description of an inn at Cairo, we must, for the present, be content:

"Such a scene I never saw as the inn-yard. Imagine a small court containing a half-starved ostrich, looking like a spectre, a monkey, a lynx, donkeys innumerable, camels, dromedaries, Arabs, couriers, dragomen, waiting to be hired; and, in the midst of all, various specimens of the John Bull tribe, starting for India by way of Suez, in Mackintoshes, straw hats, pea-jackets, and every variety of costume. I must not forget a bevy of ladies in green veils and poke bonnets, waiting to be shut into boxes like diminutive sedans, to be jolted across the Suez desert, or looking in utter despair at the broken-down donkeys on which they were to trust themselves, if they preferred a quadruped to a packingcase. In spite of all the noise, crowd, and scramble, we found capital rooms and good accommodations for this country, where, in general, you have four walls, a stone floor, and a divan as your stock of furniture."

some affinity of this kind, and a sudden and lively joy will seize us; and if, by some glimpse of mind or understanding, the savage of New South Wales or Kamschatka proves to us that he belongs in any degree to the class, we shall be delighted to be able to acknowledge him.

Mankind is so truly that which pleases us, that we desire to see him everywhere; we everywhere require to have united, sympathetic beings, who reveal to us our own nature, and interest us in ourselves. What matters it to us that the tree lives the life of a tree, that it fulfils its vegetable destiny? Man has had need to take a more intimate share in that destiny; he has attached to it a being capable of feeling its changes, as he would himself have felt them; and because he has experienced some grief at seeing the young stem fall, and the young shoots fade, it has appeared to him that there should be in the stem a sorrow similar to his own, and which could alone justify it in his sight. If he has made the stones come out of their immoveable and senseless state, it is to lend them the language, the feelings, and the reason of man. If that reason prohibits his seeking for human mind and understanding in the animal he

MORAL REFLECTIONS; OR, ESSAYS ON MEN, cherishes, still it is by attributing to it affections and

MANNERS, &c.

BY MADAME GUIZOT.

On Man and Human Life.

ON SYMPATHY BETWEEN MAN AND MAN.

almost ideas similar to his own, that he becomes attached to it, makes it a companion, and at length persuades himself that he has made it a friend.

Yet more; never did the imagination of man create fanciful beings, never has it lent to real, but insensible or irrational beings, either feeling or reason, unless it were to make them a part in his own destiny. Man never separates himself from these creations of his mind, he VANVENARGUES has said: "Our enjoyments are has never found them indifferent to his fate, and forderived from mankind; all else is nought." It is, in saking him in the moment that he had given them fact, human nature that attracts and interests us, even being he has animated them either for or against himself. Enemies, or protectors, they have been to in those pleasures which seem to arise from things. A work of art strikes our attention; we seek in it the in time and space the opportunities in which he could him a means of extending his existence, of multiplying genius of the artist, we seek the artist himself. A have something to love or to fear, some hope to cherish, book pleases us: who would not regret being ignorant some interest to guard; in short, some portion of life of the author? Who would not be glad to see his por- to display beyond himself; so true is it, that man trait, still more so to see himself, to enjoy his conver- dwells not entirely in the visible individual, but that sation, to become acquainted with his character and his he feels himself existing wherever he can carry and unite his mind and his thought. Wherever you are, mind? There is among us all as it were a family secret, whatever may be your ambition and your career, do not a sort of mark by which we acknowledge one another, give yourself entirely up to society; contrive to cultiand which we wish to perceive, in order to be assured vate in yourself a taste for solitude, and the scenes of of the relationship. Until then, we hold ourselves in nature; there is in it a language which we must never reserve; we watch one another with anxious curiosity. fail to comprehend, supplies for which we should hold A celebrated man enters a circle in which he is only ourselves in reserve. Some day perhaps a clear sky, a known by name: see how every one examines him, beautiful sun, alone will bring peace to the troubled how they study his features, his movements; it seems mind, or restore it to that firmness which leads to as though he would do well to prove that he is not an peace. It is in the country that the return of spring animal of a peculiar kind. As soon as he opens his will restore a mind, dejected and weakened from long mouth people are tempted to exclaim with astonish- protracted sufferings, or a heart withered by bitter ment-" He speaks!" His words and actions are col-regrets. It is there that the diversified activity of lected and related to prove that he is made like others, nature destroys the monotony of a retired life, that the that he is a man. If he be surprised in any of those hopes of every year amuse the imagination, and somesimple occupations common to every one, in which the times deceive the heart, under the disappointments of least skilful will take quite as much pleasure as he, the life. He who can be instructed in his flowers, his enchantment is at its height; people almost thank fruits, or his crops, will never be without a wish and a him, at least they love him for it. This is because hope; the old man, even to his latest day, will smile at they have discovered that he belongs to the family. the thought of a pleasure which may yet bloom again This tie of relationship delights us in the commonest for him; and amid those passing, but soon returning as well as in the most distinguished beings. Let a man enjoyments, amid those flowers which are incessantly be inferior in station, in education, in appearance, if falling and renewing, the dreadful idea of the instability we perceive in him a sentiment which assimilates him of happiness and life fading never to revive, will to us, we are as much delighted as we should be at disappear. getting a glimpse of that in a superior man, which places him within our reach. What pleasure, in reading the works of distant ages, to meet with I know not what affinity of sentiments or opinions which makes us recognise a relation in Cicero, or some other, much more ancient than he! Indian, Chinese, Laplander, Hottentot, however obscure your name may be to us, however foreign to us may be your destiny, let but a movement, a gesture, a sign from you, make us feel

