Part 10

Yes; I write myself proprietor for the nonce of a London edition. My name is written in 'LAMB's Book of Life;' say rather, in a Book of the Life of Lamb. Most hugeously do I relish his quaint conceits, and those dainty sentences, the fashioning whereof came to him unbidden, from spirits of the olden time, bending from the clouds of fame. (By-the-by, what an unconscionable dog was Ossian! He always kept a score or two of heroes, sitting half-dressed on cold clouds, making speeches. 'Twas most unkind of him. But he lived in a rude age.) Lamb was one of those precious few of whom the world is not worthy. He wrote from the impulses of a noble heart, guided to new expression by a mind clear as the brook of Siloa, that flowed by the oracles of God. He was not one of your persons who are dignified by the phrase 'all heart,' for he had a prolific brain, which all-hearted people generally lack. Of course, he disciplined himself betwixt a desk at the India-House, and his social hours, or studious; but what golden fruitage sprang therefrom! None of your crude sentences, half-formed, unlicked, unpolished; but full of meaning; succinct to the eye, and harmonious to the ear. There is a light from his pen, which can illumine the saddest hour. He went forth to amuse and enlighten, as the sun gets up in the morning to cheer the world, 'with all his fires and travelling glories round him.' Essayist incomparable! How would he have looked writing a prize-tale for the horror-mongers!

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IN respect of these latter things, how many double-distilled atrocities of that kind are now and then committed at this day! They must be filled with blood and murder; piracy, thieving, villany of all sorts, must be thrown in, to make the mixture 'slab and good.' This is the result of the ten thousand pages of trash, which the want of a copy-right law entails upon us from England. _Improbability_ is the first ingredient, to which assassination, seduction, and all kinds of crime, must approximate. Let me give a specimen:

'THE FATAL VOW.'

'It was late in the fall of 18--, (convenient blank!) when, as the night had come on, on a stormy evening, a dreadful tempest arose in the west. The lightning flashed, the thunder faintly bellowed for a time; but soon the lightning discontinued, though the thunder moaned on. It was pitch dark--darkness Egyptian. The sight was palsied and checked within an inch of the eye. At this juncture, two men on horseback might have been seen, at the distance of half a mile from the river ----, riding through a thick wood. One of them was of sallow complexion, with huge black whiskers; he rode a horse of the color called by rural people 'pumpkin-and-milk,' or cream-color, rather. In his holster were two pistols. He wore a broad slouching hat, apparently unpaid for. A frown, blacker considerably than hell, darkened his brow. Turning to his companion, a weazen-faced man, with a red head, mounted on what is called a 'calico mare,' he said:

'Well, Jakarzil, shall we do the deed to-night?'

'It would ill befit the noble Count d'Urzilio de Belleville,' said the dependant, 'to shoot that ill-fated lady at the present time. It would not _look_ well.'

'I care not for the looks!' replied the count, curling his lip, and placing in his sinister cheek a piece of tobacco, 'I must have vengeance! If the candle is not at the casement, I shall bu'st the door. I want revenge!'

'TO BE CONTINUED.'

This is like the modern tales. Meditated butchery, successful scoundrelism, and other delectables, make up their sum. As the fragment just read may never be concluded, I will mention the fate of the parties. The hero shot his grandmother out of _pique_, and was hung; Jakarzil, his man, is in the penitentiary for horse-stealing.

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SOME of my unpoetical friends think I have underrated the Falls at Catskill. Heaven save the mark! They have never seen Niagara, and are therefore contented with a few grim rocks, the gate of a mill-dam, and grandeur by the gallon; for thus, in a manner, is it sold. No! Let these untravelled but clever fellows once hear the roar that shakes Goat-Island, and the region round about; see the river that pours its mile-wide breakers down, and mark the rainbow smile! Ever thereafter will they hold their peace.

