Изображения страниц
PDF
EPUB

will also penetrate deeper, for shot not only penetrate in proportion to their diameter, but as the squares of their velocities. The advantage of larger calibre moreover descends to the grape, canister, &c., all which are composed of heavier materials.

The eighteen-pounders on the main deck battery are nine feet long, and forty cwt. Their distance charge of powder is six lbs., gradually reduced to four lbs., the lowest three lbs. The carriage is six cwt., and the tackling, breeching, &c., about one cwt., making altogether forty-seven cwt. The recoil (about six feet six inches on a level platform) is regulated on the same principle as already described, the circumference of the breechen to sustain the shock being five and a half inches, and this is often broken, or the bolts that secure it to the ship's side drawn out, by the violence of the recoil. The grape for these guns is composed of balls of one lb. eight oz., and weighs nearly sixteen lbs. The canister contains forty-two balls of six oz., and the bag of musket-balls about four hundred. The range of 18's, 24's, and 32's, not varying very much, is generally taken under one head, called the range of long guns. The crew of the eighteen-pounder consists of ten men and a boy. We next arrive at the two nine-pounders on the forecastle; these are eight and a half feet long, and weigh twenty-three cwt. one qtr. The full charge is three lbs. of powder, reduced to two lbs. four oz., the lowest one lb. eight oz. The windage of these and the other long guns, already described, being great, is the reason for such large charges of powder, for a considerable portion of its expansive force is wasted by passing off around the sides of the shot. The carriage of the nine-pounder weighs four cwt., and the breechen is four and a half inches, weighing with the tackles about half a cwt.; being altogether about twenty-eight ewt. The capacity of this gun is much less than the heavier ones below, and its range smaller, for the reasons already explained; it is principally used for firing at suspicious vessels when in chase, to oblige them to heave-to (stop) to undergo an examination. The balls in the grape-shot for the nine-pounder weigh thirteen oz., and the whole complete seven lbs. six oz. The canister contains forty-four of three oz., and the bag of musket-balls about two hundred. The crew of the nine-pounder consists of eight men and a boy.

The seven carronades on each side of the quarter-deck are of thirty-two pounder calibre, four feet long, and weighing seventeen ewt. The full charge is one-twelfth of the shot's weight, or two lbs. ten oz.; the immense difference between this and ten lbs. eleven oz., the full charge of the long gun, is, first, on account of the smaller windage, and secondly, that these pieces are not designed to act at long ranges, but principally for close quarters, when, owing to their great calibre, they are much more destructive than long guns, for a long gun of this weight would only take a shot of six lbs.

Carronades are not mounted on carriages like guns, but on slides, weighing six cwt. two qtrs. fourteen lbs., on these they are worked, with great facility and quickness, by seven men and a boy; and, when not in use, these slides are so arranged as to take up but little space across the deck. The point blank range of a thirty-two pounder carronade is two hundred and fifty yards, and its long range, at five degrees elevation, one thousand yards, which is about the range of a long gun, with one degree of elevation only; giving the latter a far greater facility of aiming correctly in distant firing. There is no specified reduced charge for this piece, but the charge is generally reduced as the gun warms, and sometimes it is loaded with two shots, which is a dangerous practice, and strains the tackling and ship's side. As this gun has but a small recoil, its breeching is very stout, being nine inches in circumference, notwithstanding which it is frequently broken. The shot of different sorts used for carronades, are precisely similar to those fired from the long guns.

Having now described the nature and capability of the artillery on board, we shall enumerate the various weapons supplied for the use of the boarders, and small-armed men, postponing the manner of distributing them to be described under the head of Exercise." Over and above the muskets of the marines, one to each individual, one hundred muskets and bayonets, with cartridge-boxes, &c., complete, are allowed for arming the seamen. These are somewhat lighter than soldiers' muskets, being only eleven lbs. four oz. Besides these, there are seventy pairs of pistols, weighing six lbs. eight oz. per pair, two hundred cutlasses about five lbs. each, one hundred boarding-pikes, seven feet long, weighing four lbs., and sixty pole-axes, or tomahawks, weighing seven lbs. each. Seven thousand musket-ball cartridges, and two thousand pistol ditto, are supplied for the above, with some casks

of fine powder, and several cwt. of lead, for making more, when these are exhausted.

