bright star in the dark gulf of fect in itself, however liable to change. There tears: true, the human strength yields at was something in her eyes too of the bright times to fate, the brain succumbs! But this dew diamonds which morn scatters on the does not last: the true asserts again its power grass-eyes full of light and joy, and in- over the merely passionate: and the everstinct with that divine radiance which God shining star repels the cloud from its clear gives to his pure young angels, sent for a brow, and hope again sits on her throne. time to hallow with their presence our poor Then the dear image stretches to me from cold earth. The lips were very sincere and the Past soft, tender hands, which waft to guileless, the brow broad and rose-pearl, me unspeakable blessings; the bright eyes cheeks of sunset, and long dusky lashes the say to me what my heart listens to in silence; color of the chesnut hair, flowing in long and so I smile again, and think of my other curls upon the round shoulders. Thus 'tis heart with perfect calmness, no more any plain the dream of my heart, the moon that trace of grief. The memory is mine-I have ruled my blood in those days, as ever, was it so perfectly, that nothing can tear it from not-spite of my apparent extravagance-a me, and am happy. thing of impossible graces, and fabulous atDear sunbeam of my youth, how happy tributes. No: simply a child, who came to this soft Autumn dream of you! I do not me when I entered, and gave me a flesh and think of you as gone from me: gone? never! blood hand, and sat down by my side, and Here in my heart you are fixed so securely, rested the little curls upon my shoulder, and that the twin-souls will leave the portal hand raised the bright, loving eyes to mine, and in hand, I trust, to wander-as here happily uttered merry hearty, very unangelic laugh- they wandered one and single-hand in hand ter! No: only poets love their dreams and through the undreamed of vastness of eterwaste their sighs on airy forms of angels and nity! enchantresses of the fancy. Thank heaven I am not a poet, only an ordinary human being, and so this star that lit with such immortal light my younger days, was a true, simple maiden, who loved me-why not write Editor's Cable. Galt, the sculptor, is fitting up a studio in one of the smaller apartments, where visitors will be able, in a few days, to see all his busts, the Bacchante, Psyche, Virginia and Columbus. We especially ask the attention of our friends in the Legislature to these works. We have brought forward Galt's superior claims to the commission for Jefferson's Statue, and every body who will visit his rooms will recognize the justice of our estimate of his genius. The editor of the Fredericksburg News, in a notice of the last number of the Messenger, refers in only too favorable terms to some verses of our own, and suggests to us a trip in the metre of one of the stanzas. We had ourselves observed this defect, (which was the result of a typographical A sparkling little epigram of William Wirt, error,) before the number was made up, which was embodied by Kennedy in his adbut really did not think the matter of suffi- mirable memoir of that distinguished man, cient consequence to warrant a correction in was the subject, at the time the work was in the Editor's Table. We had supposed that progress, of some discussion among the litthe true nature of the blunder would have erary people around us, inasmuch as no auoccurred to the musical ear which informs thentic copy of it could be found in writing, the criticisms of the News-in the mere and it was transcribed by us for the biograomission of the little word "on" in the objectionable line. For the benefit of our fastidious friend, whose praise we highly value, we give the verse as it should have been printed And as they wail through the copses Sadly shall strike on the ear. Why should not the maxim de minimis non curat lex hold in the courts of Urania as in those of Themis? pher, from the recollection of Mr. Wirt's contemporaries yet living. We have recently obtained the original draft of the jeu d'esprit in Mr. Wirt's own handwriting, which settles the matter. We give it below, prefaced by Mr. Kennedy's brief account of the circumstances under which it was written "Wickham and Hay were trying a cause in the Court at Richmond. Wickham was exceedingly ingenious, subtle, quick in argument, and always on the alert to keep able for guarding all points, and was sometimes easily the advantage by all logical arts. Hay was not remarkcaught in a dilemina. Wickham had, on this occasion, reduced him to the choice of an alternative in which either side was fatal to him. The gentleman,' said he, The Lectures at the Richmond Athenæum may take whichever horn he pleases.' Hay was perhave commenced, and the course promises plexed, and the bar amused. He was apt to get out of to be one of unusual interest. Mr. Oliver temper and make battle on such occasions, and someP. Baldwin opened the season, on the even- times indulge in sharp and testy expressions-showing ing of the 29th November, with a lecture on himself a little dangerous. A knowledge of this char"Woman's Rights," of which it is but jusacteristic added to the sport of the occasion. Mr. Wartice to say that for wit, pathos and rhetori- of this bar,-familiarly known to them as Jock Warden, one of the most learned, witty and popular members cal grace, it could not have been surpassed den,-for he was a Scotchman, and then an old