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ONE or two credulous persons have fancied that the sketch of 'Smith of Smithopolis' was designed as an imputation upon the name. The said imputation is disdained, by these presents. I have a decided regard for that style and title: companionship, familiarity, personal knowledge, (so grateful to the inquiring mind,) are its synonyms. Beside, I honor the name, for sundry associations. Who has never rode in a rail-car, a steam-boat, or a coach, with a person of the name of Smith? Or heard him speak at a public meeting? Or owed him a trifle? Or had a trifle due from him, the Smith aforesaid? _Nemo_--'I undertake to say'--(in fact I not only _undertake_ this vocal enterprise, but I _accomplish_ it.) Aside, reader, 'tis a criticism on the phrase; which whoso uses when he knows what he is about to set down in palpable chirography, is a _sumph_ unqualified: _Anglice_, one of the flat 'uns, named of _Stulti_.

The Smiths are numerous, 'tis said. Grant it. Who pays more post-office revenue? Who more quickly resents a jeer upon the name? Tell me that. 'Not nobody.' Would you look for heroes? The Smiths could supply them. For female goodness and devotion? The same, from the same. For wit, genius, and elevated-talent? _Vide_ Horace and James, of the Addresses, and Richard Penn; the studious scholar, good lawyer, quaint citizen, novelist, poet, dramatist--every thing clever.

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I HAD many more things to say, courteous reader; but I fear, from what I have written, you may augur a bore. Heaven forfend! Consequently, thine in conclusion, I write myself, henceforth, now, and formerly,

OLLAPOD.

FOOTNOTE:

[10] Apropos of this 'supererogatory and adscititious' prohibition. The small steamers which ply on the beautiful Connecticut, above the ancient fortification of 'Göed Höop,' renowned in KNICKERBOCKER's veracious history, and now known as 'Dutch Point,' have but one paddle-wheel, which is placed some six or eight feet astern. The voyager in these pretty craft is forcibly struck with the necessity of obeying a printed order, conspicuously posted: _No smoking abaft the wheel!_' And those who watch from the shore the locomotive column of spray, (like the 'pillar of cloud by day' that concealed the Israelites,) which hides the boat from view, in its upward passage, must also be of opinion that his 'pipe' would be soon 'put-out,' who should attempt to smoke in so moist a region.

EXAMPLE.

HIS faults that in a private station sits, Do mainly harm him only that commits: Those placed on high a bright example owe-- Much to themselves, more to the crowd below. A paltry watch, in private pocket borne, Misleads but him alone by whom 'tis worn; But the town-clock, that steeples oft display, By going wrong, leads half the town astray.

THE COMING OF WINTER.

I.

THE wintry months are here again-- Around us are their snows and storms; The tempest shrieks along the plain, The forest heaves its giant forms.

II.

The drifting sleet flies from the hill, Thick clouds deform the threat'ning sky; While in the vale, the birds are still, And chain'd by frosts, the waters lie.

III.

Ah! where is now the merry May, The green banks, and the leafy bowers? The cricket's chirp, the linnet's lay, That gave such sweetness to the hours?

IV.

And where the sunny sky, that round This world of glad and breathing things, Came with its sweetness and its sound, Its golden light and glancing wings?

V.

Alas! the eye falls now no more On flowery field, or hill, or plain; Nor for the ear the woodlands pour One glad note of the summer's strain!

VI.

The green leaves stript have left the woods Towering--their tall arms bleak and bare; And now they choke the sounding floods, Or fill, in clouds, the rushing air!

VII.

Yet turn we here! The winter's fire, Its crackling faggots blazing bright, Hath joys that never, never tire, And looks that fill us with delight.

VIII.

Home's joys! Ah yes, 'tis these are ours, Home's looks and hearts! 'tis these can bring A something sweeter than the flowers, And purer than the airs of spring.

IX.

Then welcome be old Winter here! Ay! welcome be the stormy hour; Our kindly looks and social cheer Shall cheat the monarch of his power!

X.

