Though desolate it still can yield to melody's sweet | Other questions succeeded until the Sphynx was moored spell. in the harbor, and then followed, amidst the embraces Oh, cast him on the stormy sea, when Death rides on of friends and relatives, more minute inquiries and parthe surge, ticular replies touching the events of the games, which And sea-nymphs chant around his head a melancholy then excited an interest in every land where the Greek dirge, tongue was spoken, of which the moderns can form While struggling with the giant waves, from their em- but little conception. Preparations for the customary brace to flee, sacrifices to Diana of the Ephesians, Neptune, and the That lov'd one's voice is whispering of halls beneath Winds, in grateful return for the prosperous voyage, the sea. were quickly made. And as far down he swiftly sinks, and billows o'er him A thousand phantasies appear, and o'er his vision come; Go place him in the battle's front, where death and car- II. The crowds which shortly before covered the spacious quays had nearly all dispersed, when a young man for whom no one appeared to wait, and who had sought no one in the joyful multitude, stepped on shore, bearing all his baggage in a small scrip. His countenance wore an expression of the deepest melancholy, which could not have escaped notice, had not the sighs which broke from his breast, and the half dried tears which stained his cheeks, sufficiently testified that his bosom shared he bent his steps along the quays, and shortly gained none of the general joy. Instead of seeking his home, the suburbs, passing rapidly through which, he sought the open country. Here throwing himself upon the ground, he gave way to the most passionate expresThe wild and lingering look he casts, as heaven's own sions of sorrow. "Cursed folly" he exclaimed "that arch of blue, And his country's flag unsullied is his warrior-winding sheet; When from his heart is oozing fast the darkly purple tide, And victory's shout a moment fills his dying eye pride with Like the vision of a summer dream, fades slowly from his view, Speaks-clearly speaks-of vision'd joys-of home beheld once more Of the image of the one-loved form in sorrow bending o'er. EROSTRATUS. induced me to believe that glory was to be obtained by merit, and that the applauses of the crowd could be won by him who has no gold in his purse to purchase their praises. Cursed be the books of the Philosophers which teach"-"Erostratus," exclaimed a young man who, unobserved, had approached and gazed on him with astonishment, "what mischance has so disordered you, that instead of seeking your friend's house, I find you embracing our mother earth, and outshining our first tragedians? Is this a specimen of some successful drama which you have been composing, or"-"Metazulis," said Erostratus, "cease these ill-timed pleasantries. I have just returned from the Olympic games"-"I know Early in the afternoon of an autumn day, in the first it," interrupted Metazulis. "I was from home when the year of the hundred and fifth Olympiad, the keeper of Sphynx arrived, and had I not learned from our neighthe light-house which then marked the entrance of the bor Polisphercon that you and he had been fellow pasharbor of Ephesus, announced the approach of a vessel, sengers, I should have assured myself that the charms which, from its size and proportions, he decided of Corinth had proved stronger than your patriotism. to be from Corinth or Athens. Crowded, as the port of Excuse my interruption, and pardon a friend's inquiring Diana's favorite city at that time was, with sails from why these tears? why this anguish? Have you reevery maritime town in the Mediterranean, where turned without that heart, which you once vowed to commerce was cultivated, the arrival of a vessel was Diana should never leave your keeping, and without an event of hourly occurrence, yet the news of the ap- the blue-eyed maiden who has robbed you of it?” “No proach of this spread rapidly through the city. The ma- Metazulis, replied his friend, forcing a melancholy gistrate left the bench, the merchant forsook his ware-smile, "my heart is safe as though blue-eyed maidens house, and the mechanic dropped his tools. All hastened had never been-but I went to Olympia, puffed up with to the quay. It was expected that this vessel brought the senseless expectation of gracing my brow with the the news of the results of the Olympic games. With wreath of poetry, which now encircles the head of a such rapidity the lusty rowers plyed their oars, that wealthy churl who feasted the judges. His name is the most experienced eye could scarcely decide whether celebrated through the cities of Greece; mine is unmenthe approaching bark carried three or four banks. The