lighter pair. And then there is always the risk of winning, and of thus rivetting their chains, and deepening the shadow of the bondage wherein they dwell. At best they can but lessen their enormous fortunes at the expense of one another, shifting a few of their responsibilities upon shoulders that had too many to bear already.

These unfortunate slaves in a free country obtain no consideration. People stare at a man as his carriage is whirled along Pall-mall, and turn their heads back to look, too often with a sensation of envy; they little think what it is to ride about with a coal-mine hanging about the heart. They gaze upward at the windows of a mansion in which light, and music, and festivity, seem to be making a paradise, and never stop to consider that the enslaved owner has three or four parks -far off in the country-pressing with their many-acred expense upon his brain. They see him sauntering into his club, and never reflect that there may be a canal forty miles long running through his mind—or half a railroad harrowing up his whole soul. They know that he is deeply concerned in the stocks, and yet deem him free. Where is the country whose bonds are not about and around him? And yet men doubt whether his condition be that of slavery, poor man !

It is equally grievous to the moralist, to see the really free-those who have neither property, nor the expectation of property-insensible to the benefits they enjoy, the superiority of their condition when contrasted with the thraldom of great riches. So far from being lovers of liberty, of that kind of liberty which consists in the total absence of the cares of money, they care not how heavy their chains might be provided they be golden ones. It is not that they object to wearing fetters, but only to the metal from which they are ordinarily forged. There is no convincing them that the millionaire must be a miserable man. Their blood fails to curdle, their hair refuses to stand on end, though you picture to them, with all the force of truth, the horrors of a mere twelve or fifteen thousand a year. Their strong nerves are unaffected, and their free souls are undismayed, by the appalling spectacle of three or four houses, and three or four carriages-a sumptuous table, and troops of gay followers-libraries and picture-galleries, yachts and hunters with (when the whim seizes) the means of building schools and hospitals the power of ranging over earth and sea, and finding a sure and thoroughly honest welcome every where! With a courage worthy of a better cause, the British heart longs for this thraldom. It is shocking to see what insensibility there is among the moderns, to the magnificent maxim of our fortune-shunning ancestors. The charter of the land should run,

"Britons ever will be slaves,"

that is to say, if slavery consist in fortune, and its fetters be wrought of the precious metals.

(To be continued.)

LITERATURE OF THE MONTH.

THE SIEGE OF FLORENCE.*

Ir is surprising that we have hitherto had so few historical romances connected with the social and political annals of Italy, whose history has been one long romance, from her earliest existence as a nation to the present day-a romance more exciting in its incidents, more touching in its details, and more instructive in its moral lessons, than any other which the world has witnessed during all that period. And the surprise we have expressed above is increased when we consider that since the historical romance has become so universally popular among us-that is to say, during the last twenty years-the localities of Italian history have become as familiar to the educated and reading portion of the English people as those of their own annals. Be the reason for this deficiency what it may, the subject and the scenes of the present work are very happily chosen,-both as regards themselves intrinsically, and the associations which our countrymen have during the last few years connected with the latter; Florence, and its lovely environs-where the incidents of this romance chiefly occur-having long been the most favourite sojourn of those English who seek a temporary or permanent retirement beneath an Italian sky.

The siege of Florence, consequent on the expulsion of the hated Medici family, and its heroic defence against the forces under Philibert, Prince of Orange, form, of course, the leading historical features of this romance, and give rise to scenes and descriptions of singular force and freshness of manner. Indeed, vigour and animation of style in the narrative and descriptive portions of this romance, form its most striking characteristics. But these are very happily blended with a tone of deep earnestness in the fictitious portion of the story-a passionate and touching love tale, which runs through the whole narrative, and gives to it a personal and individual interest which the great events of history often fail to excite. Some of the descriptions of the wild forces under the standard of Charles de Bourbon, which take part in the chief events of this story, are in no respect inferior to similar descriptions which occur in the works of Mr. James, to whose school this novel expressly belongs ;-and some of the more passionate parts of the narrative-those in particular connected with the fate of the gentle Teresa, one of the most touching delineations in modern romance-are, as we think, superior to pictures of a corresponding class in the works of the writer just referred to-superior in pathos, and at least equal in freshness and originality. On the other hand, there are passages, chiefly in the episodes connected with Brandano, the giant monk, and his son, the vile apothecary, Zonara, which, in their abounding horror, appeal more aptly to the questionable taste of our continental neighbours than to that of the generality of English readers. Yet it may be doubted whether the force with which the frightful scenes in question are de

*The Siege of Florence: an Historical Romance. By D. M'Carthy, Esq. 3 vols.

picted,—those in particular which occur in the house of Zonara, and the final one describing the fearful death of that monster of mingled baseness and cruelty, will not render them the most exciting, as they will certainly be found the most impressive scenes in this striking fiction.