When the reader becomes acquainted with the imposing force which a ship possesses, not only as regards her artillery, but capable of being detached under cover of her guns, or, if need be, to a considerable distance, he will the more fully appreciate the value of fleets, which contain within themselves the elements for successful attacks upon places that are not strongly fortified; and it will also account for the conquests we have made and retained by our naval supremacy, in all parts of the world. An old author has truly remarked, that "he who commands the sea will always be obeyed on shore ;" and it is a fact, that, in the year 1747, the Dutch, with a squadron of ships, and 4000 troops on board, alarmed the whole coast of France, giving employment to full 100,000 soldiers, who were marched and countermarched from point to point, and harassed extremely, whilst the squadron sailed alongshore, now threatening one position and now another. But the estimation in which a ship of war should be considered, is more strongly portrayed by Monsieur Dupin, than in any language that we can express it; we shall therefore give a translation of his words. "If we would appreciate the real force of a ship of war, we must not say a ship is in battle a floating battery, with which we can securely kill or wound more than a fourth, or a fifth, or a tenth of the seamen of another ship of equal force. We should say a modern ship of war is a floating battery, which can only be compelled to yield to batteries of the same description. It is a fortress which is able to resist the sea, in all seasons, in the midst of every tempest. It is a fortress which transports itself with a rapidity infinitely superior to that of the lightest troops of a land army, in such a way, as to run over a fourth part of the great circle of the globe in less time than a continental army can pass from Spain to Poland, or from France to Russia. Now, when such immense marches are undertaken, the naval army experiences neither fatigues, nor privations, nor wants, nor the epidemics which destroy so many land armies. Without accident to her crew a ship of war passes the winter in the midst of the polar ice, in a degree of cold exceeding that which caused the destruction of the finest army that modern times have seen. In short, a naval force not only transports itself, exempt from suffering and fatigue, it also transports the land army, and communicates to it its own movements. By means of it the powers who have only a small number of soldiers, are enabled to multiply them by sudden and unexpected disembarkations, on the vulnerable points of an enemy's coast."

EXPLANATION OF SOME TERMS IN NAUTICAL GUNNERY.

WEIGHT OF METAL signifies the weight of iron which the whole of the guns are capable of projecting at one round from both sides, when single shotted.

BROADSIDE WEIGHT OF METAL means the same discharged from one side only, and in large ships amounts to just half of which traverse all around, and can be discharged on either side, the former. In open vessels, armed with guns on circular sweeps, the weight of metal is included in both broadsides. In short, broadside weight of metal means the weight that can be projected

from one side.

"ship's

CALIBRE, or caliber, is the diameter of the bore or barrel, and also the diameter of the shot. Thus we speak of a calibre" by the known weight which her armament represents. In. dec. pts.

The calibre of an 84-pounder is 10 00
8 05

68

[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

The reader will observe that sea ordnance is always distinguished by the above enumeration of weight, there being no such guns in the British service as 48-pounders, or 74-pounders, as frequently stated by persons palming their assumed knowledge on

the ignorant. This is one of the many touchstones by which pretension to nautical information is easily detected.

In order to afford facility in loading, the diameter of the shot is always somewhat smaller than the bore of the piece, and this difference is styled

WINDAGE, being usually thirty decimal parts of an inch in guns, and half that quantity in carronades, but varying materially, owing to the rusting of the shot, its inequality of surface, or malformation in the original casting.

The Axis is, as its name implies, an ideal line supposed to run along the centre of the bore.

POINT-BLANK is a term often confounded with horizontal, or rather used to imply horizontal firing, but it signifies that the gun is directed straight to the object, the mark aimed at being on a plane with the axis, which may be either above or below the horizon. POINT-BLANK DISTANCE is therefore no fixed measure, although it is generally implied by the space of three hundred yards, being the distance the majority of guns are capable of projecting their shot in a straight line, before the action of gravity becomes perceptible; but this space varies not only with the quality of the guns, but the amount of the charge of powder and nature of the missile. HORIZONTAL FIRING presumes the gun to be discharged when the axis is parallel to the surface of the water, and when the shot will (within the point-blank distance) strike any object if not higher than the platform from which it is fired. When the distance is greater it becomes necessary to resort to ELEVATION, which is attained by sinking the breech of the gun, and pointing the axis above the object, so that the shot may describe a parabola or curve (counteracting the action of gravity during its flight), and alighting upon the target. The amount of elevation necessary for the distance, which is either measured or assumed, is known by reference to tables calculated for guns and charges of all descriptions, and founded on the mean of a set of practical experiments.

[ocr errors]

SIGHTS, or more properly speaking, disparts, are now invariably fixed on the guns, on the top of the second reinforce ring (about the middle of the piece), in ships whose guns are discharged through port-holes. In open vessels, and steamers with heavy guns on circular sweeps, they should be placed on the top of the muzzle. Wherever placed, the height is easily obtained by measuring the gun at the breech, and the spot selected for the sight, and setting up half the difference of the diameter, which gives a line parallel with the axis of the piece at a single view, and dispenses with the necessity for referring to the side notches. Sights are made further available by means of a sliding pillar, on which is engraved a scale graduated to tangents of degrees; and thus as much elevation as the carriage and the port will admit can be set whenever required, regulated by the table of ranges, the distance being measured or assumed.

