paigne); and in those days trade was not absolutely stagnant, nor all the landholders absentees. A tradesman therefore might by possibility afford to relax. Now-a-days, God save the mark! if the King of Dawkey were to re-appear, his retinue would be mistaken for an execution and a "berring." But woe is me! the kingdom of Dawkey is now laid low. It is gone to join the Rhenish confederacy, the Cis-alpine republic, the kingdoms of the Ptolemies, of the Lusignans and the Iturbides: and its gaiety is a sound that is heard no more. A truce, however, with gloomy reflections. When the citizens, as Homer has it, "had made an end of eating and of drinking," they returned to Dublin as well as they could; not always in perfect right lines, but joyously and merrily and the next day things entered into their usual train, in a patient expectation of the due recurrence of the anniversary. It is on record that for many successive years the people of Dawkey remained contented with their king, Armitage, and never felt a desire to place the crown on another head. Of how many other of the kings of Europe the same may be affirmed, I will not venture to say. It is enough for a loyal Englishman to answer for one. M.

AN HOUR OF ROMANCE.

THERE were thick leaves above me and around,

And low sweet sighs, like those of Childhood's sleep,
Amidst their dimness, and a fitful sound,

As of soft showers on water: dark and deep

Lay the oak-shadows o'er the turf, so still,

They seem'd but pictured glooms!-a hidden rill
Made music, such as haunts us in a dream,

Under the fern-tufts; and a tender gleam

Of emerald light, as by the glow-worm shed,

Came pouring through the woven beech-boughs down,
And steep'd the magic page wherein I read

Of royal Chivalry and old Renown;

A tale of Palestine !-Meanwhile the bee
Swept past me with a tone of summer hours,
A drowsy bugle, wafting thoughts of flowers,
Blue skies, and amber sunshine: brightly free
On filmy wings, the purple dragon-fly
Shot glancing like a fairy javelin by;
And a sweet voice of sorrow told the dell
Where sat the lone wood-pigeon.-

But ere long,

All sense of these things faded, as the spell
Breathing from that high gorgeous tale grew strong
On my chain'd soul!-'twas not the leaves I heard-
-A Syrian breeze the lion-banner stirr'd

Through its proud floating folds !—'twas not the brook
Singing in secret through its grassy glen-

—A wild shrill trumpet of the Saracen

Peal'd from the Desert's lonely heart, and shook

The burning air!-Like clouds when winds are high,

O'er glittering sands flew steeds of Araby,
And tents rose up, and sudden lance and spear
Flash'd where a fountain's diamond wave lay clear,
Shadow'd by graceful palm-trees!-Then the shout
Of merry England's joy rang freely out,

Sent through an Eastern heaven, whose glorious hue
Made shields dark mirrors to its depths of blue
And harps were there-I heard their sounding strings,
As the waste echoed to the mirth of Kings!

-The bright masque vanish'd!-unto life's worn track
What call'd me from its world of glory back?

-A voice of happy Childhood!—and they pass'd,
Banner, and harp, and Paynim trumpet's blast!
Yet might I scarce bewail the splendours gone,
My heart so leap'd to that sweet laughter's tone!

F. H.

REMARKABLE PAMPHLETS.-NO. I.

Burning of Moscow.*

We are not sufficiently versed in the calculations of criticism, to assign exactly the period which puts a work out of its reach. We believe reviewers acknowledge no copyright that retrospection should hold sacred; nor do we know of any regulated limits for size any more than age. A folio should have, it might be thought, a longer rate of existence allowed it in the critical world than a duodecimo; but we suspect no literary insurance-office would be inclined to judge of the life of a book from its bulk. Pamphlets, on the other hand, seem, in their light and flimsy appearance, ready, like young winged chrysalis, to fly out of the public mind almost as soon as they come into its sight; yet we often find matter of more enduring stuff in these thin brochures than in nine-tenths of the unwieldy leviathans which flounder in the seas of literature. The late M. Courier, who was the best pamphletwriter in France, and perhaps in the world, asserted stoutly the dignity of the genre which he elevated so highly, by his talents rather than by his arguments. He maintained that the orations of Demothenes should be considered only as spoken pamphlets; but he might, without the aid of paradox, have been content with the indisputable fact, “that the Provincial Letters" of Pascal found their way to immortality in the form which has ushered his own writings to their deserved celebrity. We might cite many other remarkable productions which have appeared in this humble way, to justify the attention which we mean to bestow, from time to time, upon those which we may catch in their migration from the press to the pastry cook's. But, in the present instance, we shall waive all ceremonious excuses, and merely tell our readers that our two-fold reason for noticing Count Rostopchin's little production so late after its appearance, is because we have not seen it even alluded to in any English publication, great or small, and because we consider it entitled to rank, from various causes, as the most "remarkable” of modern pamphlets.

