Thy heedless delight is so mild that, in flying,
Forgotten it fleets, like a wandering breeze
On the fields of air,-like a far sound dying,
Like an halcyon on the seas!

"O seek not to hasten thy ripening thought,
Rejoice in thy spring, in thy morning prime!
Thy moments are flow'rets, in garlands enwrought,
Then leave them to bloom, till scattered by Time!
Let the dark years come on-like us is your doom,
Unto grief and to friendship ill returned,
To the sorrows, denied by despairing gloom,
To pleasures by pity mourned!

Yet smile-nor the power of fate explore,
O smile, and let not a cloud arise

To sadden thy brow, or darken o'er

The mirror pure of thine azure eyes,

Which shows thy soul and reflects the skies!"

In Les Orientales there are not so many glaring defects as in the ballads and odes. The piece entitled Lui, the object of which is to sing the exile of Napoleon, possesses beauties of the highest order, but its numerous negligences and errors in taste render it inferior to the celebrated Meditation of De la Martine on the same subject.

Victor Hugo has written several prose romances. He is the author of Han d'Islande, and of Bay Jurgall, which in their day enjoyed a distinguished reputation, and, like the poems of the same author, are remarkable by an extravagant and affected style, by vigorous poetic thonght, and a description of life, written with all the energetic fire of youth. In Les Derniers Jours d'un Condamné the same beauties and defects are visible. This new romance, of which three editions were exhausted in fifteen days, will be found to contain many beautiful passages, and some scenes terrifically true, interspersed with others of irresistible tenderness. The following is a brief outline of the story.

A murder having been committed, a young man belonging to the middling class of society is apprehended, loaded with irons and brought before the tribunal. The prosecution having closed, the jury retire to their deliberative sitting, and the prisoner is reconducted to his dungeon. During three days his cause is under consideration, while his name and imputed crime draw crowds of spectators to the hall of Justice. The two first nights of inquietude and terror he passes in wakeful agitation; but on the third, after leaving the court at midnight, overcome with anxiety and exhaustion, he falls into a sleep.

He is thus reposing on his pallet, sunk in profound slumber, when they come to awaken him. It is the gaoler-who exclaims, "Arise!" The prisoner, trembling in every limb, obeys, though scarcely able to find his clothes or to dress himself. You are waited for," resumed the gaoler-and in a few moments he finds himself once more in the presence of his judges, and sentence of death is pronounced upon him.

"Condemned to death!" said the crowd; and, as I was led along, the people rushed after me with the sound of a crashing edifice. I walked onward in a state of stupefaction. A revolution had taken place within me. Before the passing of the sentence I felt myself breathing, moving, and living in the same atmosphere with other men-but now I beheld distinctly the barrier betwixt the world and me. Nothing seemed the same as it before had seemed. The lofty painted windows, the beauteous sun, the cloudless heaven, and the lovely flowers-all, all were overspread with a paly, sheetlike

whiteness

whiteness; and the men, women, and children, thronging around my path, appeared but phantoms of unsubstantial air.

"At the foot of the staircase, a grated coach, dark and dirty, was ready to receive me. 'A condemned culprit!' exclaimed the passers-by as they hastened towards the coach. Through the mist that seemed to hang betwixt myself and all around, I perceived two young girls who followed me with eager looks,Good-said the younger, clapping her hands, it will take place in six weeks!'"