There are degrees of misfortune which we cannot get out of, but by an extraordinary degree of virtue. A common distress will only admit of common efforts. To astonish others by our firmness and resolution, we must at the same time astonish them by our misfortunes. The property of genius is to make up for experience.

The finest privilege that glory gives, is to be able to acknowledge its weaknesses.

There are a thousand ways of nobly receiving a | and gave it in some sort a new being, to which it was favour; I do not know of one in which it could be ex- compelled to unite. pected with dignity.

In order to be happy in this world, people should never expect all that they think they merit.

ON WOMAN.

Freed from passions, it felt the power of circumstances; a situation of difficulty; an existence on which the existence of others depended, oblige the most disinterested man to make his own concerns his first consideration; to protect incessantly that which his character Of all tyrants, custom is that which to sustain would most incline him to part with. At length, the itself stands most in need of the opinion which is old man becomes more independent; those whom he entertained of its power; its only strength lies in that used to support, are now able to provide for themselves; which is attributed to it. A single attempt to break delivered from the weight of management, he sees his the yoke soon shows us its fragility. But the chief expenses are too contracted, and he disposes of his property of custom is to contract our ideas, like our income more freely. All his sacrifices will be personal; movements, within the circle it has traced for us; it he can enjoy them without constraint, and without governs us by the terror it inspires for any new and scruple, and there remains abundance for him to do. untried condition. It shows us the walls of the prison" In youth," says Madame de Lambert, "people think within which we are inclosed, as the boundary of the of you; in old age, you must think of others." This, world; beyond that, all is undefined, confusion, chaos; which is an active duty with women, who are usually it almost seems as though we should not have air to burthened with the details of life for those who are breathe. Women especially, liable to that fear which around them, is generally passive with men, and is consprings from ignorance, rather than from knowledge of sidered a merit in those who perform them. But to what one has to fear, easily allow themselves to be women, the active exercise of kindness can give a governed by custom; but when once broken, they also charm and an interest to the latest portion of their life. as easily forget it. Á man has less trouble in making For men, to whom these little details are unsuited, to up his mind to a change of condition; a woman has whom great emotions are not more suited, kindness can less in supporting it; she accustoms herself to it for hardly ever be any thing but indulgence, privation, the same reason that she has hitherto done so, and will renouncement. Those regards, those cares, those deferences due to his age, he will not know how to exact, and are yielded with much more pleasure for not being demanded as a tribute; he can smile at a forgotten duty which had only himself for its object, he can enjoy the jokes of others made upon himself, as well as those upon his acquaintances.

still continue to do so.

In the total overthrow which has produced so many changes of fortune among us, we have seen men extricate themselves by their courage and industry; and some, by unremitting exertion, have been able to return to nearly their former position; but nearly all the women, almost without exception, accommodated themselves to their new situation, and they have been quite astonished to learn so quickly and so easily, that what one woman has done, another is able to do also.

ON CHARACTER. THE COMPLAINER.

The man who is fond of complaining, likes to remain amidst the objects of his vexation; it is at the moment that he declares them insupportable, that he will most strongly revolt against every means which could be proposed for his deliverance. Indecision is in his character, and the misfortune of having to decide would be to him the greatest of all; for a choice always supposes a preference for some advantage, or an inconvenience to be shunned; and this man would not wish it to be supposed, or to suppose himself, that there is a single circumstance in his life in which he is able to follow his inclinations, or meet with an advantage: that there is even one in which he is not obliged to have the greatest possible inconvenience. He therefore increases misfortune, he wishes for mishaps; the fatal influence of his destiny is his favourite topic. A power against which no act can set him free, which compels him to suffer, without being able to protect himself, and permits him to complain without the fear of obtaining justice, this is what suits him he asks nothing better than to sigh over his position, and to remain in it.

