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Nothing can surpass the strange and wild effect of this scene. The procession, which had gone towards the church slowly, now returned at a quick pace; the music, which had been dolorous and complaining, was now gay and triumphant. The band was playing a martial and resounding air; the students in a wild troop, three abreast, came rushing on, whirling round and round their torches, and shaking them above their heads, like so many wild Bacchanalians, and crowds of boys and young men ran on each side, amid the mingled flare and smoke and gloom, some of them having snatched up fallen and nearly burnt-out torches, and whirling them fiercely about as they The band halted before the door of the Museum, and continued playing while the students formed themselves into a large circle in the square. The first, as he took his place, flung his blazing torch to some distance on the ground, and every one as he arrived did the same. This became the centre of the ring, round which the whole train arranged itself; and as the young men came near its bounds, they tossed up their torches into the air, which came whirling and flaming down from a hundred places into the area of the circle. The scene was most wild and strange. The gathering ring of densely standing figures, all in the Burschen costume; the lights tossing, and spinning, and falling through the air: the hundreds of them lying and blazing on the ground; while others, flying errant, dropped into the thickest masses of the spectators, and were again snatched up, and again sent aloft, and through all this the band playing in a consonant thunder and rending strain of exulting music. When the circle was complete, and all the torches had been flung down, the marschals and the police were seen walking about in it. The scattered torches were thrown together, till they formed one blazing heap, which illuminated with its red light the whole walls and windows of the square, and sent up a rolling column of pitchy smoke, that hung like a sable canopy above the crowds. At once, the band ceased playing: there was a pause of deep silence, and then the whole circle of students, as they stood round the flames, burst forth into a funeral song, which, unexpected as it was, and sudden and solemn as was the strain, startled and thrilled beyond description. The deep red light flung upon the circle; the dark groups behind; the marschals and seniors standing with drawn swords; the blazing pile in the centre, and the sound of the funeral hymn, sung by hundreds of deep and manly voices, like the sound as of the sea itself,- -was altogether so wild, so novel, and strange, that it is not to be conceived by those who have not witnessed the like, nor forgotten by those who have. The song was that sung on all such occasions, the hymn for the maintenance of their academical liberty. As it closed, one of the seniors stood forward, and wielded his sword as in defiance. The rest rushed together, and with wild cries clashing their swords above their heads, there was a shout"Quench the fire!" and the whole of the students at once dispersed. The crowds then closed round it, water was thrown on the flames, the dense black column of smoke changed into a white one, and the whole was over.

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We have now only to add that this attractive book contains many spirited and manifestly faithful illustrations, after designs by Mr. Sargent.


ART. VI.-Correspondence of John, Fourth Duke of Bedford. Selected from the Originals at Woburn Abbey. With an Introduction by Lord John Russell. Vol. I. Longman.

THE Fourth Duke of Bedford was the grandson of the Lord Russell who died upon the scaffold in the reign of Charles the Second; and his Correspondence was known to contain authentic materials for the illustration of an important period in the political history of England. He was born in 1710, and was a second son, succeeding his elder brother Wriothesley, at the age of twenty-two. On entering the House of Peers he joined the anomalous opposition which eventually drove Walpole from the helm of public affairs. The Duke, however, did not, when the change in the Ministry took place, immediately come into office; but in 1744 he was appointed First Lord of the Admiralty, which office he held till 1758, when he became Secretary of State. He afterwards served the office of Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland; and in 1763 negotiated the much-contested peace as Ambassador at Paris. He was President of the Council in Grenville's Administration; and continued to concern himself with politics to the close of his life. His connexion with public affairs, therefore, extended over the interesting term which elapsed between the fall of the administrations of Walpole and Chatham,-his Correspondence illustrating the period from 1744 to 1770.