The space between the graduated lines upon the sliding pillar is governed by the length between it and the dispart patch, and the scale formed by the following rule:-Multiply the length in feet by twenty-two, the tangent of one degree to one foot being decimal twenty-two, or very nearly so; and observing this ratio the product will be the distance between each degree upon the scale, which may afterwards be graduated to half and quarter degrees.

The principle described is that known as "Millar's Sight," which is simple and as good as any, and this is the sort usually selected. The sights are fitted by workmen from the gun-wharf, but most officers take the precaution to test their accuracy by the above rule, or by constructing a mathematical figure.

THE BOOK OF THE WORLD.

Or this fair volume which we "World" do name,
If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care,
Of Him who it corrects, and did it frame,
We clear might read the art and wisdom rare,
Find out His power, which wildest powers doth tame,
His providence extending everywhere;

His justice, which proud rebels doth not spare,
In every page, no period of the same:
But silly we, like foolish children, rest

Well pleas'd with colour'd vellum, leaves of gold,
Fair dangling ribbands, leaving what is best,
On the great writer's sense, ne'er taking hold;
Or if by chance, we stay our minds on aught,
It is some picture on the margin wrought.

Drummond of Hawthornden.

THE ART OF PUFFING

THE skill, ingenuity, and profound knowledge of the weaker points of human credulity brought into play in the exercise (now universal) of puffing, places it at once in the rank of an art. Indeed, it had attained that distinction seventy years ago; for Dr. Johnson writes on "The Art of Advertising" in the fortieth number of "The Idler," and says, "The trade of advertising is now so near perfection, that it is not easy to propose any improvement." But when he was congratulating the puffers of his day on the perfection to which they had brought their art, it was, in reality, only in its infancy. The man whom he mentions as advertising "a wash-ball that had the wonderful quality of giving an exquisite edge to the razor," is immeasurably surpassed by the most common-place productions of the present generation of puffers and the vendor of "the beautifying fluid" he records "who, with a generous abhorrence of ostentation, confesses that it will not restore the bloom of fifteen to a lady of fifty," would be utterly ashamed of his modesty had he lived to witness the chemico-literary efforts of that genius whose "Macassar oil" covers bald heads with luxuriant locks, and fills newspapers with attestations of the fact. In short, if advertising was an art in Johnson's time, it has become, in the present day, one of the finest of the fine arts.

Resources of so high a character, and of such infinite variety, are drawn upon for the exercise of this art, that there is scarcely a branch of the sciences or a department of literature which is not employed in it. A physician, for instance, whose practice scarcely pays for the shoeing of the horses to his carriage (a puf upon wheels), writes a book upon physiology, or the measles, and may, perchance, like Byron, "wake one morning and find himself famous." An elaborate puff in a dozen volumes octavo, consisting of an English version of a Greek play, with notes, (aided by a laudatory critique in a leading review by the same hand), has been known to translate the translator from a lean rectory to a fat bishopric; and Mr. Robert Warren, of number thirty in the Strand, owes his celebrity and his affluence as much to the black muses as to the less ethereal article in which he trades; for, from the anthology he has published from time to time, may be selected epigrams better than Martial's, and lyrics equal to Moore's:-so excellent indeed, that it becomes a question whether anything that poets have sung in praise of love and war surpasses the verses which have been written to immortalise-blacking.

The grand end and aim of puffing is, of course, notoriety, and never did any invention so completely work out its object. Some men are celebrated for their greatness, either of soul or achievement; others again become celebrated (by dint of the utmost perseverance in puffing) merely for their notoriety; among the former we may number the Duke of Wellington and Lord Byron; with the latter must be classed a famous auctioneer and the proprietor of " Dalby's Carminative." Now, as to mere notoriety, there is no question but the auctioneer is nearly as well known by name to multitudes of readers as is the hero of Waterloo. Nay, even in the matter of greatness, the comparison holds good; for frequent perusals of the hammer-man's advertisements have convinced us that he is as great in his walk of life,—that is to say, in auctioneering-as the "great captain" is eminent in

war.

It

Hence, we need hardly add, Dr. Johnson was quite wrong: for the trade of advertising has been improved upon, and so extensively, we boldly affirm, as to have reached its acme. may be just possible some century hence to travel faster than one now does on the Birmingham railway; future voyagers may get to America in one week, instead of two, or lately six; and perhaps some future Watt may construct a machine to teach little children spelling, or to work out astronomical calculations, by means of cog-wheels; but the art of puffing is, we again assert, positively incapable of further improvement; for to such a pitch has it arrived, that it is impossible to eat, to drink, to walk, to ride, to dress, to read, to write, or (since the invention of the patent respirators) to breathe, without encountering a puff. Ex. gr. A double sheet of puffs is necessary to every Englishman's breakfast. We eat our dinners off so many vehicles for the puffs of the late respected Mr. Wedgewood. Every possible variety of beverage, from champagne to humble porter, is contained in a vessel adorned with advertisements, whether stuck on a Burgundy bottle, or engraved on a pewter pot. We cannot walk through a single street without observing that it is lined with puffs, either exhi. bited in shop-windows, or inscribed upon brass plates; the dead walls are plastered with puffs, and the trottoirs are paved with