The burning of Moscow, as attributed to its Governor and its inhabitants, was certainly the finest fiction of modern days, and was, perhaps, unrivalled by the most splendid extravagancies of antiquity. There was so much savage grandeur in such an act, and so many elements of heroism, that had it been, as was believed, a sacrifice of individual to national good, it would have been the proudest monument ever raised to a country's glory. It was one of those sublime delusions

* "La verité sur l'Incendie de Moskou, par le Comte Rostopchine. Reponse à la Brochure, de M. le Comte Rostopchine. Lettres sur l'Incendie de Moskou, par l'Abbé Surrugues. Paris."

of which it is a pity to rob the world; for those occasional romantic aberrations from the rule of modern rights, seem necessary to keep us above the matter-of-fact level to which men seem to be sinking. The sacredness of historical truth may be urged against this reasoning; but we doubt very much whether, even on that score, the great catastrophe in question might not have been advantageously left in its original wild and impressive reputation. The real benefit of history is to give good lessons to mankind. A fiction received as fact, is just as effectual for that purpose as fact itself, and it may be well that we cannot sift the truth of many of those examples which probably owe their assumed veracity to the forbearance of individuals more considerate towards posterity than is Count Rostopchin. The destruction of their capital city by a great population to insure the defeat of an invading enemy, would have been an electrifying stimulant in after-ages-but Moscow reduced to ashes by a combination of inglorious accidents, lets us down from our elevation, and instead of an imposing spectacle of human virtue, presents a humiliating picture of common-place calamity. It is the latter which Count Rostopchin holds up to our view; and it is on this account, independent of weightier reasons, that we look with an evil eye upon him and his pamphlet.

It would not, however, be fair wholly to identify the author with his work. As far as personal conduct went, he acted with unexceptionable firmness and devotion. He commanded the burning of his castle, and he does not deny the report which gave him the credit of applying the torch with his own hand. He was certainly, by his vigorous weasures, the chief instrument of the ruin which burst upon the French army; and he may be contented to go down to posterity unlike the incendiary of Ephesus, whose fame or infamy is borne to us on the flames of a conflagration. We still think that nothing derogatory would have attached itself to the author of an act so consistent with the desperate circumstances of the Russian empire, or the semicivilized spirit of the contest. But the Count's ambition makes itself evident throughout his pamphlet-as far advanced before the actual progress of his own country, as it is lamentably behind that of others. Count Rostopchin has unequivocally enrolled himself in the ranks of French Ultraism, and would be gladly placed, we must believe, within the limits of its retrograde refinement. He has lugged, head and shoulders, into his brochure a confession of political faith, uncalled for and insignificant, having no connexion with his main subject, and being in nothing distinct from the ravings of his prototypes. He has a fling to at the memory of Napoleon. But for this we cannot blame him. The dead lion lay across his path, and the kick was an obvious consequence.

It is not a little curious to observe the reciprocal pertinacity with which Napoleon strove to fix on the Count, and the Count to shake off, the responsibility of this remarkable event. It was natural that the baffled Emperor should wish to hold up the Governor to the odium of the world; but it was a rare instance of his mistaking the estimate of public opinion. It would, on the other hand, be quite gratifying to remark the Count's anxiety in the cause of truth, were it not evident that he had a notion that he was clearing himself from a foul imputation, instead of robbing himself of a glorious fame. But neither Rostopchin nor Napoleon seems to have understood that what would have been in the latter a flagrant atrocity, was in the other a sublime duty,

But the motives of these chief actors are trifling in point of interest to the drama itself: and our great object is, if possible, to come at the whole truth (which the Count's pamphlet cannot give us) as to that most wonderful and interesting event. Much light remains to ve thrown on the real circumstances. The Count's example has been followed. Two other pamphlets have appeared subsequently to his, and others may follow them. Since we are not to be allowed unlimited belief in the magnificent romance, we may be yet enabled to establish the details of the yet unexplained reality.

The accusation preferred against Count Rostopchin by Napoleon was contained in the twentieth bulletin of the French army, dated at Moscow, September 17th, 1812. It was, in that remarkable document, unequivocally stated and frequently repeated in others, that "Trois à quatre cents brigands ont mis le feu dans la ville en cinq cents endroits à la fois par l'ordre du gouverneur Rostopchine." This main charge was followed by many collateral accusations; such as having abandoned the sick in the hospitals, reduced the citizens to beggary, retarded the Russian empire a century in its advances to civilization, &c. These concomitant effects neither add to nor detract from the force of the chief charge. Such a deed was not to be done without terrible attendant evils. It was in itself either magnificent or atrocious. It moved, like a great magician, surrounded by familiars both of good and ill; and we note those after charges merely to shew how the attack of Napoleon varied on this tremendous subject from his usual condensed and isolated energy.

Several minor points of evidence were adduced in support of the charge; but the most material of these corroborative proofs was the asserted confession of the 300 incendiaries, said to have been taken with torches in their hands, as to their having been employed by Rostopchin, and the fact of his having caused the fire-engines to be removed from the city.

With regard to the confession of the incendiaries, our author exclaims,

"Voici une preuve qu'on a présentée comme certaine et convaincante, car elle est revêtue d'un jugement, des aveux des condamnés et de l'exécution des incendiaires. Napoléon annonce, dans son vingtième bulletin, qu'on a pris, jugé et fusillé des chauffeurs; que tous ces malheureux avaient été pris sur le fait, munis de matières combustibles et mettant le feu par mon ordre.

