familiar terms with Schuppanzigh the fiddler, as with Lichnowsky the prince of the empire: and if he liked the great, he is not the only artist or poet who has felt the charm of a gracious manner, and has found pleasure in the society of those who have by tradition the art of pleasing.

His political opinions suffered no injury from this; for he never disguised or softened them-never whilst appreciating the guinea-stamp' of rank forgot that his respect was due only to humanity. He was from first to last a strong republican by conviction and by sentiment. His sympathy with the French Revolution is well known; not less his outburst of wrath when the news came of the establishment of the Empire. He watched with careful interest the growth of the republican spirit in Germany. He had no theories to which his opinions must be assimilated; his republicanism was as spontaneous as everything else in this true child of nature. The only trace of insincerity is in the famous story of his walk with Goethe, when he refused to salute the imperial family; and this rests on Bettina's evidence, and may, therefore, be highly coloured: or, if true, what is more likely than that Beethoven should have amused himself at the expense of his courtly friend, whose friendship he would have prized, but disdained his patronage? Beethoven's religious sentiments are a mystery. Haydn called him flatly an atheist. He certainly was not an atheist -as certainly he was not the child of the Church like Haydn or Mozart. His republican politics were reflected in his religious views. He disliked priests; he despised ceremonies; and seldom saw the inside of churches. But though his belief tended to free thought rather than to any dogmatic system, there is no doubt that his mind was deeply reverential and even devotional in its aspirations. Many passages in his note-books attest this. Two sentences, which he had written out and hung up in a frame above his writing-table, were his often-quoted confession of faith:-I am that which exists. I am all that was, that is, that is to be. No mortal man has 'raised my veil.' 'He is alone of Himself; and to

• Him alone all things owe their being.'

And, indeed, if there were no positive evidence to this effect, it is impossible to believe that the Second Mass is mere notes, without religious feeling underlying all. His biographers say that at no time of his life was he so completely removed from the earth as during the composition of this work and who can doubt that when he conceived the ardent

* Mühlbrecht, p. 40.

aspiration of the Kyrie,' the triumphant glory of the 'Et resurrexit,' the peace and hope, the self-abasement and divine trust of the Agnus Dei,' the Master felt by power of faith, as well as by imagination, the realities which expressed themselves in immortal tones? Ins Unendliche zu greifen,' was his aim and his achievement in this great work. Unless we would repeat and magnify the miracle of Goethe's 'Con'fession of a fair Saint,' and ascribe to dramatic interest more than it ever produced in this region of art, we must acknowledge in the aspirations of this Mass the feelings of a man capable of the highest reverence, and full of a sense of human weakness and divine presence. "You Protestants cannot conceive what we feel when the Body of the Lord goes by,' said Haydn: and if Beethoven's view of the Mass was rather that of a mystic than of a Catholic, still we may be sure that in the forms of the Catholic Service he enshrined all that his thought conceived of sacrament and sacrifice; what to Beethoven's soul was the reality of the Beatific Vision.

It is not our business to judge Beethoven as an artist. The generation which has succeeded him has accepted and ratified all his claims to homage. Bach may excel him in science, Handel in majesty, Mozart in sweetness: but no musician has ever felt so deeply-no one has so combined the heights and depths of passion; so written the life of humanity into music; so spoken to the hearts of men in the whole scale of emotion. And our labour will not have been wasted if we have been able in this sketch to show that his life did not wholly jar with his music; that in his tenderness and faithfulness of heart, his uprightness and truthfulness, in his anger and his repentance, his moody sorrow and buoyant gladness, is shown the same greatness of nature of which the truest and highest expression is his music.

ART. IV.-1. The Cuban Question and American Policy. New York: 1869.

2. Facts about Cuba. (Published under the authority of the New York Cuban Junta.) New York: 1870.

3. The Book of Blood; an authentic Record of the Policy adopted by Modern Spain to put an end to the War of Independ ence in Cuba. New York: 1871.

4. La Verdad Historica sobre Sucesos de Cuba. Por F. XAVIER CISNEROS. Nueva York: 1871.

5. Cuba, with Pen and Pencil. By SAMUEL HAZARD. 8vo. Hartford, Connecticut: 1871.

HE insurrection in Cuba has hitherto attracted but little I notice in Europe. Ever since it first broke out public attention, in our own quarter of the globe, has been monopolised by a series of events of stupendous importance, and of an interest not impaired by a remote geographical situation. In fact few people in this country accurately realise the fact that for upwards of four years an obstinate and bloody civil war has been raging in that distracted island. Probably fewer still are aware that a not inconsiderable portion of the colony is de facto ruled by an insurgent government professing to be guided by the provisions of a written constitution, formally adopted by a more or less perfect National Convention assembled for the purpose of drawing it up; that there is an elective legislature passing laws, an executive carrying them out, and a judicial body vindicating and expounding them; and that a by no means diminutive army has been continuously maintaining a fierce contest with the troops of the mother-country.