them. We cannot ride in an omnibus or a cab without finding an advertisement hung up in it, or travel a few miles into the country, without encountering the persevering efforts of wallchalkers. As to dress, we are covered all over with puffs from the crown of the head to the sole of the foot; we tread upon a shoemaker's puff carefully pasted upon the inner sole, and are tiled with hatters' puffs stamped upon the lining of our beavers, or our gossamers, as the case may be; a tailor's puff is stitched under the collar of every coat, and we can't keep out the wet without advertising the house of Macintosh and Co. Then for reading what is a book written for but to puff off either the author or the subject? Books of travels are puffs for the living; biographies puffs for the dead; poetry is the medium for the puffs of sentimentalists; and a modern novel is the vehicle of puffs for patricians, and anti-puffs for "the vulgar;" many a medical book has been written to puff a patent medicine, and many a mechanical one to recommend a favourite invention; in fact, a book is an epitome of puffs. Lastly, to prove that one cannot write without a host of puffs impeding the current of thought, we need only mention that we are at this moment scribbling with a pen having "Tanner, London," impressed upon it, and that it is fixed into a holder which heralds the ingenuity of "S. Mordan and Co.," while the maker's name is either woven into, or stamped upon, every sheet of our paper in four different places. In short, whatever we do, wherever we go; whether we stand, sit, or lie; in sickness or in health; hungry or thirsty; at home or abroad, multitudinous legions of puffs surround, envelop, and settle upon us, "thick as the leaves that strew the vales of Valombrosa."

CELESTINA, A SPANISH STORY, BY FLORIAN. [Jean Pierre Claris de Florian was born of a noble family in the Cevennes, in 1753. His uncle was married to a niece of Voltaire; and, while young, Florian was taken to Ferney, and had the satisfaction of hearing Voltaire speak encouragingly of his talents. Afterwards he became page to the Duc de Penthièvre, who introduced him into the army, and otherwise befriended him. He quitted the army, and devoted himself to literature, producing, in 1783, the romance of "Galatea," in imitation of Cervantes: his mother being a Castilian, he was, by her means, familiar with the Spanish language. This work was followed by other productions; but for some time they did not attract much attention, until his fables, comedies, and short tales, made him exceedingly popular. revolutionary period, writing, during his incarceration, the romance of He was imprisoned during the "Guillaume Tell." He died in 1794.

Though Florian is deficient in power, and his "plots" are very inartificial, he is a pleasing writer, and his tales have considerable attraction for the minds. They were at one time very popular in England, in spite of the French tone of sentiment and feeling which pervade them, and which It must, however, be admitted, that

detract from their moral value.

Florian was a moral writer in a very immoral age; and he was a man of integrity, for he appropriated a portion of the profits of his writings to pay off family debts.]

cloak, and his faithful sword in his hand. He approaches the window, defended with strong bars on the outside and shutters within. But the shutters are gently unclosed, and the lovely Spaniard appears: her trembling voice awakes the low echoes of the night in a murmured inquiry if none is waiting beneath her window; her lover answers, vows are exchanged, and even kisses pass between the envious gratings. But the day is breaking—they must part: an hour is spent in breathing forth their passionate adieus; and they separate, leaving unsaid a multitude of things most necessary to be imparted.

Celestina's window was at the back of the house, and looked upon a piece of waste ground, around which were a few poor illbuilt houses belonging to the lowest class of people. Don Pedro's old nurse happened to live in a room immediately opposite to Celestina's window. This he determined to secure; he went to his nurse, and after blaming himself for having so long neglected her, he insisted on removing her to his own house. The poor woman, affected even to tears by the kindness of her foster-son, refused his offer at first; but, at length giving way, she left her old apartments to his care, and was installed at Don Pedro's house. Never was king more happy at taking possession of a throne, than was Don Pedro when he found himself installed in the miserable apartment abandoned by his nurse. He spent the day in watching the movements of his mistress, and the night in conversing beneath her window; but this happiness was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Henriquez, the intended husband of Celestina, who made his appearance bearing in his hand a declaration of love, written for him in Latin by his tutor.

That night an earnest consultation was held at the window, and meantime the contract of marriage was in preparation, and the marriage-day was fixed. A flight to Portugal was determined on as the only means to avoid so direful a catastrophe, and it was settled that they should get married as soon as they should reach Lisbon, and make terms with her guardian afterwards. Celestina was to provide herself with a casket of jewels which had been left her by her mother; this was of considerable value, and on its proIceeds they were to support themselves until their affairs were settled. Nothing was needed but the key of the grating, which Celestina undertook to procure. Eleven o'clock the next night was fixed for the escape. Pedro was to provide horses outside the gates, and was to meet Celestina at that hour, assist her in her descent, and fly with her to Portugal. Never was there a betterplanned elopement.