"The Siege of Florence" is the result of much reading and careful consideration of the Italian historians of the period to which it refers, and we must look upon it altogether as one of the most promising first productions (for such we imagine it to be) that we have had since the "Richelieu" of Mr. James.

There are so many striking scenes of costume, and so many animated and brilliant sketches of the leading historical characters of the time in these pages, that, being puzzled to choose a fair without its being a too favourable example of the author's style, we shall take one from the opening pages of the work,-the rather that it includes both the above features.

"The change of sentries, and the gradual grouping of armed retainers about the palace of the Medici, gave the earliest signs of some intended forthcoming. At last came the stirring sounds of a military band; and the spectacle which that music heralded was one rarely seen in Florence. A troop of horse, barbed and panoplied, first wheeled into view, and their high-floating plumes, and the hereditary bearings of the various noble houses of the republic, worked upon the silken scarfs that crossed their shining corslets, or raised in silver upon various parts of their accoutrements, plainly told the rank of the noble youths who thus volunteered their escort, to one with whom all that was splendid was prized.

"Immediately following them, and taking precedence as they approached the palace, was the fancy body-guard of the magnificent Hippolito ;-Ethiopians, Numidians, Tartar bowmen, and the grave Turk, mingled, for the gratification of their youthful and learned leader, their various and gorgeous costumes, their arms, their languages, and their contrasting physiognomies. But the joy of his heart were their splendid Oriental dresses and their barbaric music. Gifted beyond most of his house with talents, which he misapplied in all ways that were whimsical, and wasted in the pursuit of unprofitable acquisitions, it was his boast that he could himself converse in the dialects of all, and rival their ablest performers on the various instruments of their national music.

"Led horses were in readiness for the immediate friends of the young princes, and for their august selves; and a sleek and sanctified-looking steed, which as yet bore none of the more cumbersome splendour of its companions, -whose crimson housings were decorated with raised work of gold, bearing the mingled emblems of high family consequence, and exalted church dignity, with sandaled stirrups, crimson trappings, and a feathery seat,-awaited with meek solemnity a rider with whom it had evidently compounded for reciprocal amity.

"Such was the immediate suite of the slumberers within. But whilst the interior arrangements of the palace were forming with becoming tardiness, a more numerous array was wheeling into view, from the various openings about the building, of armed horsemen, whose iron clothing had lost its brilliancy, but retained that grim and ferocious aspect which gives joy to the timorous, for whose services they are indued.

"Time wore on, and every avenue opening upon the front of the palace was at length closed by the assembled guard, and at last the trumpets gave signal for the throwing open of the portals. A crowd of gaily-apparelled nobles ushered forth the two youths in whom all the hopes of this proud family

centred.

"The elder of the two, distinguished by the style of "the Magnificent"—a title justly earned, and universally yielded to the head of the family whose taste, even in their minutest pleasures, was splendid-was the youth Hippolito, intended at that time for the future ruler of the city. Ile was a tall, thin stripling, scarcely more than fifteeen years of age, with a sallow cheek, and a restless, keen eye, which betrayed at a glance the unsteadiness and fickleness of the mind beneath. His movements were dignified and easy, his brow lofty, and his aspect generally, though aspiring, not wholly free from an expression of craft and suspicion.

"Most singular was the contrast afforded by the features of the youth who bounded past him with the agility of an antelope, and sprung into the saddle of a light barb whose limbs were scarcely more agile than his own. His bridle had been held by a youth a year or two his senior, of a grave mien and a downcast eye, and features marked in every line with characters of craft, dissoluteness, and cowardice.

"The youth to whom he tendered his services had addressed him as Lorenzino, his grave cousin :' he was one destined to seek fame in after life by a single deed; but it was one which sufficiently revenged itself upon the contempt with which his cousin now treated him; for scarcely had that youth reached the saddle, than a touch of his heel made the high-mettled barb rear, and fling the esquire many paces backwards amongst the men-at-arms.