:

Fickleness of conduct ought to be the consequence of impetuosity alone: but in frivolous characters, it is the inclination that becomes exhausted, and which, incapable of any long effort, lazily lets fall that which it had at first seized with avidity. In the zeal of steady characters, it is the object alone which eludes the vigour of their grasp; it is the soap bubble that vanishes, not their ardour in the pursuit of it. Show them an object capable of supporting the opinion they have attached to it, and then they are fixed.

MORAL SENTIMENTS.

The truly good, noble, and virtuous mind, acquires with age a sort of agreement between his inclinations, and his principles, which seems to bring it to its true point of maturity and perfection. Be it generous, it was taught from its youth, that forgetfulness of self, which is the spring of every virtue; but passions arose,

does it proceed from his age? certainly not; it is in But this indulgence, this forbearance of the old man, spring that the buds shoot forth of that fruit which we see ripen in autumn for the winter provision. The virtues of the old man would not have been so affecting, so venerable, had they not been the result of the efforts of his whole life. In the veneration which he inspires, he appears to place before our view a picture of the different ages he has travelled through with honour: every thing about him wears an imposing aspect, even to that long life, even to that remainder of health and strength, of which the old man is so justly entitled to feel proud.

THE WORLD.-ON CONVERSATION.

Observe two children of the same age meeting and entering into conversation: they will talk of their dolls, if they are little boys; they understand one another if they are little girls; of their balls and their tricks, admirably, and do not grow weary of being together. Observe the lower class of women: one speaks, another answers, their chatter does not flag for an instant; they talk and listen by turns with so much interest, with so much ardour; if there be a moment's pause, it is filled that is felt in the subject they are discussing; every up with exclamations which prove the deep interest those persons have ever learned the art of conversation? one present appears to be equally pleased. Is it that

Enter into a circle of the higher class, who have probably been told how to make themselves agreeable in conversation: one yawns inwardly, because he is well educated; another holds a newspaper in his hand, which he has read; some one speaks, another, to make it appear that he had been listening, answers by a yes, or a smile, which excuses him from having heard, and they again fall back into silence. But what is there surprising in this? Of those persons thus brought together, one passes his time at his estate, which he must improve, and can only talk about hay, the price of corn, and the roguery of the timber merchants; this one knows nothing except of the theatre, the fashions, or a new novel; that one lives in his study with Homer, commentators, or sages; this one is a politician; that one a lawyer. What point of contact can they have?

what would be the bond of common conversation among | sitely truthful and more solemn moral sentiments than them?

we are an improving people, and are giving our idle | movements of men in all states and conditions of society, money to our Tennysons, our Leigh Hunts, our from the peasant to the peer? And the birth-place of Sheridan Knowleses, and others, who are yet breathing this man, this high priest of Nature, is to be converted and thinking creatures in this vast community. Shall into a travelling show! Imagine an Englishman being we be derided, forsooth, because of the faults and requested to walk up, as he would to Richardson's carafollies of our predecessors? Is the flower that blossoms van, or some itinerant Mrs. Jarley's wax-work, where, so freely and so sweetly to-day, to smell only of the for the low price of twopence, he may see the room earth from whence it sprang? Shall it not, in rising where Shakspeare was born! Let the mind of an upwards, catch something of the spiritual fragrance of Englishman carry him to this exhibition, and suppose, heaven? Are the airs that surround it so heavy with as a fitting pendant to this profanation, he should hear blight and all noxious vapours, that it can waft no the showman, wearied and exhausted with the labours of gentle sweetness of its own to purify and fill the world his calling, reply to the question of an urchin, anxious it lives in? for information and intelligence as to the precise apartment, in some such country-fair fashion as the often quoted and familiar phrase, "Whichever you please, my little dear." It is too much; so gross an outrage on all good taste, on all proper feeling, will surely never be submitted to. Yet what more likely to happen, if the humble dwelling be transported across the wide Atlantic, and carried on wheels from New York to Boston, and so as occasion serves through all the United States, the latest novelty from England, and the immediate successor in attractiveness to the little general hight Tom Thumb? And this insult is to be offered to the fame and name of William Shakspeare, the man that all the world hath delighted to honour, the man of whom a German critic has said, "Hat doch auch Shakspeare's Ruhm den Weg zu allen Erdtheilen gefunden, wohin nur Britanniens Dreizack gedrungen ist." If the sum required to purchase that which ought to be exclusively the property of the British nation, be so large as to become a serious matter to one individual, why may not a committee of gentlemen associate and act together, so that by subscriptions we shall retain in its only proper place a habitation so remarkable, so every way worthy men's honour and respect.