Don Pedro employed all the next day in making preparations for his departure. Celestina arranged and re-arranged her jewel-box twenty times over, and was particularly careful not to forget a beautiful emerald which her lover had presented to her. Celestina and her casket were quite ready by eight o'clock, and it was not quite ten when Pedro, who had sent his carriage forward, approached the rendezvous.

As he drew near, he heard a voice calling for help, and perceived

CELESTINA, in her seventeenth year, was the first beauty of Granada. She was an orphan, and the heiress of a large fortune; and lived under the guardianship of her uncle Alonzo, an old and avaricious man, who occupied his days in counting his ducats, and his nights in silencing the serenades with which his niece was each evening entertained. He designed her for his only son Henriquez, a notorious dunce. The beauty of Celestina was so great, that almost all the young cavaliers of Granada were in love with her, which she attended was crowded with young men. and as she was never to be seen except at mass, the church Don Pedro, a young man of twenty, and captain in a troop of horse, was pre-eminent. Handsome, gentle, witty, the eyes of all the ladies of Granada were attracted by him, whilst among them thihe saw only Celestina, and she, who could not avoid perceiving his eyes, and could not help replying by soft glances. hise, felt herself gradually influenced by the dumb cloquence of Thus passed a month, when Don Pedro found means to convey a letter to his mistress, informing her of what she already well nis cloak beneath Celestina's window. kenti. As grating, perceived him, and remarkably retentive memory, and did not forget a word of what impatience handed him the casket. remarkably to Don Pedro in great indignation. But she had a mistaking him for Pedro, called gently to him, and full of joy and to read, and Celestin every paragraph. But Don Pedro had perseverance, and bravo, hearing these words, eagerly her window, according to the Spanish fashion, where windows are Celestina had charity, and at length consented to talk to him at off without speaking a word; and whilst Celestina was getting out, of more service by night than by day, and are the old-established prise of poor Celestina when she found herself alone in the street, meeting-places of impassioned lovers. There, when the street is and could nowhere perceive him whom she had mistaken for Don deserted, the lover appears, gliding cautiously along, muffled in his Pedro! Her first idea was that he had gone forward for fear of

undefended: he drew his sword and rushed to their assistance; he

two men attacked by five bravos, who, armed with swords and bludgeons, were on the point of overpowering them. Pedro's natural bravery would not allow him to leave the weaker party quickly wounded two of the assailants, and the others took to dight. What was his surprise in recognising in the men he had preserved no others than Don Alonzo and his son Henriquez! The young cavaliers of the town who were enamoured of Celestina, and were aware that she was about to be married to Henriquez, had been base enough to hire assassins to destroy him; and, but for Amongst these, the of Don have succeeded in their design. Pedro did his best to disembarrass himself from their acknowledg ments, but Henriquez, who prided himself on having acquired politeness at Salamanca, insisted on carrying him home and keeping him there all night." Pedro was in despair, for the clock had already struck cleven. Alas! he did not even guess the extent of

his misfortune.

One of the bravos who ran from the fray, passed muffled up in
It was a dark

and

"Take these Don

me whilst I descend."" The snatched the casket, and made

he had already fled to a distance. What was the terror and sur

exciting suspicion by standing beneath the window, and she followed the way she supposed him to be gone, calling him softly as she hastened along. No answer was returned, and she was seized with terror. What should she do? Should she return to her uncle's house, or should she leave the city and endeavour to find the servants who were waiting for Don Pedro ! She balanced these doubts in her mind, but could not determine. Still she walked onward: she soon became bewildered, and knew not where she was. Presently she met a man, and inquired of him if she was near the city gate. He pointed out the way to her. This gave her courage: she hastened onwards, and soon was beyond the walls of Granada, but she could not discover any one in waiting. She had no thought of blaming or misdoubting her lover: she hoped each moment was bringing her nearer to him; and she pursued the highway, trembling at each bush, and calling on Don Pedro at every step. But the farther she went, the farther was she from the right track. She had left the city by the gate directly opposite to the road to Portugal.

Meantime, Don Pedro could not disengage himself from Henriquez and his father. They would not quit him, and absolutely forced him to enter the house with them; and Pedro, hoping that Celestina would hear of his arrival, reluctantly complied. Alonzo went directly to his niece's room, to tell her of the danger from which her intended husband had so fortunately escaped. He called, but received no answer: he entered, and was horrified when he beheld the open window. His cries soon brought the servants, and the alarm was given all over the house. Pedro, in despair, declared he would run to seek her; and Henriquez, thanking him for his friendly sympathy, prepared to accompany him. But Pedro avoided this by proposing that they should take different roads; and not doubting that Celestina had taken the road to Portugal, he offered to seek her in that direction, and proposed that Henriquez should pursue the opposite path.