With mirth and joy the hours we'll crown-- Love to our festival we'll bring! And calm the sturdy blusterer down, And make him smiling as the spring!

_New-Haven, November 13th, 1837._ B. T. W.

OCEOLA'S CHALLENGE.

LATE accounts from St. Augustine state, that the recent capture of the Indian chiefs has by no means increased the friendly feelings of the red men toward the whites. 'There will yet be hard fighting, and they will be rendered more desperate than ever. Even the captives seem to doubt that they will be sent out of the country.'

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COME on! O'er prairie, bluff, and swamp, By bush, and rock, and tree, Where'er an Indian's foot may tramp, Where'er ye march, where'er ye camp, My warrior band shall be!

Come on! My words are plain and few, My greeting brief and free But if ye think it less than due, With deadly aim, my rifle true Shall welcome speak for me.

Come on! And if ye miss the track Left by the red man's tread, Well shall ye know the pathway back! We'll strew it, lest a guide ye lack, With heaps of scalpless dead!

Come on! Our sires your fathers fought In these green wilds of old, We ask ye, and we owe ye nought, And know, these lands, that ne'er were bought, Can but for blood be sold!

_November, 1837._ H.

RANDOM PASSAGES

FROM ROUGH NOTES OF A VISIT TO ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY.

NUMBER EIGHT.

PRUSSIA--BELGIUM.

COLOGNE, SEPTEMBER 14TH.--On the arrival of the steam-boat, (_alias, dampschïffen_, or _le bateau à vapeur_,) the bells of the town were ringing, cannons firing, a band of music playing, and the _quais_ were filled with at least five thousand people, who were kept in order by a party of soldiers. Some distinguished personage seemed to be expected in the boat, but there was none forthcoming. The military cleared a passage through the crowd, and we landed without any confusion, although it was dark, and there were three hundred passengers (picked up on the way,) to be supplied with porters and lodgings; and the place was known to be full. At the fourth hotel I applied to, alone, in the dark, in a strange place, I succeeded in securing an attic; but many others were even less fortunate.

After supper, I made a sally through the principal streets, which are well lighted with gas. It seems to be a busy and cheerful place, much like Paris; buildings irregular, streets crooked, and ill-paved. The far-famed _Eau-de-Cologne_ forms a considerable article of its trade, and has contributed not a little to familiarize its name all over the world. The four brothers Farina rival each other in the manufacture; but the most noted artist is Jean Maria Farina. I took a peep into his establishment; and were it not that His Majesty of England would make me pay for it over again, I should like to send you some of the 'genuine article.'

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AIX LA CHAPELLE, SEPTEMBER 15TH.--My present date is from the city of Charlemagne. 'To begin where I left off.' While writing last evening in my _lofty_ apartment, looking out upon the Rhine, the music on the quay suddenly re-commenced, and the enthusiastic shouts of the populace announced that the expected visitor had arrived. It proved to be the crown prince of Prussia, and his two brothers. Prussia now extends, as you are aware, this side of the Rhine as far as Aix. The present king and all his family are said to be exceedingly and deservedly popular with the people. The government, although in theory despotic, is evidently mild and liberal in practice. In education, I need not tell you, Prussia stands prëeminent; and if you are curious for information on this point, I would refer you to the recent report of Victor Cousin.[11] The regulations of the police, the public conveyances, etc., in the Prussian dominions are certainly excellent.

I was early awake this morning, in order to finish exploring Cologne before six, the starting hour for Aix. Escorted by a young cicerone, who 'politely volunteered his services,' I went first to the cathedral, one of the most celebrated on the continent. Five hundred years have elapsed since this edifice was commenced, and yet it is scarcely half finished! The choir only is quite completed, and this is very elaborately decorated within and without. The grass is actually growing on the towers, which have as yet attained but one third of their intended elevation, (five hundred feet,) and being connected with the choir merely by a temporary structure, they look like ruins of a separate edifice. Yet, even in its present state, the cathedral of Cologne is a wonderful specimen of human ingenuity and perseverance. I followed my cicerone to the head of the choir, behind the great altar, where he pointed to a richly-ornamented monument, as the tomb of the 'Three Kings of Cologne.' It is to be hoped you are versed in the veritable history of these same three kings, as well as that of the eleven thousand virgins before-mentioned, for neither memory nor time will permit me to edify you in 'legendary lore.'

