the next.

representative of modern Liberalism) against do with a bend of the neck. Neighbouring the possibility of the system which is exhib- States are always in fear, and overwhelm him ited to him, we shall find a constantly rising with marks of their deference, for they never interest in the closeness and accuracy of the satire, -if satire that may be termed which, without humour, without wit, has all the cruelty of an unfavourable photograph. It is impossible to say that it is not the very image of modern Cæsarism which we have under our eyes, but with that indescribable difference between the living reality and its representation whereby the malice of Phobus Apollo-indignant no doubt at being compelled to turn limner at the beck and call of every simpering snob and frowsy damsel-anticipating on the ravages of time, shows us, without altering a line or a feature, in the beauty of to-day the dowdy of twenty years hence, and hardens the handsome young Guardsman into a middleaged martinet.

The effect of M. Joly's work depends so greatly on the accumulation of small touches, put in one by one with the patience of a miniature-painter, that it is difficult to give a sufficient idea of it by mere extracts. The most telling portions of the book indeed to a Frenchman are precisely those which would carry the least amount of meaning to the general foreign reader, who would miss most of the allusions and lose himself amid details. In quoting therefore as a sample a passage of a more general character, the critic is bound to point out that such passages do not give the best idea of M. Joly's powers of political vivisection:

approach me.

I would communicate

"Machciavelli. — I have only now to indicate to you certain particularities in my mode of acting, certain habits of conduct which shall give its last characteristic trait to my government. In the first place, I mean my designs to be impenetrable, even for those who shall most nearly my projects only to order them to be executed, and I would only give my orders at the last noment. I have the gift of immobility. My end is yonder; I am looking in no other direction, and when that end comes with in reach I turn suddenly round and dart on my prey before it has had time to utter a cry. You could not believe what prestige such a power of dissimulation gives to a man. When it is joined to vigorous action, a superstitious respect surrounds him. His counsellors ask one anoth

er in a whisper what is about to come out of his head; the people place all their trust in him; he personifies in their eyes the unknown ways of Providence. When they see him pass, they think with involuntary terror of what he might

know if any enterprise already prepared may not be directed against them from one day to institutions and in my acts how careful I have You may have seen in my always been to create appearances; these are needed in words as in acts. The height of skill consists in making men believe in one's frankness, whilst keeping a Punic faith. Not only shall my designs be impenetrable, but my words shall signify almost always the contrary of what they shall seem to indicate. Only the initiated will be able to penetrate the sense of moments I shall let drop from the throne. those characteristic sayings which at certain When I shall say 'My reign is peace,' it will be war; when I shall say that I appeal to 'moral means,' I shall be about to use forcible ones. You have seen that my press has a hundred voices, that they are all incessantly speaking of the greatness of my reign, of the enthusiasm of my people for their sovereign; that they put at the same time into the mouth of the public the opinions, the ideas, the very formulas which are that my ministers are untiringly astonishing the to inspire its conversations; you have seen also public with the incontestable evidences of their labours. As for me, I would rarely speak ; once a year only, and here and there on great occasions. And so every one of my manifestations would be received, not only in my kingdom, but in all Europe, as a real event.

So the writer proceeds, in level style, unflagging, merciless. You have seen this before, and that; at one time or other, this or that portion of the machinery of imperial oppression has been analyzed and denounced in far more scathing language. But the writer's patient gathering up of details under their respective heads ends by exercising a fascination of its own over the reader, bringing one by one back to his mind all the halfforgotten criticisms of the past, and presenting to him in its reality that marvellous tissue of oppression, supple seemingly as a glove, and yet riveted with iron-fine often as gossamer, and yet strong as adamant, which the "Wayland Smith" of contemporary policy has thrown around the limbs of the greatest of Continental nations, and whereby the crafty magician subdues its mighty life to its own dark ends.

On the whole it is difficult to say whether the Second Empire has done wisely or unwisely to suppress M. Maurice Joly's book. There were certainly ten chances to one that it would remain unread by all but a few. But what if the many had taken to reading it?

From the Spectator.