The unhappy Celestina was on the road to the Alpuxaras, when she thought she heard the sound of horses' feet. Her first thought was that Don Pedro was seeking her, but her second was the fear of travellers or brigands; and, trembling with terror, she crept behind a bush by the road-side, from whence she beheld Henriquez and several attendants pass by. Dreading to fall once more into the power of Alonzo, she turned from the high road, and plunged into the surrounding wood. The Alpuxaras are a chain of mountains extending from Granada to the sea; they are inhabited only by shepherds and labourers. An arid and stony soil, a few chesnut-trees scattered here and there, torrents, and roaring waterfalls, and a few goats wandering among the summits of the mountains, were the objects beheld by Celestina in the first light of the morning. Worn out with grief and fatigue, and her feet wounded by the rough stones, she seated herself on a rock, beside which trickled a little rill. The silence of the place,-the wild country around her, the sound of many waterfalls subdued by distance, and the murmur of the rill falling into the basin it had worn, all united to remind poor Celestina of her unhappy fate abandoned in a desert by all the world. Her tears fell fast as she reflected on her situation, but she thought more of Don Pedro. "It was not to him," thought she, "that I gave the diamonds. How was it that I could mistake him? Ah! why did not my heart warn me that I was wrong? I know he is seeking me; he weeps far away from me, and I shall die far from him!"

friend," said she, "you have no money, and you will need it. I have a few pieces of gold, which I will divide with you, if you will give me the dress in your bundle." The goatherd accepted her offer. Celestina gave him twelve ducats, and, after receiving directions as to the road to Gadara, took leave of the goatherd, and, retiring among the rocks, put on the dress she had purchased.

Thus equipped, she took the road to the village, and, entering the market-place, inquired of the peasants she found assembled there, if none of them wanted a farm-servant. They gathered round her, and looked at her with surprise: the young girls especi. ally admired her beautiful fair hair, which flowed over her shoulders; her mild, sparkling eyes, modestly cast down; and her light, slender figure. Nobody could imagine where this beautiful young man could have come from. One supposed it was a great lord in disguise; another, that it was a prince who had fallen in love with a shepherdess; and the magistrate assured them that it was Apollo, who had returned a second time to take care of their sheep.

Celestina, who had taken the name of Marcelio, was not long in finding a master; no other than the old alcalde of the village, who was regarded as the most worthy man in all the country. This good farmer (for the alcaldes of the villages are not of higher rank) soon conceived a great friendship for Marcelio. Before a month had elapsed, he took him from the care of his flock, and put all his household under his charge; and Marcelio acquitted himself with such mildness and fidelity as to be beloved by both master and servants. At the end of six months, the alcalde, who was more than eighty years old, left the whole care of his property to Marcelio; he even consulted him on the causes which came before him for his decision, and he had never made such just decrees as since he had been directed by Marcelio. Marcelio was the pattern and the delight of the village; his mildness, his grace, his wisdom, gained all hearts. "Behold," said the mothers to their sons,- -" behold this handsome Marcelio: he is always with his master; he is unceasingly occupied in making his old age happy, and does not, like you, leave his work to run after the village girls."

Thus two years passed away. Celestina, whose thoughts were always occupied with Don Pedro, had secretly sent a shepherd, on whom she could rely, to make inquiries at Granada concerning her lover, Alonzo, and Henriquez. The shepherd reported that Alonzo was dead, that Henriquez was married, and that nothing had been heard of Don Pedro for two years. Celestina now lost all hope of ever seeing him again, and endeavoured to accustom herself to her lot, and to find happiness in the peace and friendship she enjoyed in the village. The old alcalde at length fell dangerously ill. Marcelio paid him all the attentions of the most affectionate son, and the good old man behaved like a grateful father, and at his death left all his property to his faithful Marcelio.

All the villagers mourned their alcalde, and, after rendering him the funeral honours with more tears than pomp, they assembled to elect his successor. In Spain, certain villages possess the privilege of electing their alcaldes, that is to say, the magistrate who judges all suits, takes cognizance of all crimes, causes the guilty to be taken into custody, examines them, and delivers them over to the superior jurisdiction, which generally confirms the sentence passed by the alcalde.