Mass had already commenced, at this early hour, and the good people were kneeling reverently on the marble floor, saying their paternosters and counting their beads, or watching, with humble simplicity, the movements of the priest before the altar. I observed one of the boys employed to swing the censers of burning incense, turn round occasionally, with a piteous yawn. The painted windows in this cathedral are very elaborate and beautiful. I had time to 'drop in' to several other churches during matins, where I saw much that was curious and dazzling, and heard some fine organ-music.

There were twenty-two passengers 'booked' for Aix, and according to law, they were obliged to send extras for as many as applied before the hour. This route to Brussels and Ostend is much travelled by the English, in preference to continuing on the Rhine to Rotterdam.

It was a bright morning again, and the ride proved rather pleasant, though somewhat monotonous. The country, for several miles out of Cologne, is nearly level, and almost quite treeless: near the city, it is laid out in one vast vegetable-garden, without any enclosure, as is often the case on the continent. Poaching does not seem to be dreamed of. The fortifications of Cologne, and those of Juliers, our first stopping-place, are of the most substantial kind. Juliers is surrounded by three distinct walls, each about twenty feet thick, and separated by broad deep ditches, or canals. And yet in the present _refined_ state of the art of war, this fortress is far from being impregnable.

We arrived at Aix at 3 P. M., and having taken a place for an evening ride to Liege, and had my passport _vised_ at the Hotel de Ville, the next thing was to visit the cathedral containing the bones of the great CHARLEMAGNE. His tomb is under the floor, in the centre of the church, and is covered by a plain marble slab, on which is inscribed in _lofty_ simplicity,

'CAROLUS MAGNO.'

After looking at the throne of the 'grand monarque,' and at the immense windows of the choir, (remarkable for the lightness and elegance of their frames,) we were conducted by a priest to a closet, or _sanctum sanctorum_, to see the famous cabinet of precious relics.[12] I send you a printed account of these veritable relics, and as to their authenticity, it is to be hoped your bump of marvelousness is too large to permit you to doubt. Will you not look upon me with a 'thrilling interest,' when I tell you that I have seen and touched them with my bodily hands? They gravely tell you how the 'sacred' articles were obtained, and how they were presented to Charlemagne by the patriarch of Jerusalem. I doubt not they really find them _precious_ articles of speculation, and would be grieved to hear a suspicion of their being genuine. The linens worn by the virgin when Christ was born, are among those too sacred for common eyes, and are only shown in seven years, with much 'pomp and circumstance.'

By the way, I saw also the splendid crown of Isabella of Castile and Arragon, (the patron of Columbus,) of pure gold, covered with diamonds. And in London I forgot to tell you of Charlemagne's Bible, a magnificent folio MSS., on parchment, richly illuminated, etc. It had intrinsic and unquestioned evidence of being executed for the emperor by Eginhard, the historian of that period. It was 'bought in' at auction, for £1500, ($7,500,) but finally sold to the British Museum. But you must be tired of relics.

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LIEGE, SEPTEMBER 16.--Last evening I reconnoitred the town of Aix la Chapelle, heard two acts of the 'Marriage of Figaro' admirably sung in the Grecian Opera-House, and then stepped into the 'Schnell-Post.' On the frontiers of Belgium, about midnight, we were stopped at a 'Bureau de Police,' our luggage was all taken off and searched, and our passports examined, during which operations we all 'kept our patience,' save a poor Frenchman, who had to pay duty on a couple of boxes of cologne, snugly stowed in his trunk. After rewarding the worthy gentlemen for their politeness, we were suffered to proceed.