CLARISSA.*

But

acters he has brought together in his tales, Richardson accompanies slowly in his state coach the slow march of the single temptaIr is almost as much a change of air to tion with which he occupies his story. No turn from the lively rattle of our railway doubt there are very few even of modern novels to the solemn coach-and-six of Richwriters who travel over so much ground of ardson's full-dress genius, as to exchange miscellaneous incident as Mr. Trollope, but London for the old towns of Germany, even those who adhere most closely to the where the outside dress of the middle ages development of a single story, take care to still abides, even within hearing of the express trains. What a gulf, for example, be- give a constantly changing attitude to the tween Richardson and Mr. Trollope! And Principal actors in relation to it; they do the difference is not exactly in the rate of not magnify a single moral attitude with Richardson's magnificent pertinacity and their own movement as authors, for Mr. Trollope is tranquil and minute enough, and on hausted its significance and sculptured it, microscopic minuteness till they have exproper occasion Richardson can be as lively as it were, in solid marble; rather do they and effervescent as any novelist of any day. The difference is in the movement of the give a series of successive sketches of the same characters in different aspects. As world which they describe. A hundred we have implied, much of this fixity of modern interests ripple the mind of to-day for every one that swept across that of manner may be due to the time. In that less busy age, the leisurely classes made a Richardson's day, and hence he studied the breaking of a single wave with as much great deal more of one purpose than we do care and art as a modern artist would give selves were less mobile than of many, and hence the characters themnow, fell into to a whole storm at sea. Richardson made stiffer moulds, brooded more over a few men and angels lay aside their proper consubjects, and made more solemn and elabocerns, - almost brought the whole world to a standstill, to gaze on the trial of one still if a Richardson would be more surprisrate preparations for given effects. woman's virtue. Every one whom he introduces, he introduces only with relation ing than ever in the present age, he was a curious literary phenomenon even then, alVto this one purpose. Clarissa's own family most as strong a contrast to Fielding as to have their meaning only in Clarissa. They live but to persecute her into dangers from our modern writers. His imagination was microscopic, and required as definite a which she cannot escape, and to mourn over focus to its object-glass as a microscope. their own life as a wreck when their stupidity and obstinacy have borne their natural any family nowadays could by any chance devote the time to breaking in a refractory fruits. Lovelace, superior as he is as a girl to a disagreeable alliance which the dramatic creation to Clarissa and every Harlowes devoted to attempting to force other character, exists only to tempt and Mr. Solmes on Clarissa, certainly no other betray her; Miss Howe only to receive her artist could reproduce those tedious months confidences and sustain her by her sympa- with the patient exactitude of Richardson. thy; Belford but to show what was her Precisely three months given up to family persuasive power over a dissolute heart. councils, voluminous letters, interviews, Enormous as are the proportions of the narrative, one centred more completely in negotiation, diplomacy, protests, protocols, threats of war, and this only the introducone figure, and almost in one attitude of that figure, is nowhere else to be found. tion to the real story! The first two volumes of the old edition are exactly like the The long eight volumes in which it was formerly published are wholly occupied Schleswig-Holstein blue-books, only that Mr. James Harlowe, junior, was much more with an account, the full size of life, of And this every incident which contributed to or im- peremptory than Lord Russell. peded and delayed the dénouement. While is all prelude. Clarissa does not take up the attitude in which Richardson really deMr. Trollope travels rapidly and lightly signs to sculpture her till after her flight over hundreds of little incidents which are from home, till after the rash step when, almost independent of each other, and related only as illustrating the various char- as she pathetically wails in her letter to Miss Howe, "your Clarissa is gone off with a man. Then, the delicate but respectful inflexibility with which she has resisted the mixed prayers and bullyings of the family league, is changed into an equally keen but more proud and suspicious resistance to

*C'arissa; or, the History of a Young Lady; Comprehending the most important Concerns of Private Life, and particularly showing the Distress es tha may attend the Misconduct both of Parents and Children in Relation to Marriage. By S. Richardson. Complete in 4 vols. Tauchnitz: Leipzig.

