Meantime the constitutionalists were not idle, and the greater part of the regular army remaining faithful to that cause, Saldanha was able to march at the head of an overwhelming force, putting down the rebellion wherever he appeared. At Torres Vedras the rebels made a stout resistance, but bravely charged at the point of the bayonet, they were, with few exceptions, either killed or made prisoners, and among the chiefs fell Mouzinho d'Albuquerque, an elegant poet and author, the best engineer officer, and one of the most scientific men in Portugal. All must deplore his loss, rebel though he may be called, as one of the sad results of the civil war. Finally, besides Oporto, which the rebels have strongly fortified, the mountainous district of the Minho is alone held by the queen's enemies, and Saldanha is now executing a plan so completely to surround them that they have no chance of escape; the Conde de Vinhaes having raised a strong force of loyal men to the north in Trasos Montes, while other generals are marching down in all directions. Against these divisions when united it is impossible Oporto should long hold out, yet from motives of humanity, Saldanha will try every means to reduce it before he resorts to the last resource of storming the entrenchments.*

I have now given an outline of the present state of political affairs in Portugal, and of the causes which led to them, which may be thus summed up,- -a long course of misrule, owing to the gross want of education among the rulers, caused by the despotic influence of the Jesuits, and the consequent ignorance and bigotry of all classes; the introduction of vague notions of liberty among a people unfitted to receive liberal institutions; the yet existing want of public morality in the ruling orders consequent to the previous state of things, their poverty urging them to wish for wealth, and their pride forbids them to seek it by honest means, inducing them to grasp at power, to enrich themselves, and keep all below them in subjection. Yet depend upon it, whatever evil occurs, the Jesuits are at the foundation, they first induce the rulers to act ill, and then incite the people to rebel in order to prove the necessity of their own superintendence in the affairs of the world.

In such a condition a state cannot long exist. Where wrong has been done, as when a poison has been taken, if an antidote be not speedily administered, evil consequences must ensue. To our own cost we find such is the case with Ireland. With throes and convulsions nature is endeavouring to right herself, if she succeed not, wo to the charlatans who administered their quack specifics. Long, I fear, has Portugal to endure her present malady, to purify herself from the bad humours in her system. May she revive at last, with her social frame restored to health and vigour !

the Miguelite insurrection, as they were also in great part of the republican. They make all manner of men the engines to perform their work. Who, in truth, but the most sagacious and ever watchful can fathom their designs? Providentially they are not exceptions to the fallibility of mankind, or none could withstand their machinations to reduce their fellow-creatures to their sway, under the specious pretext of one universal religion!

Many months before the commencement of the present insurrection intimation of it was given me by a disciple of the Jesuits, who had just returned from Portugal.

* Oporto, like Jerusalem at its fall, is filled with men of all parties, congregated not combined for common protection. Miguelites, republicans, and advocates of a regency coming in and going out whenever they please, in fact, the place is in a state of complete anarchy and confusion.

Such must be the earnest wish of all who possess a spark of philanthropy in their composition, of all who know the many good and amiable qualities of the Portuguese; yet, unhappily, this is the most favourable light in which I can view the future prospects of that lovely portion of the Peninsula; for, after deeply considering the subject, I begin to fear that the country is not alone suffering from a violent convulsion, but from a deep-seated disease, which may ere long completely destroy her very vitality, and blot out her once proud name from among the kingdoms of Europe. Should the Republican party, who propose combining with Spain, succeed, such would assuredly be her lot; if the supporters of Dom Miguel, the tools of the Jesuits, triumph for a time, and England refuses to interfere, the Liberals of Spain must, for their own security, endeavour to drive the usurper from the country, and nothing but foreign interference would induce them to give up their prize, supported, as they would be, by their sympathisers in France. In either case, were Donna Maria compelled to abdicate, the result would be similar-Portugal would become again a province of Spain.

Besides the secret influences, I have described, at work, producing the present state of things, I must mention those of foreign cabinets-remote, perhaps, though they may be; of which Silva Carvalho is, by the Portuguese, supposed to be the agent of England; Costa Cabral, of France. Certain it is, that the English government has always looked with considerable suspicion, probably justly merited, on the policy of Costa Cabral, while he, with consummate art, made it appear that they were inimicably disposed towards the queen herself; and, by 'persuading the nation of this, succeeded to a great extent in advancing the French interests. Whatever the views of the French are, they have contrived, by courtesy and flattery, to win over the greater part of the Portuguese to regard them as friends, while our political agents, by a totally different behaviour, have effectually alienated the affections of all classes, who have thus learned to look upon all our actions as proceeding from sinister motives; while France, which never has been, and never can be, of any service to them, is regarded with affection, and her suggestions received without suspicion. The result is, that instead of being able to exert a beneficial influence in the councils of the queen, we can only interfere with an armed squadron; and it is even asserted, that Dom Miguel has been induced to come to England by the English government, that they may hold him in terrorem over the queen's party, should an indisposition be shown to accede to any terms they may propose. I grant that this notion is absurd, but not more so than many current in the country. I trust that no English statesmen would, from any motives of policy, be induced to use so despicable a tool.

Our proposed interference with respect to the destination of the rebels captured at Torres Vedras, is received by the Cartistas with considerable indignation, and considering that Bom Fim and others of them were for a second time in arms against their queen, I am not surprised at it. That our squadron in the Tagus has prevented an insurrection at Lisbon there can be no doubt, but the continuance of the British ships of war in the Douro, though necessary for the protection of British subjects, most decidedly induces the rebel chiefs to hold out in Oporto against their queen, under the expectation of being able to escape on board them, leaving their deluded followers to their fate, should the lines be successMarch.-VOL. LXXIX. NO. cccxv.

2 D

In January in the present year Mr. Hooton commenced a work of fiction on which he had bestowed much labour and care, in Ainsworth's Magazine. This work is finished, and the whole of the manuscript is in Mr Ainsworth's hands. It will now give the readers of Launcelot Widge additional interest in the story to know that many of its incidents bear reference to the author's own career, and more especially to his youthful days; for Mr. Hooton was as remarkable for versatility of talent as for his other mental powers, and he was equally at home with the pen, the pencil, and the palette.

Mr. Hooton was at work almost up to the day of his death. The present number of this Magazine contains The Norwegian Lovers from his pen, and some unpublished papers are still in our possession. He has also left a manuscript autobiography in the hands of a reverend friend, which no doubt is a very curious performance.

Mr. Hooton never perfectly regained his health after his return from Texas and New Orleans. In a letter written to Mr. Ainsworth as late as February 5th, or eleven days before his decease, he says,-"You are correct in the conjecture respecting my health. Every winter since my return from Texas (where I was deeply afflicted with ague and fever,) am I indulged with a return of the same complaint. In that savage country it is appropriately termed 'the Shakes.""

On Friday, the 12th, Mr. Philip James Bailey, the author of "Festus," called upon him, when he complained that during the week he had been suffering severely from ague, but thought that a walk would do him good. "We then walked out perhaps a mile and a half,” says Mr. Bailey, in a letter written after Mr. Hooton's decease," when I recommended him to return, he leaning on my arm all the way, for I saw he was very feeble and shaky." With the view of mitigating his sufferings and of procuring that sleep, to which he was often a stranger for several successive nights, he was in the habit of having recourse to opium and morphia, and on the night of Monday, the 15th, he sent for four grains of morphia, the whole of which, it is supposed, he took, and in about twenty minutes afterwards, upon his sister going into his bed-room, he said, "Oh, dear; I'm afraid I've taken too much morphia-don't let me go to sleep." He also asked to see his father, and mother, and kept closing his eyes whilst speaking; but, although he was continually shaken to keep him awake, all efforts to rouse him failed. A powerful emetic had no effect, and he slept to awake no more.