Her mournful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound The assembled villagers unanimously elected him whom the old of a flute, and presently she heard a sweet but uncultivated voice alcalde had designed for his successor. The old men, followed by singing a rustic air, in which the fleeting pleasures of love are all the youngsters of the village, went in formal procession to carry deplored, and the inconstancy of a lover was complained of. the ensign of his dignity, a white wand, to Marcelio. Celestina Celestina rose to discover the musician, and at no great distance accepted it; and, affected even to tears with this testimony of the she discovered a young goatherd, sitting beneath a willow, watch-affection of these honest people, she resolved to consecrate her life, ing with tearful eyes the water that flowed at his feet: he held a formerly destined for love, to their happiness. flute in his hand, and by his side lay a stick and a small bundle wrapped up in a goat-skin.

"You seem to be abandoned and cast off," said Celestina to the stranger: "take pity on one who, like yourself, is so also. Direct me, I beg of you, to some house or village among these mountains, where I may find, not repose,-that, alas! is impossible,-but food."

"Alas, madam!" replied the goatherd, "I would with pleasure conduct you myself to Gadara, which lies behind these rocks; but you would not desire me to return, if you knew that my mistress is to be married this day to my rival. I am about to leave these mountains, never more to return; and I carry nothing with me but my flute, a suit of clothes in this bundle, and the remembrance my lost happiness."

of

These words inspired Celestina with a new design. "My

Leaving the new alcalde busy with the cares of office, let us return to the unfortunate Pedro, whom we left galloping on the road to Portugal, and at each step increasing the distance from his beloved.

He reached Lisbon without obtaining any intelligence of Celestina. He retraced his steps, and made every possible research, and returned again to Lisbon with no better fortune. After six months of fruitless inquiry, he felt satisfied that Celestina had not returned to Granada, and he resolved to go to Seville, where he knew she had relations. He found, on his arrival, that they had just sailed in the Mexican fleet; and, doubting not that there he should recover his long-lost mistress in Mexico, he hastened on board the last vessel in the fleet, which was on the point of sailing. He arrived safely, discovered the relations of Celestina, but they knew nothing concerning her. He

returned to Spain: the vessel encountered a storm, and was wrecked on the coast of Granada. Don Pedro and some others of the passengers escaped, and, proceeding into the mountains in search of shelter, were led by chance or Cupid to Gadara.

Don Pedro and his companions went into the first inn they came to; and they were congratulating each other on their escape, when a dispute arose between one of the passengers and a soldier, concerning a casket which the soldier had saved and the passenger claimed as his property. Don Pedro, who endeavoured to settle the quarrel, proposed that the passenger, in order to prove his claim, should state what the box contained; which was done, and the box opened to ascertain if what was said were true: but what was the surprise of Don Pedro when he recognized Celestina's jewels, and among them the emerald he had given her!

"How did you come by these jewels?" he demanded of the passenger, in a voice of fury.

"What is that to you?" replied the pretended owner, "it is enough that they belong to me;"-and so saying, he attempted to snatch them from Don Pedro, who repulsed him, and both drawing their swords, they fought, and after a few passes the passenger fell wounded. Don Pedro was seized and hurried to prison, and the master of the inn sent his wife to fetch the curé to attend the dying man, whilst he himself ran with the casket to the alcalde, and informed him of what had happened.

What was the surprise, the joy, the terror of Celestina, on recognizing her diamonds, and hearing that they had been challenged by the gentleman who was in custody! She went at once to the inn, where the curé had already arrived; and the wounded man, who believed himself dying, affected by his exhortations, acknowledged to the alcalde that, two years before, as he was passing at night through a street in Granada, a woman at a window gave him the casket, telling him to hold it while she came down; that he ran away with the jewels, and he begged pardon of God for the robbery. Celestina hastened to the prison: how her heart beat as she went! She quickened her steps: everything proved that it was Don Pedro whom she was about to behold, but she feared being recognised by him. She pulled her hat down over her eyes, muffled herself in her cloak, and, preceded by a turnkey who carried a light, she entered the dungeon.

She was scarcely at the foot of the stairs when she recognised Don Pedro. Joy almost took away her senses. She leaned against the wall; her head declined on her shoulder, and the tears flowed down her cheeks. By a great effort she repressed her emotion, and forcing herself to speak boldly, she approached the prisoner. "Stranger," said she, in a feigned voice, and often pausing to take breath, "you have wounded your companion, it is feared to death. What have you to say to excuse such an action?" After speaking these words she could no longer support herself, but, sitting down on a stone, covered her face with her

hands.

"Alcalde," replied Don Pedro, "I have committed no crime; it was but an act of justice; but I desire death, for death alone can end the misfortunes of which that wretch was the first cause." He said no more, but the name of Celestina was heard upon his lips. Celestina trembled when she heard him pronounce her name: she was no longer mistress of her transport; she rose, and was on the point of throwing herself into the arms of her lover, when the presence of the gaoler restrained her. She turned away her eyes, and, stifling her sobs, desired to be left alone with the prisoner. She was obeyed. Suffering her tears of joy to flow more freely, she now approached Don Pedro, and taking him by the hand, she said, in a voice interrupted by her sobs, "You still love her, who lives but for you?"

