Immagini della pagina
PDF
ePub

Thomas were received with a general burst of laughter, and Benjamin's unusual merriment soon discovered him to be the author.

"What is the meaning of this joke?" inquired his brother, as soon as he was able to compose himself. "I wanted to prove to Thomas the utility of reading what he prints," replied the young apprentice.

"It was a joke then, Mr. Benjamin," said Thomas, losing a little of his terrified appearance.

"Yes, and a good one," said Benjamin, “to make a man accuse himself of being a murderer, without his knowing a word about it! But how pale you are, Thomas, are you frightened?"

"Marry! Mr. Benjamin, the devil is so malicious." "He cannot, however, make you a murderer against your will."

"But, Benjamin," said the older of the two persons, who during this scene had been attentively observing the young apprentice, “I do not see why you should be endeavouring to promote a taste for reading in your brother's office; if all the workmen were to spend their time in reading like you, what would become of the establishment?"

"The health of my workmen would also suffer by it," replied the master of the office; "for I only yester day discovered that Benjamin is actually starving himself."

"How can that be?" exclaimed the father, "for in the arrangement that I made with you, James, it was agreed that for the nine years your brother was to serve his apprenticeship to you, that you were not to give him any payment, but were to support him."

"Well, father, about six months ago, Benjamin came to me, and said that I paid too much for his support, and that if it would be equally agreeable to me, he would rather I gave him half the sum, and let him provide for himself. I could only suppose that he did not like the kind of food provided for him, and that he preferred choosing for himself; I therefore consented, and what has been the consequence? that Benjamin scarcely eats anything, and saves all his money to buy books."

"You are mistaken, brother, I eat plenty, only I live economically. Among the books lent me by my cousin, there was one which recommended vegetable diet as the best means of keeping the body healthy, and the mind active. I studied this way of living, and the author's method of dressing potatoes and rice in the most economical manner, and it was not until I was in full possession of these discoveries that I made the proposal of supplying myself. I have dined very well, I assure you, father, on bread and raisins, and a glass of water."

"And, thanks to your Pythagorean system, you are becoming as pale and transparent as the water you drink." "Besides, I have given up a vegetable diet," added Benjamin.

"Since when?" inquired his brother.

"Since the day before yesterday, when, on going into the kitchen, I saw Susan cleaning some fish, and in the inside of a large cod she found a small fish; 'Oh! oh! my lad,' said I, 'since you can eat one another, I see no reason why we should not eat you;' and that proves," added he, laughing, "that man is rightly called a reasonable creature, since he can so easily find reasons for justifying whatever he wishes to do."

"What a fickle, unsteady mind!" said his father; "in place of going on regularly with one business, Benjamin, you are always thinking of something else than of what you ought to do."

"How can I help it, father?" replied the boy, "I had but one desire, that of studying,-but one vocation, that of printing,-but one ambition, that of being a clergyman. Oh! how I should like to be the chaplain of the family. You know, father, how happy I was when at school."

[ocr errors][merged small]

|

family, as you call it, would it not be quite as honourable to become the support of it? and for that, you have only to continue my business."

"To melt tallow, prepare moulds, and manufacture candles! that is a business, father, that a person can acquire when he likes, and without being confined to deep and scientific studies."

"You are wrong there, Ben," said his father, “all manufacturers do not make equally good candles; but that is not the subject in question. You had scarcely begun one business, when a book of voyages fell into your hands, and immediately you would think of nothing but sailing about, steering a boat, and making voyages."

66

And swimming too, father; I taught myself to swim, which is no such easy matter."

Mr. Franklin resumed: "To divert you from that fancy, and with a wish to settle you more suitably, I tried to have you taught the cutlery business

66

'And unfortunately," interrupted the apprentice, "a lodger at the cutler's with whom you placed me possessed a fine library; Voyages and Travels, Histories of France and of England; it would have been a clever person, I promise you, that could have brought me from the library to the workshop; oh! what a pleasant time I spent at the cutler's!"

[ocr errors]

At last, in order to satisfy your insatiable passion for books, I decided on making you a printer, although there was already one in the family; I placed you with your brother, and here again you will do nothing except turn over books and read."