If

Lovelace's gay frauds and deep scheming mirers:-"I could wish, if it might be passion. Yet even in the introduction, she avoided without making ill-will between is thrown into the attitude which Richard- Mr. Lovelace and my executor, that the son thought the most characteristic of femi- former might not be permitted to see my nine purity, one of perpetual guard corpse. But if, as he is a man very unconagainst masculine encroachments; but while trollable, and I am nobody's, he insist upon the earlier struggle is a mere test of per-viewing her dead whom he ONCE before saw tinacity under almost brutal pressure, the in a manner dead, let his gay curiosity be engagement with Lovelace is one which gratified. Let him behold, and triumph, calls for subtlety, skill, vigilance, and the courage of despair.

over the wretched remains of one who has been made a victim to his barbarous perIt is easy to criticize Richardson's con- fidy, but let some good person, as by my ception of a paragon of feminine excellence desire, give him a paper while he is viewin Clarissa. Her notion of purity is clearly ing the ghastly spectacle, containing these legal, her humility is far from genuine; she few words only, Gay, cruel heart! Behold is evidently as conscious as her biographer here the remains of the once ruined yet that she is a spectacle for angels and for now happy Clarissa Harlowe! See what men, and her demure saintship, when she thou thyself must quickly. be, and REdevotes herself with almost the relish of an PENT!' Yet to show that I die in perfect epicure to dying in the way that may heap charity with all the world, I do most sinthe most glowing coals of fire on her per- cerely forgive Mr. Lovelace the wrongs he secutors' heads, though never without a has done me. That is, she forgives him in certain transparent beauty and sweetness, the sense of reserving to herself the comis still full of didactic triumph. Then, in plete monopoly of wounding him by verbal spite of the real sweetness, there is a drop taunts and stings, posthumous or otherwise. of feminine venom, of which Richardson That privilege, even though it require little himself is scarcely aware, at the bottom of theatric arrangements over her coffin, she Clarissa's character from beginning to end. cannot give up. But all this is only critiIn her very first letter, before her sister cism on Richardson's conception of feminine Arabella has begun her malignities, Clarissa perfection, not on the picture of Clarissa, dissects the vanities and radical vulgarity which is studied with absolute consistency of her sister's mind to her friend Miss Howe and wonderful nicety throughout. She is with the most unflinching hand. And at brought up to think herself the centre of the very last, though she professes to have the universe,-grandfather, father, mothforgiven all her enemies, she launches little er, uncles, brother and sister, servants, poisoned arrows at them in her pious will every one bowing down before her, even and farewell letters which render the title as a child, as the sheaves of Joseph's brethso often applied to her of "divine lady ren bowed in his dream towards his own not a little amusing. This, for instance, sheaf. Her "friends and favourers," as in is the red-hot coal she bequeaths to her the time of her adversity she writes to Dr. sister's maid, Betty, who harassed her much Lewin, one of her principal "favorera," through the preliminary home persecution: have a sort of right, she thinks, to know "To my sister's maid, Betty Barnes, I the history of her trials and of her glorious bequeath ten pounds, to show that I resent justification. She is fully aware of all the not former disobligations, which I believe gifts. "Did I not," she writes to Miss were owing more to the insolence of oflice Howe, "did I not think more and deeper and to natural pertness than to personal than most young creatures think; did I ill-will" That is a pretty effectual retalia- not weigh; did I not reflect; I might pertion for a saint to launch at a waiting-maid haps have been less obstinate. Delicacy from the tomb. Towards her betrayer, (may I presume to call it?), thinking, weighLovelace, of course something of natural ing, reflection are not blessings, -(I have horror might fairly be mingled with her not found them such), in the degree I Christian forgiveness, but the actual state have them. I wish I had been able in some of her mind seems to us to have in it more very nice cases to have known what indifof lingering spite and less of Christian for- ference was; yet not to have my ignorance giveness or profound pity than the author imputable to me as a fault. Oh my dear! wished to delineate. The nice little dra- the finer sensibilities, if I may suppose mine matic scene in which she intends her own to be such, make not happy." Yet in spite corpse shall play the most impressive part, of all this didactic egotism in Clarissa, not looks to us rather more like feminine re- unmingled with a resentment to those who venge than it seemed to Clarissa's ad- do not recognize her merit which has often