John, Fourth Duke of Bedford, although not a man of shining parts, had great influence in the state; and this not merely in consequence of his high rank, immense wealth, and numerous boroughs, but his honesty and methodical system of conducting every kind of business. He was besides a generous friend, and a man of considerable refinement of taste as well as amiability of manners. Still, he would not have been a notable historical character on account of anything that he was, did, or caused to be done, had it not been for the unprincipled and atrocious attack which an anonymous writer made upon him towards the close of his life, and when he became the Duke of Bedford of Junius.

The present volume, a few prefatory letters excepted, contains the Correspondence during the Duke's Administration at the Admiralty. The period therefore when he became a mark for the fierce and bitter enmity of the libeller, and when among other charges, he was accused, in negotiating the peace of '63, of having pocketed the money of France, falls not within the limits of the pages before us. We e may remark in the meanwhile, however, that although in the whole range of the villainous and lying attacks of Junius, no one was made the object of a severer blow than the personage under consideration, yet the shafts fell upon none of the coward's victims, with apparently less discomposure on the part of the assailed, or with less injury to


his reputation. "Whither," said the infamous assassin of character, "shall this unhappy old man retire? Can he remain in the metropolis? If he return to Woburn, scorn and mockery await him. must create a solitude round his estate, if he would avoid the face of reproach and derision." And yet it is not less true that the aged Duke was enjoying himself according to his wonted taste at clubs, evening parties, the theatre, and so forth, apparently unruffled, than that the deadly charges of Junius turned out to be without foundation. But to confine ourselves more particularly to the contents of this first volume, we have to observe that we have not any very new lights upon either the history or the manners of the period comprised; nor can we reasonably look for important novelty of illustration until the conclusion of the correspondence. In the meantime, however, the collection is much diversified in regard to writers, and furnishes agreeable reading; touching too upon a variety of subjects. We have not merely notices of a number of public men and of political intrigues, but of private affairs and family interests. Frequent sights into the business of the Admiralty are obtained, the Duke, according to Lord John, not making it a practice to "allow his decisions to be over-ruled by the junior lords, nor his plans to be disturbed by the meddling of the Duke of Newcastle." We may here quote a curious illustration of his Grace's determination, candour, and methodical minuteness, as given in the editor's introduction :

In the year 1743, the Duke planted the large plantation in Woburn Park known by the name of the "Evergreens," to commemorate the birth of his daughter, afterwards Caroline Dutchess of Marlborough: the space was something more than a hundred acres, and was before that time a rabbitwarren, producing nothing but a few blades of grass, with the heath or ling indigenous to the soil, and without a single tree upon it.

In the course of a few years, the Duke perceived the plantation required thinning, in order to admit a free circulation of air, and give health and vigour to the young trees. He accordingly gave instructions to his gardener and directed him as to the mode and extent of the thinning required. The gardener paused, and hesitated, and at length said, "Your Grace must pardon me if I humbly remonstrate against your orders, but I cannot possibly do what you desire: it would at once destroy the young plantation, and, moreover, it would be seriously injurious to my reputation as a planter."

The Duke replied, "Do as I desire you, and I will take care of your reputation."

The plantation was consequently thinned according to his instructions, and the Duke caused a board to be fixed in the plantation, facing the road, on which was inscribed, "This plantation has been thinned by John Duke of Bedford, contrary to the advice and opinion of his gardener."

The correspondence in this first volume naturally pertains in a particular degree to the war and the negotiation for peace. But on these points we have not regarded the letters with any deep interest,

-our object chiefly having been the style of the several writers, or the slighter matters that occupied them.

The most interesting of the letters perhaps are those of Lords Anson and Sandwich, whose opinions on matters political and naval, the Duke was in the habit of consulting. There is character of a manly kind too in the epistles of Vernon. Newcastle looks even weaker than we had been accustomed to view him; and Chesterfield is still the accomplished trifler, although on one occasion at least, exhibiting a deeper humanity than he has generally got credit for. Listen to him when Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, and when disclosing a specimen of the extortionate and corrupt practices of the age:

Dublin Castle, 17th September, 1745.