"And make verses," said Benjamin proudly, "ask my brother the success of my last song." 'It was immense," said James.

66

"My children, I have read those verses," resumed the father;" and I must confess that it grieves me to destroy the delightful illusions which this success has raised in the mind of Benjamin, but it is my duty both as a father and a friend to tell him the truth; those verses are detestable and worthless, void of taste, metre, or elegance; they have wit, I allow, but what is wit without good sense? A bad poet,-which Benjamin is to the last degree,-a bad poet, I say, is the most useless being in the world, while at the same time he is the most ridiculous: poetry does not admit of mediocrity. If, indeed, you wrote verses as the mysterious writer of that article upon political and domestic economy writes prose, that is what I would call writing, that is sense; the style is rather youthful, there are some erroneous ideas, but what soundness of mind, what judgment! Those writings are the indications of a superior genius, and the author will one day be a great man! Have you read those articles, Benjamin?"

"I have," he replied, with affected indifference. "Have you no clue yet as to who is the author of those papers?" inquired Mr. Franklin of his eldest son, who was correcting the proofs of his journal.

"None whatever," he replied; "I have charged Thomas to watch for the person who puts them into the box."

"And I have watched, sir," said Thomas, "I watched for two long hours, till some one called me out of the office; I then charged Mr. Benjamin to watch, but apprentices are no good; while Mr. Benjamin was there the article was put into the box, and yet he saw nothing."

"That is impossible, Benjamin," said his father. Benjamin coloured, while he replied, "Do you think, father, that I could sit with my eyes constantly fixed upon the aperture of the box?"

"That is an evasion you are making," said his father. "I have the most urgent desire to know the author of those anonymous papers; they not only have given great repute to my journal, but I wish to have an interview with this individual, and to concert with him the means of sometimes giving a new direction to its ideas.-Now, Benjamin, acknowledge that you

have seen this person, and that you have been enjoined secrecy."

"

Come, Mr. Benjamin, acknowledge it," said Thomas, "consider that I shall gain a dollar by your confession." "A constable's letter, sir," said a workman, entering the office, and handing a sealed letter to James. James eagerly opened the letter and read as follows:"Mr. James Franklin,-I have taken the best means to discover the author of the anonymous articles which appeared in some of the last numbers of your journal, and I have obtained the most undoubted proofs that the writer is in your house, and in your own employment. "Have the goodness, sir, to make the most minute inquiries into this business. I expect to be informed of the result before four-and-twenty hours.

"NELSON BURDET, Constable."

"What can be the meaning of this? What is to be done?" exclaimed James, when he had finished the letter; then raising his head he was astonished at the number of people who had assembled around him.

[blocks in formation]

"Of what importance can the opinion of a single individual be to the government?" said another. "But it appears that the constable attaches considerable importance to it," added a third.

"A man who censures every one, who advises every one, who attacks every opinion," said a fourth. "It is extraordinary," said they all.

"But the most singular part of it is, gentlemen," said James, "that the culprit is in my house, and that I do not know him."

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

66

If you have to run any risk on account of that, my dear master," replied Thomas, "you must even be silent, but as sure as Guttenberg was not the inventor, but the improver of printing, as Mr. Benjamin has just informed me, I make a guess, that he who wrote the anonymous articles knows how to write: the constable asserts that the person is in this house; then, as there is no person here who knows how to write, except you and Mr. Benjamin, and as he is too young for that, and besides, cares for nothing but reading, then -you perceive

"

"James," said his father, "this dissimulation with me is wrong."

"And with us all, James," exclaimed several voices, "what! it was you who wrote those articles and concealed it from us!"

Thomas now advanced boldly into the midst of the assembly, and holding out his hand to his master, he said, "I have won my dollar, sir; it was I who first guessed that it was you."

"You are a blockhead," said his master, angrily. "That is nothing new; I know it this long time, but that does not prevent me having won my dollar." "Good morning, Mr. Franklin, good morning, James,"

[blocks in formation]

"that if

Benjamin trembled and turned pale. "That is to say," continued the new comer, he be not already arrested, he will be so before long." "He is known then," observed Mr. Franklin, the

elder. "In the meantime, my poor James, you had better keep out of the way, for if it be not true, I know that people can come upon the printer; therefore, take care of yourself!"