Liege, you will recollect, beside being famous in history, was the scene of the tragedy so vividly pictured in 'Quentin Durward,' the murder of the bishop by the 'Wild Boar of Ardennes.' The bishop's palace was a short distance from the town, but no traces of it remain. His city palace, (noted for its eccentric architecture, each of the interior pillars being in a different style,) is now used as a market-house. Liege is built on both sides of the river Meuse. It is quite a manufacturing place, as well as lively and pleasant, and seems to be regaining its former importance. The shop-windows present a really brilliant display of merchandise, of every description. Two of the modern streets, strange to say, are well paved, and have sidewalks four feet wide; an unusual phenomenon on the continent. In the course of my ramble, I dropped into three or four churches, for the churches in these countries are open at all times; and they have abundant attraction, at least in painting, sculpture, architecture, and music; in short, they are museums of the fine arts. The prevalence of superstition among the good people seems strange in this 'enlightened age;' and yet on the whole, we cannot wonder at it, if the proverb be true that 'Ignorance is the mother of Devotion.' One of the printed notices of holy days, etc., in honor of the virgin and the saints, commences on this wise: '_Marie le Mère de Dieu, est dignes de notre homage_,' etc.

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NAMUR, 16.--The ride from Liege to this place (forty miles,) along the banks of the Meuse, was delightful.[13] The scenery, if not _pittoresque_, in the Frenchman's sense, is at least beautiful. There was a very perceptible difference in the diligences on leaving the Prussian dominions; the Belgian vehicle being large, clumsy, heavy-loaded, and drawn by three miserable, creeping compounds of skin and bones. On leaving Liege, we passed several close-looking, high-walled convents and nunneries in the environs. There was little else to notice during the journey, except the boats on the Meuse, drawn up by horses; and the cathedral and walls of Huy, the half-way town. In approaching Namur, the road makes a broad circuit, and enters the gate on the Brussels side, giving the traveller an imposing view of the fortifications on the heights overlooking the town. It was late in the evening, when the diligence set us down near the Hotel de Hollande, in which I am now snugly disposed of, a solitary guest.

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BRUSSELS, 17TH.--I was on the top of the diligence this morning at six, for another ride of thirty-six miles to the capital of Belgium, over the field of Waterloo. The only village on the route worth mentioning is Genappe. At noon we came in sight of a large mound, in the form of a pyramid, surmounted by a figure of an animal. It proved to be the Belgic lion-monument, commemorating the great victory of the allies. We soon came up to, and passed over the centre of, the battle-field, our conducteur meanwhile pointing out the various localities which he doubtless has often had occasion to do before: 'Le Maison ou Napoleon logé.' 'Wellington et Blucher.' A tablet over the door of the cottage explained: '_La belle Alliance. Recontre des Generaux Wellington et Blucher dans la bataille memorable de Juin 18, 1815._' On the right of the road, 'L'armie Prusse;' farther on, 'L'armie Anglais;' on the left, 'L'armie Française.' We had now come where the fight raged thickest, at present marked only by the monuments to the more distinguished victims. The field is smaller than I supposed. Those great armies must have been necessarily in close contact. This is the spot, then, where, at the expense of the lives of twenty thousand men, the mastership not only of France but of all Europe was decided.

'And here I stand upon the place of skulls, The grave of France--the deadly Waterloo!'

And here, where on that dreadful night, the groans of the wounded and dying went up to heaven, calling aloud for retribution on their ambitious fellow man, who sought, at whatever cost, to

'Get the start of the majestic world, And bear the palm alone;'

here you now see only the peaceful labors of the peasant women, planting their flax and potatoes over the graves of the slaughtered, which scarcely have a 'stone to tell where they lie,' or to remind you of the stirring scenes of the night when the gayety of the ball at Brussels was changed to anxious terror, by the cry of 'The foe! they come!--they come!'