tioned, save as that of the deluded Ephesian who dared helms-man was singing the prize verses of the games, to put his doggrel in competition with the rich strains in which all the oars-men joined at intervals as a chorus. of the rich Leonidas. But I forever forswear”—“ ForSoon she neared sufficiently for the pilots, who stood swear nothing" cried Metazulis. "Be not discouraged upon an eminence, to decide that she was the Sphynx by a single failure. The next judges may be honester, of Corinth. She presently came within speaking dis-and in four years the strengthened wings of your muse tance, and the name of the victor in the poetic contest will achieve higher flights." "And Leonidas may bewas demanded. "Leonidas of Mægara," was the reply. I come richer," said Erostratus. "flow often, how often," said Metazulis," have I had to censure my friend's faint | Cratinus of Platea arose, as soon as the applause began heart, discouraged at the slightest disappointment! to subside. Four times had the crown been decreed to Who ever swam a river at a single stroke? Make my Cratinus, and he now aspired the fifth time to that house your home. Let poetry continue your study. My honor. The hitherto unconquered Cratinus began, and sister's lyre shall accompany your odes. We will strive scarcely had he recited twenty lines, when even Metato put off the partiality of friends, and play the critics zulis admitted in his heart the superiority of this poem upon your works. I warrant not a spot shall meet the to that of his friend. Cratinus was loudly cheered, and eye in the next production you lay before the Olympicin justice would have been more so, had not a large Judges." Putting his arm into that of Erostratus, who proportion of the audience been prepossessed in favor offered no resistance, he led him to the city. III. Henceforth the streets of Ephesus rarely echoed to the footsteps of Erostratus. Immured in the house of the friendly Metazulis, his whole soul was occupied with the ardent hope of gaining the prize for poetry at the next Olympic games. The encouragement of Metazulis and Lesbia, had fanned into a flame the spark of ambition not to be extinguished in his breast. Every day did his impatience increase, and nightly, upon retiring to his couch, would he reckon that a day less was between him and immortal glory. The poems and odes which fell from his pen, fell not faster than they were wedded to music by the enthusiastic Lesbia. Unhappy Lesbia! it was not in thy nature to behold such kindred genius and remain unmoved! A fire was in thy breast, bright and unquenchable, save by death! Poor Lesbia! Her admiration of the poet blinded her to the most glaring defects of the poetry, and the living Erostratus, whom she daily saw, seemed to her superior to all the poets who had sung since the days of Deucalion. Four years rolled by in poetry, music, and, though of Erostratus. Applause well merited followed the conclusion of the Judgment of Paris, (such was the theme of Cratinus) and then a breathless silence succeeded, whilst the judges compared their opinions. We cannot describe the anxiety of Erostratus in this interval. He trembled, a cold sweat bedewed his body, and leaning upon the breast of his friend, his life seemed to hang upon the decision. The presiding judge at length arose Cratinus; and Erostratus fell senseless in Metazulis arms. For a long time he remained insensible, and his friend was beginning to fear that his hopes and his life had terminated together, when he began to revive; but having murmured "the crown, the crown,” he fell into a second swoon. So great an effect had the destruction for some days there appeared scarcely a possibility of of his long cherished hopes produced upon him, that his recovery. During this time Metazulis wrote to his sister the following letter. and delivered the award. The crown was decreed to "Weep with me Lesbia. Our friend has failed, Cratinus, of Platea has obtained the prize, Erostratus is dangerously ill. The physicians bid me hope—I have none. Should he recover from the fever which now threatens to terminate his life, what a life will be his! V. neither seemed conscious of it, in-love. The hymn to Ceres, upon which Erostratus now builds his hopes, is completed, and pronounced perfect by Metazulis, and Lesbia. Lesbia gives her brother and his friend the parting embrace, and with her scarf, waves them again and again farewell from the terraced roof. She is not to see Erostratus again until his brows are shaded with the crown of victory. Prosperous winds wafted on their The medical attendants were not disappointed. A course Erostratus and his friend, who had left his home and his sister, to share with his adopted brother the first month having elapsed, Erostratus left the