"Arrest! do you think they could arrest my brother, Mr. Samuel?" exclaimed Benjamin, in breathless haste. Only in case they cannot discover the author of the articles, my young friend."

[ocr errors]

"Ah! my dear master, how sorry I am that I informed against you," said Thomas, quite vexed with himself. 66 'By Guttenberg, the famous inventor-no, the improver of printing,-that is what comes of having a bad head.-Oh dear, oh dear!”

"The constable, sir," said a workman.

At the same moment an elderly man entered the office, towards whom every eye turned with anxiety.

As soon as the constable entered, Benjamin ran to him. "Sir," said he, "if any one here is to be arrested, I am the person." And as every one was struck dumb with surprise, the generous boy continued :-" I accuse myself of being the author of the anonymous articles which appeared in several of my brother's papers; I can prove it by the copies of those articles which are still in the drawer of my table. I beg, sir, that no person may suffer on my account, and, above all, do not punish my brother for having printed them; for pity's sake, let me be the only sufferer!"

"And who talks of punishment and suffering?" asked the magistrate, taking the young apprentice by the hand, and regarding him attentively.

"Are you not looking for the author of those articles ?" inquired Benjamin.

[ocr errors]

Yes, certainly, my boy; not to punish, but to reward him; to testify our satisfaction at his inimitable writings, so full of mind, sense, and judgment. What is it you, who appear such a child, yet write like a man?-but how old are you, sir?" continued the magistrate, no longer calling him "my boy," so much had he already increased in his estimation.

Benjamin looked down in confusion, and modestly replied, "Fifteen years old, sir."

66

"And whence can you have drawn, at your age, such an extensive knowledge of trade and political economy?" 'Here, sir," said Benjamin, pointing to those around him; "I heard these gentlemen speak, and then I wrote."

Sobs were heard, which interrupted this interrogatory; and Benjamin, turning round, saw his father, with a handkerchief to his face.

"You are weeping, father," said he, rushing towards him.

"It is for joy," replied the old man, opening his arms to his son, and clasping him to his breast; "it is for joy, for happiness! And as I said before, give up poetry, so now I say, pursue your career, young man: the boy who listens attentively to the conversation of men, and who has sense to discern between right and wrong, in order to form his own judgment, that boy will do well, and his father will be the happiest of parents." By Guttenberg! Who will pay me my dollar (" exclaimed a voice from behind them.

66

"I will, as soon as I possess one," said Benjamin. "In the meantime, take this one, Thomas," said Mr. Franklin, putting a five-frane piece into the hand of the old printer.

This little scene, my young reader, was but the prelude to what Benjamin Franklin afterwards became.

I will now briefly relate the remainder of his life, and show how he went on from invention to invention, each more useful than the other, until he made that finest of modern discoveries, the lightning conductor.

A misunderstanding having occurred between the two brothers, Benjamin departed from Boston, by sea, for New York, but not being able to procure employment there, he proceeded to Philadelphia; there he had not a single acquaintance, and all the money he was worth was one dollar.

Franklin found but two printers in that city, one of them, named Keyman, employed him through charity, but he soon found him his cleverest compositor. Sir William Keith, governor of the province, took much notice of him, and urged him to set up for himself, promising him every assistance. He then proposed to him to make a voyage to England, in order to procure all the necessary materials for a printing-office, and promised to take upon himself all the expenses attendant upon it. Franklin gladly embraced the proposal, and set sail about the beginning of 1725. Upon his arrival in London he found that Governor Keith had completely deceived him, and had forwarded neither letters of credit, nor of recommendation, and he was consequently unable to return to Philadelphia. He then, for a present support, engaged himself as a workman in the house of Palmer, a printer of note in Bartholomew-close.