At that voice, at those words, Pedro raised his head, and scarcely dared to believe his eyes: "Oh, heaven, is it you? is it my Celestina, or an angel who takes her figure? Ah, it is thee!"' cried he, pressing her in his arms, and bathing her with his tears: "it is my wife, my friend-all my misfortunes are ended."

And it was so. As the wounded man proved likely to recover, Celestina had power to restore Don Pedro to liberty, and, assembling all the villagers, she publicly declared her sex and her adventures, and resigned her office; and presenting Don Pedro to them as her intended husband, requested the curé to complete her happiness by uniting them. But now one of the old villagers stepped forth."Oh, stranger," said he, "why will you take from us our alcalde? his loss we cannot repair. Condescend to remain with us; be yourself our alcalde, our master, our friend. In a great city, the cowardly and the wicked, who have the same rank,

will think themselves your equals ;-here, each virtuous inhabitant will look upon you as a father."

Pedro, whose wanderings had made him well inclined to rest, and who loved the people by whom his Celestina was so honoured, consented. Two days after, the lovers were married, and never was a bridal feast celebrated more blithely. Pedro paid one more visit to cities, and then bade adieu to them for ever. He visited Granada, and, after a tedious process, succeeded in recovering his wife's fortune from Henriquez: he then retired to Gadara, where he and Celestina lived long, well, and happily. They were mourned for by those who looked upon them with love and veneration, and their memory is revered to this day.

HISTORICAL EPISODES.

CLANDESTINE MARRIAGE OF THE EARL OF HERTFORD AND LADY CATHERINE GREY.

HENRY THE SEVENTH-he who won the fight of Bosworth, and twined the roses of York and Lancaster-had a daughter (sister, of course, of Henry VIII.) who, after being married for three months to Louis XII. of France, married the Duke of Suffolk. From this marriage sprang a daughter, who married Henry Grey, Marquis of Dorset, afterwards created Duke of Suffolk; and these were the parents of a family of daughters, the eldest of whom-the accomplished, amiable, and unfortunate Lady Jane Grey,-is well known to all readers of English history.

It was the ambition of her parents that caused the ruin of Lady Jane Grey. The hereditary right to the throne, though very well understood, and even acted on, was still not so distinctly defined as to prevent attempts to secure that glittering temptation, the crown. The wars between the houses of York and Lancaster were waged on mingled notions of hereditary right and the right of power or possession; and, though Henry VII. may be said to

have settled the succession, and to have left a secured crown to his son, Henry VIII., the latter, by his repeated marriages, divorces, and the passing of acts of illegitimacy against his own children, did much to disturb opinion about the right of succession. Moreover, when Edward VI. was dying, he was prevailed upon by the Duke of Northumberland to make a will, excluding his sisters, Mary and Elizabeth, from the throne, and settling the crown on Lady Jane Grey, the eldest daughter of the Suffolk family, who was married to a son of Northumberland's. Lady Jane Grey's mother, who was a niece of Henry VIII., gave up her right in favour of her daughter; but Lady Jane herself gave a very reluctant assent to the ambitious scheme of her father and father-in-law. Mary became queen, almost without a struggle; and Lady Jane Grey, along with her young husband, was involved in the ruin of a project to which she could hardly be said to have been a party.

Some years afterwards, we find Lady Catherine Grey, a sister of Lady Jane's, at Elizabeth's court, in the capacity (seemingly) of a maid of honour. She had been married to Lord Herbert, a son of the Earl of Pembroke ; but the earl, fearful of all connexion with royal blood, especially under such a jealous reign, procured an immediate divorce. But Lady Catherine herself, doubtless, saw no reason why the "blood royal" that ran in her veins should be a cause of exclusion from a participation in the enjoyments of social and domestic life; so she entered into a secret contract with the Earl of Hertford, whose sister, Lady Jane Seymour, was a companion of Lady Catherine's at court. "The queen went one morning to Eltham to hunt, when Lady Jane and Lady Catherine, according to previous concert, leaving the palace at Westminster by the stairs at the orchard, went along by the sands [it would be hard to go along the river-side by the sands now-a-days,] to the earl's house in Canon-row. Lady Jane then went for a priest, and the parties were married. The earl accompanied them back to the water-stairs of his house, put them into a boat, and they returned to the court time enough for dinner in Master Comptroller's chamber. Having consummated his marriage, Lord Hertford travelled into France. 11*

But whisperings began to run through the court; and Lady Catherine, aware that the matter could not be kept from the sharp ears of the queen," first confessed it privately to Mrs. Sentlowe, and afterwards sought Lord Robert Dudley's chamber, to break out to him that she was married, in the hope of softening the anger

* Ellis's Original Letters, Second Series, vol. ii.

« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »