to the acceptance of Him by whom they were allotted—that a true poet must look for the real recompense of his labours.

But when viewed as an adjunct,-as an intimation that he has chosen the proper line for the exercise of his powers, with its effect aided by a witness from within that it has been gained by no unworthy concessions,-fame is so far from being valueless, that the "non omnis moriar" may be the allowable origin of some of the purest and loftiest pleasures of which our nature is capable.

On the point of the right application of talent, we are, in the present instance, quite at ease. Of all the numerous sons of song, in whose presence our fathers rejoiced, there now linger but two or three upon the stage-and these, in general, though "among us are none of us," but appear to have hung up their harps to silence, while they, their masters, in the decline of life, quietly ruminate upon their former sweetness. Hence we hail with joy one who promises to assist in preserving to us our fair portion of living genius: and this is much heightened by our full conviction that, such being the case, he will also at the same time afford an additional example of the sometimes-forgotten truth that "the fire of genius never burns so brightly as when duly kindled at the altar of religion."

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Mr. Whytehead has recently left England, as we understand, in attendance on his diocesan, the Bishop of New Zealand; and his next notes must reach us, by distance made more sweet," across the broad bosom of the Atlantic. May it be granted to him to be instrumental, to his own desire, in the holy cause to which he is dedicated, and eventually, the desire of the greatest and best in all

Here to return, and die at home at last."

Thus wishing, we bid him for the present farewell.

ART. XV.-A Steam Voyage to Constantinople, in 1840-41.; and to Portugal, &c., in 1839. By C. W. Vane, Marquis of Londonderry. 2 vols. Colburn.

LORD LONDONDERRY's Steam Voyage to Constantinople was by the usual course and means in these days; ascending the Rhine, and descending the Danube; and halting at such cities and places on the route as the traveller may find time and inclination to regulate. Vienna could not be overlooked by the Marquis, nor made the scene of sojourn for only a day or two; seeing that his Lordship at one period was ambassador at the Imperial court, and found, among other old acquaintances, the celebrated diplomatist, Metternich, at the helm of affairs. Constantinople was a much stranger field for lion

izing, and really was well explored, and is amusingly described by the noble tourist; amusing from his particular character,his modes of thinking and speaking,-odd adventures, or at least odd from the manner in which the Marquis regarded them, and his peculiar opportunities, as compared with meaner and less privileged folks. From Constantinople he proceeded to Athens, the Ionian Islands, Malta, and Naples, in due order. It was at the last of these places that he heard of the fire at Wynyard Park, which incapacitated him from finishing the details of a tour. The tour to Portugal, Spain, &c. was prior to the Steam Voyage to the capital of the Grand Signior, and has been the subject of an earlier journal, parts of which, from manuscript copies, had got into Magazine circulation while in an unrevised and premature state. It was undertaken on account of Lady Londonderry's health, and conducted the Marquis to lands familiar to him during the Peninsular war. Her Ladyship also was of the party in the more important and recent voyage, without whom indeed the book would have been very considerably deficient, as compared with the information and entertainment which it actually furnishes.

It cannot be necessary to say much with regard to the manner and style of the Marquis as a traveller, an author, or a political character. One thing is certain,-his pages are never dull, however superficial or one-sided may be his views; nor is there ever any difficulty to understand what he means, or what he has done, however absurd may be the notions, or indiscreet the conduct. His Lordship is too honest and fearless to disguise a sentiment; too soldierlike to mystify by circumlocution the thing he would be at; although blunderbuss-like he frequently sends you such a storm of words as might have been made the vehicle of sundry pithy notions, instead of one that is trifling or feeble. We hasten to lay before our readers a few of the more racy subjects or descriptions; these consisting sometimes of historical characters or real novelties even in this age of travelling and journalizing; at other times of incidents that present more or less matter for gossip, but always having a mighty importance in the writer's estimation.

The Marquis had this advantage over most traveliers, he had many years ago traversed much of the ground which is presented to us in these volumes; and therefore, independently of his unusual means of access, was enabled to compare the past with the present in regard to much that every one desires to hear of, in whatever condition. Listen to him relative to Metternich, whom he must have known so well:—

Some account of the prince's present appearance and health, the more striking as I had not seen him since the Congress of Verona in 1823, may be generally interesting. His reception of me was kind and very courteous, though perhaps less warm than formerly, or than I expected to receive; but age blunts the

effervescence of early sentiments. The formal embrace on both cheeks was given in a more stately manner, the smile was more languid, and the eye less illumed. His person is more slight than formerly, his hair is of a more silvery hue, the features of his expressive face are more marked; the erect posture was still maintained, but the gait had become more solemn; and when he rose from his chair, he had no longer his wonted elasticity.

Such are the ravages of time on the frame in twenty years. But in the prince's conversation I found the same talent; the unrivalled esprit, the fluency and elocution, so entirely his own, were as graceful and the memory as perfect as at any former period

On this day I called on Prince Metternich, and had a most interesting conversation with him. He showed me around his official residence in Vienna, newly painted and done up with that purity of taste which characterizes the mind that directed the labour. The old apartments, which I so well remembered, having so often and so patiently danced attendance in them, were changed, and were now handsomely decorated. It is a strange point in the character of this celebrated statesman, how eagerly and minutely he interests himself in mere trifles, or rather the smallest minutiæ where art and mechanism is combined. I saw him one evening remain half an hour examining the interior of a small clock playing different airs.

When we had visited all the rooms, the prince turned to his cabinet du travail, and said, "He bien, mon cher ! voilà une partie, qui reste absolument la même comme le jour que vous l'aviez quittée." And actually, to the very place of the paper and despatches, sealing-wax and pencils, as laid on his writing table twenty years ago, and every surrounding article in the apartment, there appeared not the slightest change.

A

very old fool in love is our next character.

To return to less important matters. The Princess Metternich gave a soiree for the purpose of enabling us to hear Thalberg, the famous pianiste.

Nothing could surpass his execution and peculiar brilliancy of expression upon his instrument. He and Listz, another éléve of Metternich's, are the great rival players, and share the enthusiasm of the German musical world. Thalberg is generally preferred.

At this party I enjoyed another long conversation with Metternich, relative to an old and common friend of ours; alas, for his country and the world, now no more! I mean the celebrated Chevalier Von Genz. No one who has turned his attention to the political state of Europe for the last twenty years, can be ignorant of the great card this famous compiler and writer has played in the Allied Congresses and in the Councils of all the Cabinets.

Eleven years ambassador at Vienna had made me intimately acquainted with his singular abilities; and Metternich repeated to me once again, what I had often heard him say before, that he never knew a man, and believed none ever existed, who possessed such intellectual powers and such facility and felicity in giving expression to them.

Is it not then passing strange that this profound genius, this subtle politician, this phoenix of literature and composition, should have died actually from an overwhelming excess of the passion of love? and this too at an age when nature cools down the passions and bids them subside? for ho was near four

score: yet so the case stands. He imbibed a maddening attachment for Fanny Ellsler, the Vienna danseuse, then more partially known, but of late conspicuous both in England and America. Her early charms and fascinations turned the philosopher's brain. His habits of business wholly ceased; and on Prince Metternich's observing and reasoning with him upon this change, Gens assigned, as his formal excuse, "that he had been so thunderstruck with the resuit of the days of July, that from that moment he had given up Europe for lost, and was convinced that no effort could save the world from anarchy and confusion; and therefore he ceased to occupy himself with state affairs." Metternich argued with him, "that in proportion as greater dangers arose, so ought men of capacity to rise more energetically to the combat." But Gens then more candidly avowed, "that he had abandoned himself entirely to one engrossing feeling he proclaimed it-he gloried in it; he was fondly, passionately, desperately, eternally in love; and had only that existence and that deity."

On this opera-girl poor Gens lavished large sums of money; and whilst exhibiting his partiality, contracted debts, and ultimately died in penury and wretchedness. It is due, however, to this enchanting creature, Fanny Ellsler, to say that she behaved very kindly to him, and seemed vain at having subdued and attached a person of such high and undoubted genius. Prince Metternich related also that he was with his friend a few hours before he breathed his last, and that this individual, who was proverbially known to be so timorous that he dreaded his own shadow, nevertheless, by the force of the one predominant feeling, died with the greatest calmness and courage, declaring he embraced death as a relief from the devouring passion that consumed him. He thus departed, at the ripe age of fourscore, a victim to the affections!

Genz left behind him some beautiful sentimental letters in manuscript, addressed to his fair Dulcinea, breathing feelings stronger, perhaps, than ever were penned before. I could not obtain copies.

Even when his lordship has to speak of that which every tourist has an opportunity to examine, and is sure to make the topic of remark or criticism, he imparts some degree of novelty to it, merely through the colouring of the man. One sees the marquis almost in everything, who after all at any time is worthy of notice. We however think that, like his friend Metternich, there are signs of age setting in upon the noble author. Certainly, at least, he appears to be less of the cosmopolite than one would expect of a person of his travel and foreign experience; for there is in these volumes a tendency to be querulous and fault-finding, beyond what might have been looked for from an old campaigner. It is home, it is England with all her errors and evils,—and to which the marquis is not blind, discovering often much that is wrong, where most other people are disposed to be pleased, that is fit for a lord to live in. With respect to feeding, sleeping, travelling, and so forth, we have no competitors. Nay, even in the article of manners, the marquis encountered annoyances; and altogether his sensitiveness appears to have set strongly in against much that is continental. Would he choose Constantinople

for his head-quarters during the remainder of his life? Our readers may judge from the following bill of fare:

The living, or rather the materials which form the gourmand's larder at Paris, London, and Vienna, are all bad at Constantinople, or at best indifferent. Meat of all sorts inferior; only young white beef, poor mutton, no veal or pork. Fowls half-fed, hard, and bad-tasted, Butter, none to be had, nor tolerable milk, and this mostly from goats. Bread, from there being no yeast, from breweries or distilleries, is universally sour and nasty. There is no wine but what is imported; and, as great profit is made upon it, it is everywhere bad. The water at Pera is also brought from tanks, and unless filtered, is most disagreeable.

The vegetable and fruit market may be good in their season; and the fish in the Bosphorus is of various kinds, and excellent; the swordfish is particu larly esteemed. A certain fish with a black streak down its back is curious, but I did not think it good. Small gudgeons, mullet (red and gray,) whitebait, and lobsters, all capital. There is game, especially woodcocks and hares ; but except this one luxury of the table, this vast city is so unprovided that the great houses are actually obliged to import from other places every article of excellence, or that is usually found furnishing good tables elsewhere.

The pleasures of exercise are reduced to pedestrian perambulation on an infamous pave, or riding the streets on the horses that offer. There are no riding-schools, tennis-courts, or other manly exercises of any kind.

How then is the life of man accustomed to European tastes to be passed, or rather spun out, at Constantinople? He must sink into the indolence and insouciance of the Turks; turn to the fumes of tobacco, to sherbet, and coffee; and be satisfied without the harem, which seems the natural prerogative of the Mussulman.

The Tory traveller quarrelled deeply at Constantinople with the Whig ambassador at that court. The marquis desired to have a presentation to the sultan through the agency of Lord Ponsonby, and also by the same channel, permission for Lady Londonderry to visit the harem. The reply was a refusal couched in terms not over courteous. But the applicant was not a man to sit down quietly after a rebuff of this sort; and a pretty piece of correspondence with Lord Palmerston and others arose out of it; the traveller coming off, we think, triumphantly, in more senses than one; for what was refused by the representative of England, was granted by the ambassador of Austria; so that both requests were not only acceded to by a foreigner, but what is more, both of the rare ends were attained. We have not room for any of the descriptions of extraordinary things which the marquis saw; but must quote part of a speech and lecture delivered to the sultan, that no doubt sounded still more strangely to the eastern monarch, than anything could appear to the eyes of the

orator:

I added that I had now been serving my country thirty-five years, long before his Majesty was born, fighting always for legitimacy against revolutions