66

The black coach conveys the convict to Bicêtre, where he records the mental tortures endured by the miserable expectants of destruction. Every possible precaution is taken to prevent his making any desperate effort to shorten the period of intermediate agony between condemnation and death. At first he experiences some kindliness from the gaolers, but in a few days, their accustomed barbarity prevails, and he is confined in the common dungeon, among the most depraved criminals. Here he makes his will-a mother, a wife, and a child will live to lament his fate and blush for his shame. "Thus," he says, "after my death three women,-childless, husbandless, and fatherless-will survive me. Three orphans of different kinds--three widows made by law. I own myself to be with justice punished, but what have these guiltless ones committed? Nothing-yet they are disgraced and ruined-and this is justice." The walls of the dungeon are covered with mutilated inscriptions and broken sentences, headless forms, like those who had written them." It seemed as though each convict had wished to leave a trace of his having dwelt in that horrible abode. Pencils, chalk, coal, had been used for this purpose-often deep notches had been cut in the stone, and here and there were seen incrusted characters, which appeared to be of blood. There had those murderous men thought their latest thoughts." The prisoner fancies to behold them, crowded in the dungeon and carrying their hairless heads by the mouth. All clench their hands at him; except the parricide. The gaoler entering takes the prisoner from amidst these horrible spectres, and leads him to a small cell whence he may behold the departure of the slaves for the galleys. He views that odious spectacle-he hears the smacking of whips and the clanking of chains, and the applauding shouts of the populace, who rejoice at the sufferings of the miserable slaves. "And this," cries the prisoner, "is but the beginning! What said my advocate? did he not name the galleys? O rather a thousand times would I welcome death! better the scaffold than the chain-better annihilation than mortal hell! rather could I bow my neck to the axe of the guillotine, than to the collar of a galley's crew-the galleys-oh just heaven!" The condemned ship sets sail, and the prisoner hears a young child, daughter of the gaoler, singing a robber's song-and all the horrible expressions which she unconsciously repeats, appear to him the slime of slugs upon a rose. "Ah!" exclaims he,what infamy is in a dungeon! defiling all around, and withering even the song of an artless girl !"

The Court of Appeal has not yet pronounced its decree, and the prisoner still has hope, when early in the morning an old man with white hair, and wrapped in a great coat, enters, and throwing open his coat displays a cassock. This clergyman announces that the appeal has been rejected and that sentence is to be executed forthwith-on that very day. The prisoner is removed to the gaoler's house whither the priest follows and addresses him, but his voice has no power to touch the culprit's soul. And how," says he, "should it be otherwise? The priest is the pensioned pastor of the prison, whose livelihood depends upon the exhortations and consoling sentences which he has prepared for all occasions. The culprits are confessed and assisted by him because he has an office to fulfil, and he has grown old in lead

ing men to death. He has been long accustomed to what makes others tremble-the galleys and the scaffold being his daily scene of action."

There is an affecting scene between the prisoner and his daughter, who is brought to see him, but, in his altered dress and appearance, cannot recognize her father. After this heart-rending interview, the prisoner is led forth to execution, when a respite is announced; but before his first shock of joy has subsided, the wretch receives intelligence that sentence of death is confirmed " against him; and thus the work concludes.

Of the selection of such a subject for description, as that just sketched, we cannot say much in the way of approval; and with the treatment which it has experienced from M. Hugo, we think his admirers have no great cause. to be gratified. Passages of considerable force and beauty there undoubtedly are, scattered, and that not thinly, through the work; but the tumid diction and false sentimentality of the narrative generally cause us to lament that the author should have employed his descriptive powers in painting "les derniers jours d'un condamné" in preference to other subjects more worthy of his poetic talent and previous fame.

Le Livre Noir de MM. Tranchet et Delaveau, ou Repertoire Alphabétique de la Police Politique. Paris, 1829. 4 vols. 8vo. Moutardier.