At this time, although but seventeen years of age, his mind was turned towards plans of general utility. Having taught himself to swim at Boston, and knowing the difficulties of that art, he was anxious to establish a swimming school in London; but the desire of seeing his native country prevailed over every other consideration, and he returned to Philadelphia, where he entered into partnership with a person of the name of Merideth, whose father was able to advance the necessary money; the understanding being that Franklin's skill should be placed against the capital to be supplied by Merideth. In process of time Merideth withdrew from the partnership, and Franklin became possessed of the whole concern, to which he soon afterwards added the business of a stationer.

His public life now commenced, and even his relaxations became works of utility: he instituted a club for the purpose of discussing political and philosophical questions, each member of which was obliged, once a month, to read out an essay of his own composition. The purchase of an indifferent paper, founded by Reisner, the printer, which he soon enlivened with articles teeming with wit and sound sense, increased both his reputation and his resources. In September 1731, he married Miss Read, and his prosperity from that time rapidly advanced.

[ocr errors]

office of postmaster to the city of Philadelphia. In 1738 he improved the police of that city with respect to the dreadful calamity of fire by forming a society called the Fire Company, to which was afterwards added an insurance company against losses by fire. Soon after this he commenced those electrical experiments which have conferred so much celebrity on his name. The Library Society of Philadelphia had received from England an account of the curious facts relative to electricity which then engaged the attention of the European philosophers, together with a tube for experiments, and directions for its use. The Society deputed Franklin to repeat those experiments, and he not only repeated them, but made several new discoveries; he was the first to observe the power of pointed bodies, both in drawing and in throwing off electric fire; and immediately, as his genius led him to applications, he conceived the idea of bringing down electricity from the clouds; for he had observed that thunder and lightning were only the effect of the electricity of the clouds. A simple toy enabled him to resolve this bold problem: he made a kite, which he covered with silk instead of paper, as being less likely to be injured by the rain; to the upper end of the kite he affixed an iron point, and having appended a key to the end of its hempen string, he drew down, from a passing thundercloud, electric fire, enough to yield sensible sparks from the key. He immediately perceived the utility of this discovery, as affording a means of preserving buildings from the effects of lightning, which are particularly alarming on the continent of North America. By means of pointed metallic conductors projecting from the top of the building, he conceived that the passing thunder-clouds might be made to discharge their fire silently and innoxiously; and such was the confidence in his opinion, that these conductors soon came to be generally used in America, and afterwards throughout Europe.

We have seen that he was a useful and a learned man, we will now view him as generous and philanthropic. In 1763, the schools were poor, ill directed, and badly attended; Franklin proposed a plan of public instruction, and in order to establish it, he opened a subscription list, which was soon filled: and it was thus he founded the College of Philadelphia. He was also greatly instrumental towards the foundation of the Philadelphia Hospital. But all his enterprises of public utility never diverted his attention from his private duties; he had acquitted himself so well in his office of post-master, that the government raised him to the important employment of deputy post-master general for the British Colonies, and the revenue soon felt the benefit of his attentions.

At a later period, after the Revolution of Boston, when the American war broke out, Franklin openly declared himself, in Congress, as favourable to liberty; he took an active part in the memorable Declaration of the 4th July, and proclaimed the national independence of the thirteen United States.

He was then elected president of the Convention at Philadelphia, assembled to settle a new form of government for the then State of Pennsylvania, and the result of the deliberations of that assembly may be considered as a digest of Dr. Franklin's principles of government.

Feeling how useful books had been to himself, as it was to them alone he was indebted for his education, he established a public library in Philadelphia, in 1731, (the first one ever known in America,) which, although it commenced with only fifty subscribers, became in course of time a large and valuable collection, the proprietors of which were eventually incorporated by royal charter; but while yet in its infancy, it afforded its founder facilities of improvement of which he did not fail to take advantage, setting apart an hour or two every day for study, which was the only amusement he allowed himself. In 1732 he commenced publishing his When, in 1776, it was deemed advisable by Congress celebrated almanac, commonly known by the name of to open a negotiation with France, Franklin, though Poor Richard's Almanac, in which a number of pru- then in his 71st year, was considered, from his talents dential maxims were inserted, distinguished by a pro- as a statesman, and reputation as a philosopher, the verbial point and conciseness, calculated to fix them most suitable person to effect the desired end; and he indelibly upon the memory: they have been collected was consequently nominated commissioner-plenipoteninto a single short piece, entitled "The Way to Wealth," tiary to the court of France. His residence in that which has been published in a variety of forms. In country did not prevent him from amusing himself with 1733, he began to teach himself the French, Italian, mechanical arts and sciences. Grateful for the kindness and Spanish languages, and revived his recollection of of Marie Antoinette, he made for her the first harthe Latin, which he had nearly forgotten. In 1736 he monicon which had ever been heard in France. This was appointed clerk to the General Assembly of Penn-precious instrument, given by the queen to Madame de sylvania; the following year he obtained the lucrative | Vince, is still in Paris, and has a place in the cabinet of