The highly-gifted young man quitted what had been to him a world of trouble, on the morning of Tuesday, February 16th, aged thirty-four years.

Charles Hooton was of a kindly disposition, open and sincere, generous, unsuspicious, and frank-hearted; an enthusiastic lover of the noble, the beautiful, and the true, both in sentiment and conduct. To these qualities he added a high sense of honour, keen and delicate feelings, and an ardent admiration of social progress and political liberty. In that strong feeling of pride and self-reliance, which upheld him amidst his trials and afflictions, there was much analogy between his short career and that of the gifted, but ill-fated Thomas Chatterton

The marvellous boy who perish'd in his pride,.

It is a curious fact, connected with this unfortunate young man, that when ap plication was made to the Literary Fund (which granted the totally inadequate sum of 201. for his relief), that the publisher of" Colin Clink" actually declined lending a copy of that work to be laid, in obedience to the laws of the Institution, before the Committee. But the publicity given to the benevolent acts of the above-mentioned charity, not only deprives them of half their charms, but also of more than half their utility; for there are publishers to be found, who are ready to mould their remuneration to the supposed necessities of the author; and for this reason also, it is obviously unfair to authors that publishers should sit upon the Council or Committee of the Literary Fund.

REV. J. T. HEWLETT, A. M.

We now come to the consideration of another painful subject, the loss of the Rev. J. T. Hewlett, A.M., author of several popular works of fiction, and an esteemed contributor to this Magazine. Mr. Hewlett was educated at the Charter House, where he was placed by Lord Eldon. He graduated at Worcester College, Oxford, and shortly afterwards married an amiable and affectionate, but portionless bride, and was appointed head-master of Abingdon Grammar-school. Here Mr. Hewlett's troubles began. his wife was a perpetual invalid, unable to keep the domestic part of the esta blishment in order. The consequence was, that Mr. Hewlett failed, and retired from Abingdon, about the year 1839, to Letcombe Regis, in Berkshire, where he was obliged to labour with his pen, to eke out the slender stipend his curacy yielded him, for it was in the month of May of that year that the "Life and Times of Peter Priggins, College-scout and Bedmaker," was begun in The New Monthly. Mr. Hewlett had intrusted his MS. to the hands of Theodore Hook, who undertook to edit a work, the extraordinary talent and humour of which he was the first to appreciate.

In 1840, Mr. Hewlett was presented by Lord Cottenham, to the living of Little Stambridge, near Rochford, of the annual value of about 175l. His wife had closed her few years of suffering at Letcombe; and grief, combined with care and anxiety, assisted to render Mr. Hewlett an early victim to the malaria of the district, into which he had now removed with his nine children. He continued, however, to write, amidst all his troubles and illness. While in Berkshire, he had received many kind attentions from a neighbour, Mrs. Hughes, of Kingston Lisle, of whom we had occasion to speak in a late biographical sketch of the works of the Rev. Mr. Barham, and to that excellent lady he was indebted for the suggestion of the subject of "Dunster Castle," as suited to a romance of the time of the Rebellion. To this tale Mr. Hewlett attached a very remarkable postscript, anticipating that he should soon sink under the evils that oppressed him. The death of his old friend, Hood, and those of some other literary friends, left a morbid feeling on his mind that his turn would be next. Nor was he wrong, for on the evening of the 24th of the same month, being then only in the forty-sixth year of his age, he died, leaving behind him Nine Orphan Children utterly unprovided for.

In addition to the well-known and popular works already alluded to, Mr. Hewlett wrote for this Magazine a very amusing series of tales and sketches under the title of "Esop Illustrated.' He was also the author of the "Parish Clerk," and of "Parsons and Widows," the last written in the name of the Curate of Mossbury, in which he is supposed to picture forth his own trials and experiences. His last work was a collection of tales and sketches, published under the title of "Great Tom of Oxford."