"Le vingtième bulletin annonce que c'étaient trois cents malfaiteurs qui avaient mis le feu en cinq cents endroits à la fois. Ce qui est matériellement impossible. Peut-on d'ailleurs supposer que j'eusse donné la liberté aux malfaiteurs, détenus dans les prisons, à condition d'incendier la ville, et que ces gens eussent exécuté mes ordres pendant mon absence, devant toute une armée ennemie? Mais je vais convaincre tous ceux qui se rendent à l'évidence, qu'il n'y a jamais eu de malfaiteurs employés.

"A mesure que dans sa marche l'armée de Napoléon s'approchait d'une ville de gouvernement, les gouverneurs civils vidaient les prisons et expédiaient les malfaiteurs pour Moscou, sous l'escorte de quelques soldats. Il arriva de là qu'à la fin du mois d'août, les prisons de Moscou renfermaient les prisonniers des gouvernemens de Witepsk, de Mohilow, de Minsk et de Smolensk. Leur nombre, compris ceux du gouvernement de Moscou, montait à huit cent dix individus, qui, sous l'escorte d'un bataillon pris dans un régiment de garnison, furent envoyés à Nigent-Nowgorod, deux jours avant l'entrée de l'ennemi à Moscou. Ils arrivèrent au lieu de leur destination; et, au commencement de l'année 1813, le sénat, pour éviter l'incon

vénient de renvoyer tous ces accusés dans leurs gouvernemens respectifs, donna ordre aux tribunaux civils de Nigent-Nowgorod, de faire et de finir leurs procès. "Mais le procès fait aux incendiaires, qui fut imprimé (et dont j'ai encore un exemplaire), annonce qu'on avait fait comparaître trente individus, dont chacun est nommé, entre lesquels treize, étant convenus avoir mis le feu à la ville par mon ordre, furent condamnés à mort. Cependant, selou les vingtième et vingt-unième bulletins, on en a fusillé d'abord cent, et après encore trois cents A mon retour de Moscou, j'ai trouvé et parlé avec trois des malheureux du nombre des trente désignés dans le procès: l'an était domestique d'un prince Sibirsky, et qui avait été laissé dans sa maison; l'autre, un vieux balayeur du Kreml; le troisième, un gardemagasin.

"Tous les trois, questionnés séparément, m'ont dit la même chose en 1812 et deux ans après, c'est-à-dire qu'ils furent arrêtés les premiers jours de septembre (vieux style), l'an pendant la nuit dans la rue, les deux autres au Kreml, en plein jour. Ils restèrent quelque temps au corps-de-garde, dans le Kreml même ; ensuite un matin on les conduisit avec dix autres Russes aux casernes du quartier qui se nomme le Champ-des-Demoiselles On leur adjoignit dix-sept autres individus ; et, ils furent amenés sous une forte escorte, devant le couvent de Pétrowsky, qui est sur le boulevart. Là ils attendirent à peu près une heure, après quoi beaucoup d'officiers arrivèrent à cheval, et mirent pied à terre. On rangea les trente Russes sur une ligne, et après en avoir compté treize par la droite, on les plaça coutre le mur du couvent, et on les fusilla. Leurs corps furent attachés aux réverbères, avec un écriteau qui annonçait, en russe et en français, que c'étaient des incendiaires. Les autres dix-sept s'en allèrent, et ils ne furent point inquiétés depuis —Le récit de ces gens (s'il est vrai) ferait croire que personne ne les a interrogés, et que les treize ont été fusillés PAR ORDRE SUPREME."

We have particularly marked the last member of this concluding sentence, for we think it should be read and commented on with considerable emphasis. It will be observed, that Count Rostopchin admits, that he possesses a copy of the printed trial of thirty individuals accused of burning the city; that they are severally designated by name, that thirteen were found guilty and condemned to death; that on his return to Moscow he saw and spoke with three of the men designated in the indictment (if we may so call it), and we request our reader's attention to their verbal statement. They say that one of them was arrested in the night, the two others in broad day; that they remained for some time in the guard-house of the Kremlin; that they were removed one morning to a certain barrack, where they were rejoined by seventeen other prisoners, and finally conducted to the place destined for the execution of the criminals. Here they remained for about an hour, where several officers arrived on horseback. Having dismounted, the dreadful ceremony of death commenced. The prisoners were ranged in line. The thirteen found guilty were shot, and the remaining seventeen were sent about their business, and not afterwards molested.

Now, if there ever was a case of combined justice, legal formality, and civil right apparent, we think that this is most eminently such, even on the shewing of Count Rostopchin himself. We are quite certain that, considering the circumstances of irritation, fury, and almost despair, to which the French army must have been then reduced, this process, so distinguished by all we have stated, could find no parallel. In the whole remaining population of the city (which is stated by Count Rostopchin at 12,000 or 13,000 after its general abandonment) only thirty were singled out as objects of accusation—not of