Professor Lebreton, who religiously preserves this historical memorial.

At the age of seventy-nine, his increasing infirmities made him desirous of returning to his native country; he was conveyed to Havre, on a litter, borne by Spanish mules, kindly placed at his disposal by the Queen of France, as the most easy mode for him to travel. On the road he experienced every mark of respect from several of the nobility and gentry whose châteaux lay adjoining, and particularly from the Cardinal de la Rochefoucault at Gaillon, where he passed a night, with his accompanying friends and attendants. He reached Havre safely without having experienced much inconvenience from the journey, and embarked in a small packet for Southampton, whence, after remaining a few days, he sailed for Philadelphia, where he landed safely on the 14th September, 1785.

The arrival of this great man was looked upon as a national triumph; he was borne to his house amid the acclamations and benedictions of the people, the ringing of bells and the firing of cannon. He received congratulatory visits and addresses from all the public bodies, every one being desirous to do him honour. He employed his latter years in exhorting his fellow-citizens to union his last work was upon the abolition of slavery.

He expired on the 17th April, 1790, at the age of eighty-four.

So great and universal was the regret for the loss of this great man, that a general mourning was put on throughout the United States; and in France, at the suggestion of Mirabeau, supported by MM. de la Rochefoucault, Liancourt, and Lafayette, the National Assembly ordered a public mourning of three days for Franklin.

COUNTRY SKETCHES.-No. VI.

THE RUINS OF CAISTER CASTLE,

THE advantage which a country long since civilized possesses over one whose plains and pastures are but half redeemed from their primeval state, is in nothing more manifest than in the constant recurrence of remains of the habitations, tempies, monuments, and memorials of successive generations of men; for these may be truly called the landmarks of time. In them and by them the historian and antiquarian are enabled to trace the progress of human thought and action; to see, as in a mirror, much that would be otherwise lost in the gloom and darkness of ages. Who shall say, too, that the moralist, the philosopher, and the practical man, does not glean from their inspection many valuable ideas of the past, many of the motives and aims of former actions, and many of the true causes and effects of human impulses? It is needless to remark that the artist and poet find in them a world of beauties, which seem exclusively to belong to bygone days; and which assist the imagination, and stimulate the fancy, when present life could afford no aid so powerful or interesting. In a new land, or in a country but slightly populated, there are none of these picturesque adjuncts to its natural beauties. In this respect, therefore, it suffers by comparison with older climes. Yet, in the aspect of ruins there is something mournful and saddening; reflections on the incidents that may have passed in old halls, where ivy now crowns the summit of every tower, and where the owl is sole tenant and master, will tend, for the time, to damp the spirits. The first sight of a castellated mansion, or crumbling monastery, ruinous and time-worn, produces a thrill of pleasure; but as the eye becomes accustomed to the view, and some solemn echo arouses the startled wanderer to contemplation of past grandeur, the same train of thought leads the mind insensibly, as it were, to the end of all things, to the grave, and to that day when

"The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself;
Yea, all which inherit, shall dissolve;
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind."

On the present occasion it is not, however, fitting to indulge in gloomy reveries, though the excursion is devoted to visiting a ruin, one of those relics of feudal times which are so replete with interest.