Oh! it may be well to call us a mercantile people, plodders and workers in base metal; but we have our intellectualities about us, and can boast of our vigorous and inflexible Carlyles, our classic and far-seeing Macaulays; and rejoicing in the chaste outpourings of a sweet army of literary penwomen, who, in prose and in verse, are constantly on the alert to gladden us with their lofty aspirings, can truly testify that the empire of mind is extending its sway in all directions o'er our path. Yet stay, countrymen, I beseech you to have patience, and give an attentive ear to the public crier. Rumour-that same Rumour whom our own loved Shakspeare has employed to so good a purpose - hath spoken in no mysterious manner within these few weeks past, and hath proclaimed to all whom it may concern, that the HOUSE and HOME of SHAKSPEARE (the very walls where first he saw the light) is in the market, and will be sold, mal gré bon gré, ere the summer leaves have passed to their place of nothingness and dust. And Rumour adds, that our Government will not make it public property; still further reporting, that some speculative Americans are on the watch to make it their own, and by some contrivance carry it out of the country, and plant in their own home this trophy of their enterprise and England's everlasting shame. Now this concerns us much, and well shall we deserve the opprobrium of all nations if an indignity like this is to be suffered. Readers of Shakspeare, think of it; fathers, who have, as English fathers ought, turned down page after page of the plays of our history, for your sons to read and strive to learn the spirit of the heroes that therein fought and fell; mothers, who have beside your knitting and your calm domestic occupations read to your heeding lasses of the faith and virtue of Imogen, of the justice and judgment of Portia, and spoken of the friendship even unto death of Beatrice, the merry hearted but womanly Beatrice; men, poets, philosophers, ye whose life has been ever moving with the sun, or ye whose progress onward has been marked with the briars and thorns of life's sad sorrows and reverses, one and all I call on you to prevent this tasteless desecration. To Shakspeare you all must owe much-more than you can ever in a lifetime pay in other coin than by homage to his genius and his excellence. Prevent it by all possible means, strive by some method

"to intermit the plague

That needs must light on this ingratitude."

Do not allow such a transaction to become the by-word
of the many enlightened foreign tourists who annually
visit this island. Be assured, my countrymen, the eyes
of Europe will be upon you. In such a case, why seek
for evidence to support and sustain it?

"Ma che cerco, argomenti? Il cielo giuro,
Il ciel che n'ode, e ch'ingannar non lice;
Ch'allorchè si rischiara il mondo-oscuro
Spirito errante il vidi ed infelice,

Che spettacolo, oimè, crudele e duro!"

It is useless, it would be unavailing, here to sum up the extraordinary merits of this great man. His works, are they not met with from one end of the world to the other? are they not the companion of every student who seeks to master the knowledge of mankind, and the various impulses and motives that regulate the

It is to be regretted that when Shakspeare wrote his
memorable epitaph, in which he threatens the disturber
of his mortal remains with his potent malediction, he
did not extend the curse upon those who should do
similar violence to the roof that sheltered his earliest
years. Within a very short period Schiller's house was
disposed of; in that instance, the town council met as
one man, and buying what they justly considered as the
town's own, presented it as the freehold for ever and aye
of the town. Shall Englishmen be laggards, and refuse
to follow so noble an example?-shall we not rather
strive to effect so desirable a consummation, and be
happy in our well doing? Yes! let us prove ourselves
as sincere in our estimation of the most wonderful of
minds, as was his friend, rare Ben Jonson, who, mourn-
ing his untimely death, spake of him thus:-
"But stay, I see thee in the hemisphere

Advanced, and made a constellation there!
Shine forth, thou star of poets, and with rage
Or influence, chide or cheer the drooping stage,
Which, since thy flight from hence, hath mourn'd like night,
And despairs day, but for thy volume's light."

Yes! think of the spoliation of a poet's home, ye who have travelled so often through the manifold scenes he the house where Shakspeare was born,-think of it, and has depicted; think of Statford-upon-Avon deprived of

session of a relic so inestimable, so priceless. Let genius
Let not Brother Jonathan exult in the pos-
prevent it.
have its dues. Let the mighty English Magician be
your watchword, to hinder the contemplated sacrilege,
and so let us keep every remnant that belongs to his
history, as a treasure the most costly of our world of Art.
The biography of him is but a meagre and unsatis-
factory affair. Let us not then part with the little we
do possess, that helps to enlighten us of his actual life
and manner of living.

Countrymen of Shakspeare! attend to this matter, and leave to your children, and your children's children, a glorious legacy-the power of appreciating the worth of the mightiest intellect that ever swayed the hearts and minds of men.