couch of sicktriumphs of success. A few days were spent in luxu-ness; but another passed by before Metazulis thought rious Corinth by the travellers, and postponing a more ample view until their return, they departed for Olympia, where they arrived after a journey, which to Erostratus seemed to occupy an age. IV. With the usual ceremonies the games were opened, and the first, second, and third days devoted to chariot races and the athletic exercises. The fourth day was assigned to the claimants of the palm for poesy. Erostratus was the first competitor who rose. His feelings at first overpowered him, but a look from Metazulis, a burst of applause from the countless multitude, and more than all, a thought of the moment when he should lay the meed of victory at the feet of Lesbia, encouraged him. His voice was at first low and indistinct, but as the plaudits increased, he became more animated, and towards the close, the delivery was worthy of the poem. The hymn being ended, the lengthened shouts dispelled all fear of failure from his mind, and he fancied he already felt the olive wreath upon his temples. A single competitor appeared to contest with him the prize, many having withdrawn upon the conclusion of his ode. his strength sufficient to warrant his proposing their return. Erostratus made no opposition. The love he felt for Lesbia, (with which the ravings of his delirium had acquainted Metazulis,) urged his return, although he felt that he scarcely dared appear before her. The task of diverting his mind from the sad recollections which occupied it, was painful and difficult. Metazulis proposed visiting the curiosities of nature, and the cele brated works of art, which lay contiguous to their route. To this Erostratus made no objection, but his eye, once so delighted with all that was beautiful and sublime, now gazed upon them without pleasure. Metazulis left Corinth in the first vessel which departed, anxious to see his sister, and to bear his friend from Greece, where every thing conspired to bring to his mind his failures. Far different were the feelings with which Erostratus had entered Corinth, and now bade it a final farewell. They reached Ephesus. Metazulis found none of his domestics awaiting his return; but what was their anxiety, their horror, upon finding the house closed, and the door-posts marked with the insignia of death! They hastily opened the door. All is silence and desolation. Erostratus rushes to the sitting room, where he had parted from Lesbia. Metazulis following, arrives to see him fall senseless upon the couch, whereon reposed BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. the dead body of his sister, at whose head sat the motionless domestics, murmuring the prayers for the departed. VI. In a month after the ashes of Lesbia had been consigned to the tomb, those of Metazulis were laid beside them. The wealth of Metazulis was now the property of Erostratus, but could gold purchase peace for his anguished soul? Never was he seen to smile, and his solitary hours (and how few of his hours were not solitary?) were passed in grief and lamentation. The love of immortality remained inextinguishable in his breast, and he resolved upon an achievement which should give his name a place in the page of history; and in the moments of his phrenzy, he imagined that the name of Lesbia would appear in the record with his, and that this would be accepted by her shade as an atonement on his part, for the fate in which her love for him had involved her. In the middle of a dark and tempestuous night, he applied a torch to that temple, the boast of Ephesus, the wonder of the world! The Greek historians of after days asserted that the goddess was in Macedon attending to the birth of Alexander. Her fane was destroyed and reduced to a mass of blackened ruin. Erostratus unhesitatingly avowed himself the incendiary, and the rack could force no reply from him but the cry "I did it for immortality." He was condemned to be burnt to death, and expired in the most dreadful torture, with a smile upon his countenance and the name of Lesbia upon his lips. The magistrates, lest his desire of an immortal memory should be gratified, denounced death upon all who should pronounce his name, that it might be blotted out forever. About twenty years subsequently, a citizen of Ephesus, and his friend from Athens, were walking upon the shore of the sea, a few miles from the former city. There were a number of young Ephesians exercising themselves in athletic sports upon the sands, at whom they looked for a while, and then passed on. After a few steps they stopped to examine something over which the sea was breaking near the shore. A few human bones blackened and mouldering met their gaze. "Near this spot," said the Ephesian, "we burnt Erostratus." "Who was he?" replied the Athenian, "I do not remember to have ever heard of him." The Ephesian made no reply but hurried his friend on board a small fishing boat, and put to sea. It was long before the Athenian could obtain an explanation of this singular conduct from his agitated friend. The Ephesian at length reminded him of the edict, and avowed that the forbidden name had escaped his lip, and been overheard by the youths who were near them. A vessel bound to Greece picked them up. The Ephesian settled in Attica, never daring to return to his native country. The greater portion of the incidents recorded above were communicated by him to his friend, and the tale, corroborated by others, became well known throughout Greece; but at Ephesus, no one for centuries dared to utter the forbidden name of Erostratus. [We have rather accidentally met with these two poems, The Belles of Williamsburg, and the Sequel to the Belles of Williamsburg, both written and circulated in that place in 1777. These pieces are believed to have been either composed by two different gentlemen, or to have been the joint production of both. As we cannot, however, assign to each his due share, we do not think ourselves at liberty to mention their nameswhich (although the authors in question are now no more,) are still distinguished names in Virginia.] THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. That maddens all our city; With singed pinions tumbling down, Will, tittering, view thy plight. Ye girls, to you devoted ever, Is somehow to amuse you; Advance then each illustrious maid, With beauty's ensigns gay; Myrtilla's beauties who can paint? May deck a common creature; And light up every feature. At church Myrtilla lowly kneels, No smiles her looks environ; And on her tongue the Syren. More vivid beauty-fresher bloom, She'd rule the world below. See Laura, sprightly nymph, advance, VOL. II.-60 See laughter sparkle in her eyes- Such sweetness in her look is seen, All night she gallops through our veins, Aspasia next, with kindred soul, Each gentle pleasing art; We see in gentle Delia's face, The sweet complacent mind; While hovering round her, soft desires, The god of love mistook the maid, He still remains her slave; With pensive look and head reclined, The prince of modern wits. Not far removed from her side, And rolls about her eyes; That from her quiver flies. Whence does that beam of beauty dawn? What lustre overspreads the lawn? What suns those rays dispense? At length, fatigued with beauty's blaze, SEQUEL TO THE BELLES OF WILLIAMSBURG. Or touch the trembling string And ye who bask in beauty's blaze, From fair Aurora's brow, Or those which from her crescent shine, When Cynthia with a look benign, Regards the world below Say, why, amidst the vernal throng, Whose virgin charms inspired your song With sweet poetic lore, With eager look th' enraptured swain, The picture should explore. Like hers I ween the blushing rose, On Sylvia's polished cheek that glows, To which the cherry yields its hue, Sweet as the balmy breath of spring, A title to the prize. What giddy raptures fill the brain, When tripping o'er the verdant plain, Florella joins the throng! Her look each throbbing pain beguiles, And joins the poet's song. Here even critic Spleen shall find, To aim the deadly blow. Could such perfection nought avail? To animate your lays? For might not such a nymph inspire With sportive notes the trembling lyre Attuned to virgin praise? The sister graces met the maid, Beneath the myrtle's fragrant shade, When love the season warms; Deluded by her graceful mien, They fancied her the Cyprian queen, And decked her with their charms. Say then why thus with heedless flight, BRITISH PARLIAMENT IN 1835. NO. I. THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.* The chambers in which the British Parliament are accustomed to assemble, have nothing of the theatrical aspect of the halls for political exhibition built in France for the representations of its representative government. Let us enter the chamber of the Commons. Here you see no amphitheatre for the ladies, no boxes for the Peers, nor for the corps diplomatique. A narrow gallery, only, is reserved for the reporters, and another, more spacious, is open to the public. Here are no costly marbles, no statues, no gilding. It is truly nothing but a chamber-a vast apartment, of greater length than width, without ornaments of any sort—indeed, perfectly naked. Conceive that we are looking from the public gallery. Directly before us, at the bottom, is a sort of sentrybox, surmounted by the royal arms. There, in an arm chair covered with green leather, sits the speaker, in his black robe and greyish mittens, solemnly dressed out in an