The "Literary Fund" has, in this case, blazoned forth a donation of 100%, with the same good taste as at their annual dinners its managers astonish some unfortunate recipient of their benevolence, by calling upon him to return his thanks for his health and welfare that has just been toasted in an unmistakeable manner-but kind people will remember that nine destitute children (whose claims, apart from every other consideration, is most urgent) are to be provided for. These young people, children of an English clergyman and author, who has contributed to the general well-being of society, as well as to the amusement of a large portion of the public, are destitute even of the bare means of existence; with the alternative (unless the Church will come forward to their relief) of the union,

o save them from starvation.

Three friends of the deceased who have most benevolently exerted themselves for the Nine portionless Orphans, have opened in their own names an account called "The Hewlett Fund," and Messrs. Glyn and Co., 67, Lombard-street; Messrs. Praed and Co., 189, Fleet-street; and Oliver Vile, Esq., Manager of the London and Westminster Bank, St. James's-square; have kindly consented to receive contributions from the London and country bankers, and other subscribers.

OPENING OF THE OPERA.

USED not the Opera season once to be the beau ideal of the soft and peaceful? Was it not a gentle breeze stealing upon us from the sweet south, and soothing the conflicts produced by hot Parliamentary debates? The Opera-box was the couch upon which the legislative warrior, fatigued by the busy contest of Friday, reposed his limbs on welcome Saturday. As the arms of the fair Gabrielle to the gallant Henri Quatre, so was the place in the grand tier to the representative of town or county.

Yea, the Italian Opera-house was the symbol of peace and unity-it was the great fact that there was but one Italian Opera. Drury Lane might scowl at Covent Garden, the Adelphi might feel bitterness of soul to think the Lyceum was lurking round the corner, while both united in hating the New Strand, or even, perhaps, allowed feelings of hostility to creep down Oxford-street, and settle on the Princess's. But the Italian Opera stood alone, unrivalled, loving its friends, having no enemy, and fondly nestling under its huge wing the "Little Haymarket," which, pelican like, it nourished with its own overflow.

But a cry has been heard in the land, and men have said: "Lo, there shall be two Italian Operas." Thus has war crept into the abode of peace, where nought but love and melody was known,-" red battle has stamped his foot," where no one should have stamped at all, save some artistic tyrant, in fictitious wrath, and people instead of quietly reposing, calmly feasting their ears and their eyes, begin to anticipate odious comparisons.

Oh, the Duad is the true origin of evil.-Mild, gentle, complacent One!-Harsh, angry, discontented Two!-Torn by strife, harassed by contending arguments, we sigh over the past reign of the Monad.

Those who created a Duad,—that is to say, raised a second Italian Opera in addition to the first-did not, however, intend that it should be permanent. No-the old Italian Opera-the venerable Titan of the Haymarket, was to crumble away to nought, and the antiquary was to write dissertations as to what could have been the object of that great edifice at the corner of Pall-mall. Covent Garden was to have risen in its strength and beauty, and after a struggle, short but desperate, was to have remained sole ruler. Covent Garden was to have been the Apollo, the old house, the Hyperion of the operatic mythology.

The reasoning of the Covent Garden people looked very convincing. There is but one set of people in the world who can sing Italian operas; there is but one set of people in the world who can instrumentally accompany Italian operas; we have got the people who can sing, we have got the people who can play, therefore with us alone Italian opera is possible. Poor Mr. Lumley was to sit like Deucalion after the flood, surveying vacancy in the orchestra and vacancy on the stage; vacancy in the boxes was of course a natural consequence. Yes, the flood of competition arose, Grisi, Mario, and a whole host of fiddlers and trumpeters were all swept away from the Haymarket.

Mr. Lumley being in the position of Deucalion acted like Deucalion, who, it may be remembered, peopled the world by casting stones over his shoulder. Mr. Lumley flung into the empty orchestra a shower of something which, we suspect, rather partook of the nature of metal than of stone, and lo! every desk had its occupant. The fiddler fiddled, the trumpeter trumpeted-all functions were fulfilled. Covent Garden saw