nounce his coming. One believer read prophecies in the lines of those seashells upon which a resemblance to musical characters may be fancied. The effect of this infatuation was that in whatever happened the Sebastianists found something to confirm their faith, and every fresh calamity was hailed by them as a fulfilment of what had been foretold. The emigration of the Prince and the entrance of the French were both in the prophecies, and both therefore were regarded with complacency by the believers. When the French flag was hoisted they cried Bravo! these are the eagles at the sight of which Bandarra, one of the greatest prophets that ever existed, shed tears! During the tumult in Lisbon their cry was, Let them fire! let them kill! all this is in the prophecies. This folly gave occasion to many impositions, which served less to expose the credulity of individuals, than to increase the prevalent delusion. One Sebastianist found a letter from King Sebastian in the belly of a fish, appointing him to meet him at night on a certain part of the shore. A more skilful trick was practised upon another with perfect success. An egg was produced with the letters V. D. S. R. P. distinctly traced upon the shell; the owner of the hen in whose nest it was deposited fully believed that it had been laid in this state, and the letters were immediately interpreted to mean Vive Dom Sebasiiam Rei de Portugal. The tidings spread over the city, and crowds flocked to the house. The egg was sent round in a silver salver to the higher order of believers. After it had been the great topic of conversation for three days, it was carried to Junot, by whom it was detained as worthy of being placed in the National Museum at Paris. These things naturally excited the contempt and ridicule of the French; nevertheless, when Junot, as if to put out of remembrance the very names of the Royal Family, ordered the ships that were called the Prince and the Queen to be called the Portugueze and the City of Lisbon; he altered the name of the St. Sebastian also." Similar scenes, and indeed more bloody than those we have recorded from this excellent volume, were reacted afterwards at Madrid. The misconduct of every individual of the Royal family of Spain, which contributed so much to these sad disasters, is held up to proper scorn and detestation; and no one appears more prominently on the tapis than the Queen in her anxiety for her paramour Godoy, when imprisoned by the predominant faction-Murat being then the representative of Buonaparte in the devoted capital: "No King ever placed his favour more unworthily than Charles, but there was a sincerity in his friendship which almost amounted to virtue, and would have done honour to a better monarch. The Queen's attachment also, which is more explained, had a character of enduring passion and selfabandonment seldom to be found in one at once so vicious and so weak. From this time she wearied Murat with letters, written in the most barbarous French and most confused manner, wherein she expressed her fears and her resentments. The massacre of the 2d of May has been frequently described; but the following may be quoted as new features, or if not, as being very strikingly painted : ---"An Englishman who was in the midst of this dreadful scene, told me the carnage was very great, and that he believed the French lost more than the Spaniards. This gentleman happened to be lodging with the same persons with whom I had lodged in the year 1796. Two women were killed in the house. Catholic) dressed up a stool as an altar, The mistress (an Irish with a crucifix in the middle, St. Antonio on one side, and St. I know not who on the other, and before these idols she and her husband and the whole family were kneeling and pray-. ing while the firing continued. This poor woman actually died of fear.-In the Memoires d'un Soldat the Mamalukes are said to have made a great slaughter that day. One of them breaking into a house from which a musket had been fired, was run through with a sword by a very beautiful girl, who was immediately cut down by his companions. A man who got his live lihood by the chase, and was an unerring shot, expended eight and twenty cartridges upon the French, bringing down a man with each; when his ammunition was spent, he armed himself with a dagger, and rushing against a body of the enemy, fought till the last gasp. A singular contrivance was resorted to in order to inform Romana of the state of affairs at home, so as to induce him to withdraw the Spanish troops from the Baltic, whither the insidious policy of Buonaparte had transported them. In proof of Mr. Southey's talents as a historian, we shall adduce only very short examples: these, however, in our judgment, sufficiently attest his qualifications to be of the foremost order, whether as they regard acuteness or comprehensiveness. Treating of the enthusiastic admirers of the early promise of the French Revolution, who in the end adhered so slavishly to the despot who blasted all its delusive prospects, Mr. S. says finely, oppres ---"More extraordinary was the weakness of those, who having been the friends of France at the commencement of the revolution, when they believed that the cause of liberty was implicated in her success, looked with complacency now upon the progress which opposition was making in the world, because France was the sor. They had turned their faces towards the east, in the morning, to worship the rising sun and now when it was evening they were looking eastward still, obstinately affirming that still the sun was there. Time had passed on; circumstances were changed; nothing remained stationary except their understandings; and because they had been incapable of deriving wisdom from experience, they called themselves consistent." The Volume, as we have stated, terminates with the disastrous retreat to Corunna, with the bright halo of victory thrown about its closing day. Among the excesses committed by our desperate soldiery, no longer under the salutary restraints of discipline, we read 3 ATHENEUM VOL. 13. with great regret, the account of the destruction of