After quitting the town of Yarmouth, with its noble quay, the road northward soon leaves the sea and the long flat coast on the right hand, and after stretching across the marshes, where innumerable flocks of geese are feeding, arrives at Caister, a small village not particularly inviting in its aspect. Passing the church, with its flint-built tower and decorated porch, the corn, with its golden promise, is seen on either hand, and presents, with the green livery of the hedgerows and the scarlet brilliancy of the straggling poppies, such a happy combination of colour as cannot fail to impart cheerful and gentle thoughts. There are but few trees scattered here and there by the way-side. Proximity to the ocean seems ever fatal to the growth of forest trees; and in such situations they are seen bending their dwarfed limbs to the side farthest from their enemy. But we have come to a lane where several small oaks form by their leafy contiguity a pleasant avenue, and we will not pause longer to note these peculiarities of nature. This lane skirts the brink of a dell where gipsy tents are often seen, and soon approaches a farm-yard, where the long and narrow haystacks and the carefullytended dove-cotes, bespeak praises for the farming of Norfolk. Before reaching this secluded spot, the eye, roving in this direction, will have observed a tower, rising from amidst the surrounding trees. To reach it we must pass through the exterior part of the farm-yard.

This tower, which is a remnant of Caister Castle, is very interesting, and it is greatly to be regretted that so small a portion only has survived the wear and tear of centuries. All that now remains is this circular tower, which is of great height, and a range of walls on the north and west sides. On one of these walls there is a projecting corbel table, but the corbels and what is left of the arcs are both in a very dilapidated state. The tower itself has some extensive cracks near its base, and is also fast yielding to the stern hand of Time. The structure is of brick, with stone facings, the tracery of the windows and loop-holes being of the latter material. There is a fine arch yet standing, which was in all probability the entrance to the great hall. The castle must have been a place of much strength, and of large dimensions also, inasmuch as we are told by William of Worcester that the dining-room was fiftynine feet long, and twenty-eight feet broad.

Not many years ago the arms of the founder were to be seen over a bay window in the interior of the ruins. They were taken down and removed to Blickling, where they now serve as a principal ornament of that noble mansion. The moat, in part, remains, and increases the artistic effect of the castle.

Its history is not without interest. It was built by Sir John Fastolfe, in the early part of the fifteenth century. This gentleman was a Knight Companion of the most noble order of the Garter, and descended from a very ancient Norfolk family: he was first engaged in the service of the then Duke of Clarence, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, in which country he was married to the Lady Milicent, daughter of one Sir Thomas Tibitot, Lord deputy of Ireland, and relict of Sir Stephen Scrope. After this we find him engaged in various military capacities under John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford, during which period he became Marshal of the Regent's Household, Governor of Anjou and Maine, Captain of the city of Mans, of Alençon, and many other places; rewards, doubtless, of his prowess in the field. His campaigns extended over a period of forty years, and he

had for secretary the famous William of Worcester, to whom all subsequent chroniclers are so much indebted for his most valuable and accurate information. So far as has now been related, all is indisputable fact; yet, in the teeth of this evidence, we find Granger asserting that he retreated with disgrace at the battle of Putoy, and that the order of the Garter was taken from him as a punishment for his pusillanimity.

In the First Part of Henry the Sixth the same idea is carried out, and Fastolfe is spoken of by a messenger to the Dukes of Bedford, Glo'ster, and the Bishop of Winchester, in these words:

"Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up
If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward;
He being in the vayward, (plac'd behind,
With purpose to relieve and follow them,)
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke."

It is time to turn to the ruinous castle, however, and leave these inquiries as to the identity of the real Fastolfes and fictitious Falstaffs for abler commentators to establish or disprove.

Fortunately, the moat is perfect round the tower and west wall, and the shadows cast on the water on the one side by the ruins, mix with the umbrageous reflections of some old ash-trees on the opposite bank. There is no ivy on any part of the castle, but a pear-tree, carefully trained on the corner of the tower, aids the pleasant effect of the scene. It is the subject, above all others, constantly chosen for the pencil of all wandering artists, who are frequently at a loss to know which side to take; and where any choice must be a happy one, it becomes almost an impossibility to advise. To muse upon the spot, and recall the memorable age in which these vestiges were a fair specimen of a goodly baron's home, is to read a lesson upon the progress and advancement of

In the fourth act he is stripped of his order, and our enlightened age. Every thing has its uses— ordered off by the king in this wise:

"Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st thy doom, Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death." Holinshed and Hall are said to have been the probable authorities for this imputation on the knight's fame by Shakspeare.