Yet a great, even a romantic, interest would seem to attach to the affairs of Cuba. The island itself is rich, beautiful, and fertile. It has been described as 'that garden of the West, 'gorgeous with perpetual flowers and brilliant with the plumage of innumerable birds, beneath whose glowing sky the teeming earth yields easy and abundant harvest to the toil of man, and whose capacious harbours invite 'the commerce of the world.' In the words of Columbus, it is the most beautiful land that ever eyes beheld.' It was amongst the earliest discoveries of the great Admiral; its capital has become the final

In an article (attributed to the poet Longfellow) on the 'Poetry of Spanish America,' in the North American Review' for January,

resting-place of his remains. It was the scene of the stirring adventures of Ojeda, and of the early labours of Las Casas. From its ports sailed Cortez to conquer the empire of Montezuma, and De Soto to dissipate the spoils of Peru, and lose his life, amidst those great discoveries which have immortalised his name. It has, as Humboldt says, a charm that is wanting to the greater part of the New World. It presents remembrances linked with the greatest names of the Spanish Monarchy, those of Christopher Columbus and Hernan ' Cortez.'

Among the first fruits of Spanish maritime discovery it remains almost the last considerable remnant of the vast colonial empire of Spain. The names of its mountains, its harbours, its rivers, continually recall the heroic age of colonisation and nautical enterprise. For us in England it should have an almost peculiar interest. The capture of its capital by the British forces, in 1762, was the work of the greatest expedition that ever crossed the Atlantic. In the present century a considerable portion of our navy has been engaged in a nearly continuous attempt to suppress the slave-trade so persistently carried on in its waters; and many, alas! too many, of our fellow-countrymen have fallen victims to the unhealthy climate and the arduous service' amongst its cays and channels. To the readers of modern English literature the scene of the insurrection should be classic ground; for it is in a district of which the capital is the city of Santiago de Cuba, so admirably described in those inimitable West Indian sketches, Tom Cringle's Log.'

The history of Cuba has been emphatically a troublous one. Its wealth and its defenceless condition excited the cupidity, and justified the hopes, of the earliest buccaneers. Its long stretch of sea-coast-more than fifteen hundred geographical miles-and its numerous harbours and inlets invited and facilitated their attacks. As far back as 1517 and 1518, French filibusters, in search of booty, entered its newly-settled ports; and like forays continued to be made for many years subsequently. Our own countrymen largely took part in them. An attack upon Havannah in 1585 was amongst the exploits of Drake and in the following century the redoubted buccaneer Morgan penetrated to the town of Puerto Principe, almost in the centre of the island. To the buccaneers succeeded the privateers, who in our war with Spain swarmed out from Jamaica and the Bahamas. These in their turn were succeeded by many of the citizens of the revolted Spanish colonies in South America; and in more recent times by

:

filibustering parties of Mexican propagandists, or Cuban sympathisers (as they were called), from New Orleans.

The internal history of the island has not been more tranquil. The present is merely one (the most formidable and important one certainly) of a series of risings against the government of the mother-country, which began more than half-a-century ago. Almost the first recorded symptom of political trouble was the arrival in the colony of agents of the intrusive king of Spain, Joseph Bonaparte. The example of the South American colonies not unnaturally caused considerable emotion amongst the Cubans, whose island had during the period of Joseph's reign remained faithful to the Bourbon dynasty. The Marquis of Someruelos-at that time governor of the colony-energetically opposed the attempts of the colonists to imitate their compatriots of the continent. But the election of the Cortes in the mother-country, and the promulgation of the democratic constitution of 1812, led to more serious results. Amongst the ideas which found favour with the members of the new Cortes, that of the abolition of slavery had a somewhat prominent place. Notices of the discussions of this subject found their way to Cuba, and to the knowledge of the coloured population, in spite of the efforts of Someruelos to prevent it; and risings took place on various estates in the year 1812. These risings were said to be traced to a conspiracy headed by a free man of colour, who was afterwards executed. They were soon put down.

The proclamation at Cadiz in 1820 of the Constitution of 1812, and the re-establishment of constitutional Government in Spain, after its abolition on the return of Ferdinand VII. in 1814, gave rise to new troubles in Cuba. During the election of members of the new Cortes, numerous conflicts took place at Havannah; and then, perhaps, first broke out that bitter enmity between the Cubans and the Spaniards of the mother-country, which has led to such sanguinary results in the present struggle. In 1823 occurred the Conspiracy of the Soles,' which is chiefly memorable in that the alleged object of the conspirators was to prevent a pretended sale of the island to Great Britain. In the same year absolute Government was again restored in Spain; and an attempt in favour of the Constitution, which was quickly suppressed, was made at the important city of Matanzas. This attempt was headed by an officer of the garrison, and was one of those military pronunciamentos which have become so common in Spain and her now independent colonies. Another conspiracy was discovered in 1829: it was called that of the

VOL. CXXXVIII. NO. CCLXXXII.

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