the castle of Benevente, one of the finest monuments of the age of chivalry. Even more affecting is the next relation: Sir J. Moore having resolved to retreat into Galicia, did not adopt the measures recommended by Romana ; accordingly A ---"He desired that the high road of Manzanal might be left to him, saying, he would defend that and the principal entrance to Galicia by Villafranca; and that Romana might take the Foncebadon pass, and enter by way of the Val de Orras and Puebla de Sanabria. And here a proof of Spanish magnanimity was given by these half armed, half naked, and half famished men, for such they literally were. malignant fever was raging among them, and long fatigue, privations, and disease, made them appear more like an ambulatory hospital than an army. Under such circumstances it might have been supposed they would have sought to secure their retreat under protection of the British to Corunna and Ferrol. But Romana and his forlorn band were too high minded to attach themselves as a burden upon those allies with whom they had so lately expected to co-operate in honourable and hopeful enterprise; and they assented without hesitation to the British General's desire. Romana only requested that the British troops might no longer be permitted to commit disorders which even in an enemy's country ought never to be allowed; it must have been painful indeed for Sir John Moore to have heard of such excesses, and still more painful to feel, that in a retreat so hasty as this was intended to be, it was impossible to prevent them." To efface in some degree the remembrance of these painful incidents, we take permission to give two or three traits of a different class from the field of Corunna. Corunna was so bad a position, "that some of our general officers advised the commander to propose terms to Soult, for permitting the army to embark unmolested. Happily for his own memory, upon farther consideration, he rejected the ad vice. It is sufficiently disgraceful that such advice should have been given; and deeply is England indebted to Sir John Moore for saving the army from this last and utter ignominy, and giving it an opportunity of displaying to the world that courage which had never forsaken it, and retrieving the honour which, had this counsel been followed, would irretrievably have been lost. "Sir David Baird had his arm shattered with a grape-shot as he was leading on his division. - - Marshal Soult's intention was to force the right of the British, and thus to interpose between Corunna and the army, and cut it off from the place of embarkation. Failing in this attempt, he was now endeavouring to outflank it. Half of the 4th regiment was therefore ordered to fall back, forming an obtuse angle with the other half. The manoeuvre was excellently performed, and they commenced a heavy flanking fire: Sir John Moore called out to them, that this was exactly what he wanted to be done, and rode on to the 50th, commanded by Majors Napier and Stanhope. They got over an inclosure in their front, charged the enemy most gallantly, and drove them out of the village of Elvina ; but Major Napier, advancing too far in the suit, received several wounds, and was made prisoner, and Major Stanhope was killed. pur "The General now proceeded to the 42d. Highlanders,' said he, 'remember Egypt!'-they rushed on, and drove the French before them, till they were stopped by a wall: Sir John accompanied them in this charge. He now sent Captain Hardinge to order up a battalion of guards to the left flank of the 42d. The officer commanding the light infantry conceived, at this, that they were to be relieved by the guards, because their ammunition was nearly expended, and he began to fall back. The General, discovering the mistake, said to them, My brave 42d, join your comrades: ammunition is coming, and you have your bayonets!' Upon this they instantly moved forward. Captain Hardinge returned, and pointed out to the General where the guards were advancing. The enemy kept up a hot fire, and their artillery played in cessantly on the spot where they were "As the soldiers were carrying him slowly along, he made them frequently turn round, that he might see the field of battle, and listen to the firing; and he was well pleased when the sound grew fainter. A spring-waggon came up, bearing Colonel Wynch, who was wounded: the Colonel asked who was in the blanket, and being told it was Sir John Moore, wished him to be placed in the waggon. Sir John asked one of the Highlanders whether he thought the waggon or the blanket was best? and the man said the blanket would not shake him so much, as he and the other soldiers would keep the step, and carry him easy. So they proceeded with him to his quarters at Corunna, weeping as they went. -- : "The General lived to hear that the battle was won. 'Are the French beaten?' was the question which he repeated to every one who came into his apartment; and he expressed how great a satisfaction it was to him to know that they were defeated. 'I hope,' he said, the people of England will be satisfied! I hope my country will do me justice.' Then, addressing Colonel Anderson, who had been his friend and companion in arms for oneand twenty years, he said to him, 'Anderson, you know that I have always wished to die this way-You will see my friends as soon as you can tell them every thing-Say to my mother,' -But here his voice failed, he became excessively agitated, and did not again venture to name her. Sometimes he asked to be placed in an easier posture. 