THE publication of the Black Book is intended to afford us an insight into the most hidden recesses of police mystery; to exhibit the turpitude of its internal resources; to show morality, honesty, and every virtue of public and private life sacrificed to its artifices; to picture its imagination ever fruitful in childish and gloomy apprehensions and fantastic fears, every where beholding the fatal plots of conspirators, and constantly forming visionary conspiracies, in order to have occasion for exclaiming-Regicide! Carbonarism!-in fine, to describe the clumsiness and want of foresight in its agents, and their stupid ignorance of the most notorious facts and persons. In this book are noted the inquisitorial researches into the life of every citizen in its most minute details. No receptacle, wherever chosen, is impervious to the eye of the police; and fo them the thickest wall is more transparent than the crystal castle of a fairy tale. Beneath the valet's livery and the dress of the dandy or the rake; beneath the convenient veil of the most honourable professions and of the distinctions of society, this evil eye contrives to penetrate and gratify its eager gaze: being present in the familiarity of every circle, and at the most confidential effusions of friendship. Thus, whatever France could boast as honourable, praiseworthy, and independent, was unceasingly subject to the prying ken of the very vilest detractors, and exposed to the base calumnies of the friends of Messrs. Tranchet and Delaveau. But we will cite an extract which will afford more convincing proof than any thing which we could say of the monstrous. system of espionnage carried on by the French Police.

"The Duke of Berwick-The Princess of San Cotaldo.-The Duke de San Lorenzo, Ambassador from Spain-his Secretary-Madame HutchinsonCol. Fabvier.

'Private Intelligence for the chief of the Central Police."' 1st of October 1822.-Informations have been received from divers quarters, which leave no doubt that the Spaniards now resident in Paris are secretly occupied in engaging the service of officers belonging to the old French army for the soi-disant constitutional army of Spain. In consequence hereof we directed one of our inspectors to wait upon the Duke of Berwick, who resides in the Rue Taitbont, No. 31, and to inquire of him by what means a French officer might join the Constitutional army in Spain; and to say that he was sent to him by the Princess Santo Cotaldo. The Duke answered the inspector

with great politeness: "I understand you, sir: I can arrange your business: return here in a few days; I will see some one on the subject, and shall be enabled to instruct you how you are to proceed." We sent a second time, when the Duke said to the inspector: "I have spoken of you to the Spanish embassy. They expect you. Go, and ask in my name to see M. Vinigo, the third secretary, with whom you will agree." Yesterday the 30th, the inspector attended at the Spanish embassy and asked for M. Vinigo, who received him in the most affable manner and conducted him mysteriously to a private room on the third floor, where they were alone. M. Vinigo then. said to the inspector: "Your devotedness to the cause of liberty is highly praiseworthy. The ambassador and the Duke of Berwick have made me acquainted with your good intentions. I will not conceal from you that we are enlisting officers for the constitutional army: the rendezvous for the recruits is at Perpignan, whither you will proceed. But you must endeavour secretly to procure for us some of your comrades, who will be furnished with the necessary funds and papers, and on their arrival at Perpignan they will receive further orders. I can tell you no more at present, but on the 2d of October, go to the private hotel of the ambassador, Rue de Provence. He will expect you." M. Vinigo then added, "The actual government of France is a cheat, and it recruits for the Army of the Faith; of this we are perfectly convinced, for a Spanish officer, now in Paris, was engaged by its agents to serve in the Army of the Faith. They gave him the necessary funds and papers, together with letters of recommendation to the authorities in the towns through which he would have had to pass; and they administered to him the oath of fidelity to the Army of the Faith. But this officer came immediately to inform our ambassador of what had passed, and renewed his oath of allegiance to the constitutional system." M. Vinigo concluded by saying to the inspector: "Before your departure I will give you letters of introduction to one of my relations who commands a division of the army under Mina."