"Alessandro de Medici was somewhat younger than his cousin Hippolito, yet of a frame of far more robust and mature outline. His limbs were long and muscular; his feet and hands large and clumsy; his hair, like his cousin's, was black; but whilst that of the latter was glossy, aud fell in heavy curls upon his rich velvet vest, all that could be perceived of his whom we are describing, was short, woolly, and tightly adhering to a skull of a shape the most animal that imagination can depict. His complexion was dusk, yet relieved with tints of an unhealthy yellow.

"Whatever suspicion might be excited by traits so little resembling those of a family as familiar to the memory as the moon and stars in Florence, the remainder of his features little tended to allay them; for his clubbed nose and thick lips offered even stronger grounds for the general report, which attributed his birth to an African mother, whose charms had numbered amongst a variety of conquests that of Pope Clement himself.

"Such was Alexander de Medici whilst the Cardinal of Cortona had the care of his tuition. What he afterwards became, many a ribald song, and many an execration, still exist to inform the reader, who may not as yet have drawn a moral from his career. With our immediate narrative it has little further import.

"When his glance had for a moment wandered over the escort of armed cavaliers who saluted him, it turned with somewhat of impatience to the doorway at which his Eminence of Cortona had not yet made his appearance. A movement of his bridle brought his high-blooded barb to the side of the patient palfrey which awaited the Cardinal, and the effect was an immediate and sympathizing restlessness, which appeared to excite no small mirth amongst the cortège.

"An increased bustle, and a cloud of ecclesiastical robes, ushered forth, at last, the presence of the guardian governor of the city. The Cardinal of Cortona stood upon the threshold of the palace, and a clash of blades sounded his salute. The sunbeams flashed from the helms and cuirasses of his followers, and revealed, as their blaze fell upon his heavy and ample features, an expres. sion not altogether of unruffled calm. There was little that attracted notice at any time to his countenance. There was not one of the many men of battle thus marshalled to attend him, nor indeed in the whole city, but knew him as a poltroon, or who attributed his abrupt manners and arrogant discourse to any tutoring of the camp, which was the usual school of princes in those days."-Vol. i., pp. 11-15.

So striking and spirited are the narrative portions of this work, that we had nearly forgotten to mention those incidental portions which introduce (and with excellent effect) several of the most distinguished men of the time connected with literature and art,-in particular Machiavelli and Michel Angelo Buonerotti.

LIFE OF THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.*

"THE Life of the Duke of Wellington!" Was ever phrase so pregnant of thoughts pointing at all that is high in achievement, mighty and multitudinous in immediate consequence, all-embracing in actual and existing results, and, in those which belong to that "all-hail hereafter," which is only limited by the limits of the habitable globe!

It need scarcely be said, that to write such a "Life" of the Duke of Wellington as befits the greatness of the subject, the time is not yet come; nor will it come until we of the present generation, who feel as it were a personal interest and concern in the great matters of which it must treat, have passed away from the scene. But it by no means follows that we are therefore to have no life of our great hero, or that we are to wait for it till he himself has gone to his immortality. In fact there never was a better time than the present for producing such a life of him as alone ought to be attempted for a century or so to come-a life that shall do, and attempt to do, nothing more than place in clear, distinct, and connected array before the world, those deeds, and their actual and immediate consequences, which make up the facts of Wellington's career: leaving all the social, moral, and political considerations which have arisen out of them, which are daily and hourly arising, and which will so arise for centuries to come,—to work their own way in the hearts and minds of the millions whom they so vitally concern. And such a life-so simple, yet comprehensive in its design, and so judiciously restricted in its execution-is that of Sir James Alexander, which has recently been in the course of publication in monthly numbers, and is now completed and reissued in two handsome volumes, extensively embellished with portraits and other illustrative plates. The materials of the work have been carefully prepared; it is clearly written, and well put together; and the result is a book of universal interest and attraction.

THE ART OF NEEDLEWORK.+

NOBODY Would complain of our fair countrywomen for being too "blue," if, like the writer of this charming little volume, they would confine their literary efforts to those topics which are peculiarly and essentially their

Life of Field Marsbal, His Grace the Duke of Wellington, embracing his Civil, Military, and Political career to the present time. Edited by Sir James Edward Alexander, K.L.S. Edited by the Countess of

The Art of Needlework from the Earliest Ages. Wilton. 1 vol.