man,— by any lecturer in the land. The names remarked, in a quiet way, Take care of him, he has of the Rev. Mr. Moore, Mr. Geo. Frederick hay upon his horn! Wirt, sitting by, with full appreci Holmes, Professor Schele De Vere, Mr. G. ation of this classical witticism, forthwith hitched it into P. R. James, and others to follow, give earn- verse in the following epigram: est of the high intellectual entertainment in store for our citizens. "Wickham t'other day in court Recent additions to the various rooms of the Athenæum building will make them more than ever pleasant places of resort. The libraries of the Historical Society and the The compositors in some of our Richmond City have received large accessions of rare printing offices have a rare felicity of blunand valuable books purchased with great dis- dering. A few days since we saw Mr. crimination in London, during the last sum- Thackeray's book announced in a daily paper mer, by Conway Robinson, Esq., and the as "The New Combs," and an advertisetaste and liberality of that gentleman have ment in another journal informed us that our been well displayed in some paintings which friend Mr. Randolph had just received a he brought with him to adorn the walls of large supply of "interesting London Cooks." the Lecture Room. VOL XIX-98. John Warden. The article in foregoing sheets of the present number of the Messenger entitled "Cas tles and Shakspere" is from a forthcoming work by H. T. Tuckerman, descriptive of English Travel. It will be styled "A Month in England," and the reader may argue from the agreeable style of the extract we present from it, that it will be one of the most readable volumes of that sort ever issued from the American press. Among our exchanges we especially value. two-the Knickerbocker and the Literary World, for the pleasant things the editors say to us. Clarke is always full of charming gossip, and Duyckinck has a way of delighting you that is peculiarly his own. There is a sort of Century-Club geniality felt by the reader of old Knick's varietés and the World's criticisms, which is found in few For the King will soon come down, Turkey, Russia, and others too, Will join in the battle, and that not few, The one who the prophets says, Is the battle of the latter days. Will not the Editors all look, And see it written in the Book, Keep an eye o man! Oh keep! An eye to the War though others sleep, What the prophets say would come to pass. A volume of poems is about to appear from the press of Scribner for which we bespeak d'avance the hearty appreciation of the public. It is the venture of a literary partknights of the quill. We are glad to know nership which trades upon a large capital of that the circulation of both these journals is genius, composed of "Two Cousins of the increasing. South"-Mr. T. Bibb Bradley and Miss Julia En passant, we notice a change in the pro- Pleasants. The former has made himself prietorship of the Southern Quarterly Review known to the readers of the Messenger in which promises to place that valuable work frequent tuneful utterances of the muse: his on a surer basis than ever. Mr. C. Mortimer fair cousin has not published so much, but has become its owner, and is fortunate enough her silver rhymes have been recently ringto retain Simms in the editorial chair which ing through the land in vibrations so musical he has graced so long. The Quarterly has that all have stopped to hear, and we cannot not heretofore enjoyed that favor at the doubt that when the collection of the poems hands of the Southern reading public to of both makes its appearance, it will be hailwhich it was justly entitled by reason of its ed as establishing their claims to lofty niches high literary excellence and its devotion to in the temple of song. Southern interests, but we feel confident it will now receive a more substantial encouragement and operate in a wider sphere of usefulness than it has ever done before. The shock of arms in the Orient between the Turk and the Czar, which has caused the electric wires of the country to tingle with such agreeable intelligence of a rise in wheat, and furnished the daily papers with so capital a theme for swelling paragraphs, has not been without a certain happy effect in awakening the poetic sensibilities of such as possess "the vision and the faculty divine." Witness the following effusion which came to us, a few days since, and which shows the author to have something of that "proleptic apprehension" of coming events which was attributed in our last number to Tennyson If I were to write the poet's name, One more thing I like to say, Notices of New Works. THE FLUSH TIMES OF ALABAMA AND MISSISSIPPI. A In the department of humour we think it can not be questioned that Southern writers have excelled. The Georgia Scenes of Longstreet-Major Jones' Courtship of Thompson, and Simon Suggs of Hooper, constitute an aggregate of fun, the like of which it would be difficult to find in our literature, and here we have a new hnmourist who, in our judgment, surpasses them all. The seal of public favor has already been set upon Mr. Baldwin's sketches as they appeared during the past year in this magazine, and we are but giving expression to a widely entertained opinion when we say that they are the very best things of the kind that the age has produced. The drollery of the writer is irresistible, but apart from this there are graces of style which belong peculiarly to him, and are always appearing in the most delightful man |