That neither of them were chroniclers to be wholly and fully relied upon, is certain, as there are no collateral evidences to bear out the assertion of his cowardice. On the contrary, we hear of his return home, of his having finished this very castle with the ransom-money he received from John II., King of France, whom he captured at Vernuil in 1424; also of his second marriage with Margaret Howard, and of his being the founder of several religious and charitable edifices; the patron of worthy, valiant, and enlightened men. That William of Worcester should have been attached to the service of this gentleman is surely some testimony to his character. Whoever was the originator of the belief in Fastolfe's cowardice, it must not be laid to the charge of the immortal author of the play, for at the time it was written Holinshed was deemed a great authority.

There has existed in the minds of many able writers a great doubt as to whether the Bard of Avon was the veritable author of the three parts of Henry the Sixth. Hallam, the great historian, and Collier, a man whose respect for Shakspeare knows no bounds, both incline to this opinion. There are many very strong grounds for the belief that they were written by some dramatist of the preceding era, and altered or adapted for representation by Shakspeare. No one was so careful as he in the selection of his facts, and he would never have so degraded Fastolfe without some good authority for so doing. Now all veracious chroniclers concur in their account of his valour.

It has been said and believed that that inimitable creation, Falstaff, which most certainly is all Shakspeare's own, was taken from this same Sir John Fastolfe. But this, for many reasons, we beg leave to doubt. The Paston Letters contain nothing but what is to the credit and praise of Fastolfe; nothing to connect him in any one respect with Sir John, the fat knight, whose feats and acts have raised many a laugh, both in the solitude of the study and in the crowded theatre.

Sir John Fastoife occupies a very small share of our attention in the First Part of Henry the Sixth, whereas, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, and the First and Second Parts of Henry the Fourth, Sir John Falstaff is the chief actor, and monopolizes the most prominent situations. There is yet standing in the city of Norwich, in the district called Tombland, a rambling irregular house, which was owned by Fastolfe, and most likely used by him as a town residence. Two extraordinary carved figures of wood, called respectively Samson and Hercules, mount guard in the paved court, and forcibly recall old times.

"And this our life exempt from public haunt

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running streams,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything."

The ploughshare and the reaping-hook have taken the
place of sword and shield. The mailed warrior sleeps
in the rest that knows no waking; and the echoes of the
old walls ring no more with the shouts and din of the
retainers, cager alike for the banquet or the fray. A
new cycle in the world's history has supervened, and a
different race of thinking and acting men move in the
busy paths of life.

This castle owes its present condition to the circumstance of its having been besieged twice in the reign of Edward IV.; and to a lamentable fire, occasioned by the careless negligence of a servant girl, which completed the destruction man's wilful violence began. There is a neat dwelling close at hand, which in its trim and orderly aspect, forms a cheerful contrast to the decayed habitation of such far higher pretensions. Cows returning from pasture to be stalled and housed for the night, and a large stock of poultry of every description seeking their roosting places, are very suggestive objects of gentle English living.

Not out of place, but ever in keeping with the time and situation, is the voice of some wandering heron, flying over marshy brake to its nest; and the owl's peculiar cry comes upon the ear to remind the visitor of its association with ruined tower and tree. So there is music even in the ruined halls of Caister Castle, though dulcimer and lute are silent: nature, through her winged children, speaks in song, and completes all that is wanting to heighten the beauty, mournful though it be, of this retired solitude.

Poetry.

[In Original Poetry, the Name, real or assumed, of the Author, is printed in Small Capitals under the title; in Selections, it is printed in Italics at the end.]

THE LOST HOPE.

T. N. H.

AN Angel rose upon the wings of Night,
And Darkness it was Light;

The pale-eyed star-watch, trembling, shrink away,
As though at dawn of day.

The billows rag'd, the whirlwinds blew,
And the tempest wilder grew;

A vesper-bell chimes down the vale,
And hushes the uprising gale-

A note so soft and still, it woos the air,

And bids the storm-fiends back to their deep-fathom'd lair.

« IndietroContinua »