3d Oct. 1822. Yesterday at eleven o'clock we sent the inspector mentioned in our report of the 1st of this month, to the Duke de San Lorenzo, the new ambassador from Spain, in the Rue de Provence, No. 36. The in-. spector was received by his excellency with a cordiality truly surprising. The duke detained him during two hours, when he took leave, saying that he was obliged at that hour to see the minister for foreign affairs. The following are in substance the sentiments which he made known to the inspector relative to the secret in question. He said that he had on the 1st of December despatched a courier to the cortes of Madrid to demand the necessary authority and funds to engage French officers; that this courier would return to Paris in twenty days, and would undoubtedly bring an answer favourable to the measure. The duke then offered to supply the inspector with letters of recommendation, funds, &c., if he would proceed to Spain; but concluded by saying that the better plan would be to await the return of the courier, as then their operations could be prosecuted on a larger scale. He at the same time begged the inspector to visit him frequently, in order to discuss their plan. After several other interviews with the Duke de San Lorenzo and his secretary Vinigo, and at which the Duke of Berwick often attended, taking an active part in the discussion, it was determined that the inspector should set out for Spain under the assumed name of Francisco Bravo; and that, instead of joining the constitutionalists, he should enter the Army of the Faith in order to communicate its plans and movements to General Mina and to the ambassador, for which purpose certain scriptural characters were agreed upon. The letters to the duke were to be addressed to Mad. Leroy, Rue de Provence, No. 20; "because" said the duke," all letters, even the most in

significant,

significant, which are addressed to the embassy are opened by the French post-office." In one of the conversations of this inspector with M. Vinigo, the latter told him that the British ambassador at Paris had confidentially acquainted the Duke de San Lorenzo that he had received secret orders from his government to quit France as soon as hostilities should commence, and that consequently England made common cause with Spain in the actual conjuncture; and, in fine, that Mr. Hutchinson, a member of Parlament, had since given him the same assurances, and that the English officers then in Paris had come in a body to offer their services to his excellency the Spanish ambassador. He stated, that before the end of the month Spain would have organized an army of one hundred and eighty thousand men to oppose the French invasion; which army would have for its vanguard a French legion, which would march under the tri-coloured banner; that this legion would nominate a French regency with Prince Eugène Beauharnois at its head; and that the French army would be the scorn of all Europe; that it could hope for no success when commanded by a . . prince and a Duke of Belluno, who had no claim on the confidence of true Frenchmen, ..that it was advisable to make every effort for seizing the Duke d'Angoulême, and to shoot him immediately: " for," added Vinigo, " we ought not to have to reproach ourselves with an absurdity similar to that committed by Buonaparte when he saved his life. This is the true way of meeting the enemies of the nations... War without quarter to the Bourbons. The first shot fired at the Pyrenees shall be the signal for the downfall of the Bourbons in France, Spain, and Naples. Such are the hopes and prayers of the liberals in all countries, &c."

One of the reports of the police agents terminates as follows. “We have just seen Mrs. Hutchinson again. She says that she has received a letter from her husband, who informs her that in a few days a majority of the English parliament will, by a solemn act, protest against the war which France is about to make on Spain. This lady says also, that Colonel Fabvier has set out, or will shortly do so, for London, charged with an important mission, which is expected to have the most wonderful results. We should remark that Colonel Fabvier is closely connected with Colonel Malchado, Mr. Hutchinson, and the Duke de San Lorenzo."

All ranks and classes indiscriminately figure in the Black Book, on a principle of perfect and unsurpassable equality. Beside the historic names of generals, deputies, and peers of France, we find those of the modest student and the private gentleman carefully noted on the suspected list. One of the partners in the London firm of Darthey is entered next to Beranger; Frederic de George, a law student, is inscribed together with the Deputy Dannon, two pages distant from General La Fayette. Many a spruce shopkeeper will be petrified on perceiving his desk-speculations transformed into sinister plots; his arithmetical rules into political machinations. All means are held as lawful by the police for watching the steps of every man whom an honourable independence or the practice of virtue has rendered suspected in their eyes. To them nothing is sacred: profiting by the indiscretion or cupidity of a menial, they extract all possible information from him, and turning it to what account they please, often make a man the victim of his servant's stupidity or treachery. The following extract will show how the police agents sought to pry into the secrets of General Foy.

"FOY, GENERAL.

"Private information to the Chief of the Central Police.

8th May, 1823. "We observe that for several days past, and particularly in the evening continuing till a late hour, there have been meetings held at the house of

General