immense wig, the wings of which fall to his waist. At his feet is a narrow table, at which the principal clerk is seated, supporting on his two hands a large face, smiling impurturbably under a little perruque that hangs over his head in the form of a horse-shoe. The benches on which the members sit, are ranged rectilinearly in different divisions, to the right and left, and in front of the speaker. Every one places himself in the position that is most agreeable to himself, and sits, or stands, at his pleasure. Every member wears his hat, except when addressing the speaker. Every one speaks from the place in which he finds himself at the moment. It is not to the house, however, but to the speaker that they must address themselves. The simple and country-like habits of the house are well suited to the character of representatives of the people. It proves that the Commons meet not to take part in a show, but to discharge the business of the country. At three o'clock the speaker enters the chamber, preceded by the chief of the ushers, the mace on his shoulder, and followed by a sergeant-at-arms, with a sword at his side, and dressed in black after the French fashion. Arrived at his chair, the speaker first counts the members present. If there be forty, the session is opened, and the chaplain repeats his prayers, to which every member listens, standing and uncovered, with his face towards the back of his bench. Generally the first hours are consumed in matters of minor importance. Local and private bills are discuss * Translated from a number of the Revue des Deux Mondes. ed. The benches begin to be filled between eight and nine in the evening. The house is rarely full before midnight. From this period till two in the morning, they discuss great questions, such as are likely to bring on an important vote. Such are the English. They distrust, beyond all reason, the frivolity of their own minds. They consider it always dangerous to embark in grave affairs, if their dinner has not been stored away to serve as ballast. It is indispensable that they should meditate and mature their opinions and their eloquence, while engaged in drinking their wine and grog. When simple Mr. Brougham (the period of his greatest glory) Lord Brougham never came to the House of Commons until he had emptied three bottles of Port. It was at the bottom of his glass that he found calmness, wisdom, and discretion. But since his elevation to the House of Lords, his lordship is forced to speak fasting. It is in consequence of this change that he is now always intoxicated. The sobriety of his stomach produces the intemperance of his tongue and of his brain. The invariable prolongation of its sittings late into the night, is the cause that the House of Commons never assembles on Saturday. Encroachment on the Sabbath would otherwise be an inevitable legislative sacrilege; and we must admit, that it would be with but bad grace that the Parliament alone should violate the Puritanical laws which it so rigorously maintains, and which prescribe, during the twenty-four hours of that sacred day, the most absolute and universal idle ness. Two words of personal statistics at present. The House of Commons contains four hundred and seventy-one members for England, twenty-nine for Wales, fifty-three for Scotland, and a hundred and five for Ireland-in all, six hundred and fifty-eight. On important occasions, very few fail to appear at their posts. Six hundred and twenty-two voted, at the commencement of this session, on the election of the present speaker. Mr. Abercromby, elected by the opposition, obtained a majority of but eight votes over Sir Charles Manners Sutton, the candidate of the then ministry. You observe that the chamber is divided into two parts, almost equal in size. On one side, the ministry and the reformers; on the other, the conservatives, forming the present opposition. Each of these grand divisions may perhaps be subdivided. Among the reformers or whigs, radical reformers, pure radicals, and repealers ;* among the conservatives, the old tories and the demi-conservatives. Such subdivisions, however, are useless. It is no easy thing to distinguish these different shades of opinion. Besides, they are every day becoming gradually less distinct, and will soon present but two parties. In the first place, are there any whigs? Are the whigs a party? I answer, no. There are some great noblemen, some minister-lords, whose ancestors were whigs, but they themselves are not. To continue the leaders of a true political party, they have been forced to become radicals, and to make themselves interpreters and advocates of the popular wants. What has been *The repealers are Irish members advocating the repeal of the union between Ireland and England. |