L

acter, and her ingrained impertinence to all who attempt any control over her except Clarissa; then, her mother, who in spite of her own vulgar vanity and stinginess is really wrapt up in the daughter, whose more free and generous nature she so profoundly admires, even Mr. Brand, the pompous cu

want of any purely evil motive, though with a complete absence of any good motive, the intrinsic wilfulness of Lovelace's purposes, which cannot give up their own tyrannous desire to prevail, and are not sufficiently impressionable by the wishes of others to be moved by pity or sympathy, which a little palliates Lovelace's iniquities to Rich-rate, with his string of classical quotations, ardson and his readers. His evil is due to a sort of physical levity, to the playing of a gay fountain of pure self-will, that sparkles away in the sun, like a natural spring that has no responsibility for its own course.

Nor are any of the minor figures in this wonderful book less completely finished. Though they all have their centre and unity in the paragon Clarissa in a manner highly improbable and irritating, nothing can be more minute than the characteristic finish given to each; - the obstinate, selfish, imperious brother, whose intelligence is so inferior to his pertinacity; the vain, spiteful sister, who almost enjoys her sister's dishonour, but is overwhelmed with grief at her death; the weak, the fond mother, who dare not assert her own will to save her daughter; the gouty, querulous father, who is persuaded he is doing it all himself when he is the mere instrument of his son; the uncles, equally weak, but after so different a fashion, -one with all the tenderness of a soft nature, the other with all the bustle of a vulgar "plump soul," as Miss Howe calls the retired naval officer; Miss Howe, again, the piquant auburn beauty, with her lively wit and knowledge of char

and Joseph Leman, the semi-hypocritical man-servant who delights to call himself a "plain man," -all are chiselled out with wonderful fidelity and often with a humour which ought to have gained Richardson a place with Fielding and Smollett in Thackeray's English Humourist.

Clarissa is a book in which the lines are cut so much deeper than any novelist cares to cut them now, the whole treatment is so completely the size of life, without being (after the first two volumes) in any degree dull, that though no one character except that of Lovelace reaches to the highest standard of originality, they together form a group impressed with the manners of the seventeenth century, which takes its place amongst those most vivid of all memories which we retain some vague impression of having derived from personal experience. It is a strange and somewhat quaint result of Richardson's didactic design that he succeeded in making for ever memorable a wanton being without any very distinct trace of a conscience, and gave the artistic triumph at least to his villain, instead of to the paragon of excellence whose character he had so painfully and minutely laboured,

HEALTH OF LONDON. It appears from the last four weeks having been 22, 25, 27 and 38. return issued by authority of the Registrar-Gen- Its development assumes more formidable dieral, that in the week that ended on Saturday, mensions at a more advanced period of the sumJune 3, the births in London and ten other large mer; but at any time it may be controlled by towns of the United Kingdom, were 3,389; the a due regard to the wholesome condition of deaths 2,542. The annual rate of mortality in houses and localities, and by the judicious manthe week in those eleven towns was 23 per 1,000 agement of young children to whom the compersons living. In London the births of 969 plaint is chiefly fatal. The deaths from typus boys and 891 girls, in all 1,860 children, were in the week were 44. This disease has been registered in the week. In the corresponding less fatal since April. At the Royal Observaweeks of ten years, 1855-64, the average num- tory, Greenwich, the mean height of the baromber, corrected for increase of population, was, eter in the week was 27.707 in. The barome1,871. The deaths registered in London were, trical reading fell to 29.44 in. on Friday, and 1,187. The average number for the 22d, that rose to 29.90 in. on Saturday. The mean temis, the corresponding week in ten years, correct-perature of the air in the week was 58.3 deg., ed for increase of population, is 1,183. There is a very close agreement, therefore, between the result and that obtained by calculation. The mortality from diarrhoea increases as is usual, with that disease, under summer heat; but the is not rapid; the deaths from it in the

which is 1.7 deg. above the average of the same week in 50 years (as determined by Mr. Glaisher). The highest day temperature was 73.8 deg., and occurred on Monday. The lowest night temperature was 47.2 deg., and occurred on Thursday.