'I feel so strong,' he said, 'I fear I shall be long dying. It is great uneasinessit is great pain.' But, after a while, he pressed Anderson's hand close to his body, and, in a few minutes, died without a struggle. He fell, as it had ever been his wish to do, in battle and in victory. No man was more beloved in private life, nor was there any general in the British army so universally respected. All men had thought him worthy of the chief command. Had he been less circumspect, had he looked more ardently forward, and less anxiously around him, and on all sides, and behind, had he been more confident in himself and his army, and impressed with less respect for the French Generals, he would have been more equal to the difficulties of his situation. Despondency was the radical weakness of his mind. Personally he was as brave a man as ever met death in the field; but he wanted faith in British courage, and it is faith by which miracles are wrought in war as well as religion. But let it ever be remembered with gratitude, that, when some of his general officers advised him to conclude the retreat by a capitulation, Sir John Moore preserved the honour of England. "He had often said that, if he were killed in battle, he wished to be buried where he fell. The body was removed at midnight to the citadel of Corunna. A grave was dug for him on the rampart there, by a party of the 9th regiment, the aides-du-camp attending by turns. No coffin could be procured; and the officers of his staff wrapped the body, dressed as it was, in a military cloak and blankets. The interment was hastened; for, about eight in the morning, some firing was heard, and they feared that, if a serious attack were made, they should be ordered away, and not suffered to pay him their last duty. The officers of his family bore him to the grave; the funeral service was read by the chaplain; and the corpse was covered with earth.” Thus with a solemn splendour and a sad glory closed the career of a gallant but unfortunate Commander; and with this we shall close our necessarily imperfect notice of the Work which pathetically and impartially details the afflicting particulars. From what we have said and quoted, we hope a tolerably accurate judgment may be formed of Mr. Southey's first Volume, the great merits of which will, we think, render the public very impatient for the com pletion of his design. For ourselves, we have only to repeat our almost unqualified admiration of a performance which we are of opinion places its author in the foremost rank of British historians. PARISIAN ANECDOTE. The Chace. A peasant having killed a wild boar in the vineyards on the estate of M. de Charrolais, was arrested and ordered to the galleys. The poor wretch, overwhelmed by the horrible sentence, threw himself at the feet of the enraged lord, and exclaimed, "Ah, my lord! have mercy on me, I beg your pardon; but I thought it was a man, or I would not have killed it." His excuse was admitted, and as he only intended to destroy one of his fellowcreatures he was pardoned and dismissed. THIS GRIM'S GERMAN POPULAR STORIES.* (London Mag. January.) HIS little book is well timed-for rich improbability which makes them with the wood-fires and long even- golden. They are simple in their manings of merry Christmas-tide, what ners of recital-potent in mystery and helps on old drowsy Time so kindly innocent extravagance. It is the vice with those whose imaginations are just of parents now-a-days to load their flowering, and whose hopes and joys children's minds with useful books— are in the bud, as the marvel-Tale, books of travels, geography, botany, which an old servant narrates just be- and history only, and to torture young fore bed-time, or over a social cup of thoughts with a weight beyond its tea around the huge and well-logged strength. Why should little children kitchen fire? When we were younghave grown-up minds?-Why should and despite our grey hairs and tottering the dawning imagination be clouded feet, we feel young still over a fairy-tale, and destroyed in its first trembling light? -we used to sit, per favour, of a win- Is the imagination a thing given to be ter evening sometimes, and take a story destroyed?-Oh no!-Let the man and a sweet dish of brown sugared tea and the woman have the dry bookin the kitchen. Those evenings are in the useful leaves-for their food; but our memory as vivid as ever--and we give to childhood the tender green and can, in one particular dead fire light, flowers for its yeanling imagination. still call them up with all their dark Casuists in go-carts are not for our afglory and mystery, to make us tremble fections. We love to see the earnest like children in our old age. There child on a low stool, lost in the wonwas the square large cell of a fire-place, ders of Goody Two Shoes;—not -and there the long dull grate-with straining the thin fibres of its little inthe dull depressing coals--and there tellect over villanous 'abridgments. the low rush-bottomed chairs--the The tiny springs of an infantine mind round deal table, and the single sickly are not strong enough to sustain the candle, smothering its own light with weight of reasonable books ;--but piled unmolested wick. And there-there, up with airy tales, and driven by the in that very spot-is our old nurse, fairies, they pass on and strengthen for with the same gossip voice, telling the better things. story of Bloody Jack, with an earnestness utterly terrific. We see the whole like a Teniers of the mind.We hear the thin countrified voice of the nurse sounding still-and Bloody Jack is awful yet. This book, we say, is well timed. It is a collection of traditional stories, translated and purified from the original German, and yet not robbed of the Many of these stories are well known to old children-and some are new even to us!-We shall give one,pretty one,-to show how pleasantly the work is translated-and how much may be done with light materials, when the fancy goes kindly and cheerfully to work. The following is sweetly told, and as sweetly conceived. What delightful food for a child's imagination ! JORINDA AND JORINDEL. There was once an old castle that stood in the middle of a large thick wood, and in the castle lived an old fairy. All the day long she flew about in the form of an owl, or crept about the country like a cat; but at night she always became an old woman again. When any youth came within a hundred paces of her castle, he became quite fixed, and could not move a steptill she came and set him free: but when any pretty maiden came within that distance, she was changed into a bird; and the fairy put her in a cage • German Popular Stories, translated from Kinder und Haus Marchan. London 1823. |