My Lord,-Your Grace will remember, that some time ago I laid a complaint before the Regency, of the cruel manner in which the French prisoners at Kinsale were treated; and I have now the honour of assuring your Grace that they are not in any degree better used than they were then; which I am sure is very contrary to your Grace's intentions. Brigadier de Grangues, a man of truth and honour, is just come from thence; and has assured me of his own knowledge, that those unhappy people are more inhumanly treated than negroes in the West Indies. One Newman, who takes care of them, and who I suppose is appointed by the commissioners of sick and wounded, not only defrauds them of good part of what the Government allows them, but loads them with irons if they complain. His deputy, one Webb, is an apothecary at Kinsale, who, when his master has made them sick either by starving or bad food, crams and drenches them with his physic, and then ruins them with his bills. Though I have no power over Mr. Newman, I could not hear of his brutalities without letting him know that I knew them, and reprimanding him for them. I have accordingly had him writ to, and acquainted that I intended to lay the affair before your Grace; which, in common humanity, I thought myself obliged to do.

By the accounts we have here from Scotland, nothing is more ridiculous than that rascally Highland army, with which his Royal Highness Prince Charles intends to conquer us, except it be our army that runs away from such a pack of scoundrels. But if they have no foreign assistance, which your Grace will take good care to prevent or intercept, there must be soon an end of them one way or another. I wish other things now depending may end as well, as I am persuaded this rebellion will. I need not, I believe, assure your Grace, that no man living can be with greater truth and respect than I am, &c.


But by far the best correspondent of the present number as regards literary elegance and graceful thought is Legge. Here is a specimen :

Temple, 29th June, 1742. My dear Lord,-Whilst the fate of my old patron (Walpole) was depending, I avoided any application to your Grace for protection, and did so, that

I might the more effectually preserve your Grace's good opinion of me; well knowing that I should advance my pretensions very little with any man of sense and honour by appearing more solicitous for myself than for the person to whom I owed the highest obligations. As that debt of gratitude is now punctually paid, the cause of my reserve consequently ceases; nor can I see all men around me intent upon self-preservation, and be so insensible of my own danger as to think of no refuge, or so forgetful of your kind disposition towards me as to think of any other than your Grace's friendship: permit me, therefore, without any further preface, to acquaint you with the present state of my affairs. The only danger I apprehend is from Mr. Pulteney; and, after many rumours, to which, as mere town-talk, I gave little attention, I am now convinced he has a design of putting Mr. Furnese into my place. If this happens, not only my whole income is taken away, but that which was my study and profession, and by which I hoped, one day or other, to have been serviceable to the public as well as myself, is converted into a sinecure, and added to the superfluities of one who is already possessed of a large estate. How far any personal application to Mr. Pulteney upon this occasion may be decent for me to ask, or agreeable to your Grace's situation and inclination to grant, I am very doubtful; but this I would venture to affirm, that if it were conveyed to Mr. Pulteney through some channel of undoubted authority, that I have the honour to be an old (pardon the vanity if I say) an intimate acquaintance of your Grace, in the support and preservation of whose fortune you have the goodness to interest yourself warmly, a description so much to my advantage would, I dare say, put me beyond the reach of all danger. I have received too many marks of favour from your Grace to doubt your willingness to assist me ; and therefore ought to leave the time, as well as manner, to your better judgment; but as this is the crisis of my fortune, upon which the whole success of my future life depends, pardon my warmth when I add, that there is no time to be lost, and that nothing but your speedy patronage can effectually preserve,

My Lord, your Grace's most obedient and faithful servant,


Our readers may wish to learn how the affair concluded, regarding which Mr. Legge thus manfully expresses himself. We therefore quote another of his epistles to the Duke :

King's Bench Walk, 13th July, 1742. My dear Lord, I thank your Grace for the sight you have given me of Mr. P.'s letter, which I return enclosed to you; and as the situation of affairs is described in it, am not surprised that even your intercession was ineffectual towards maintaining me in the Treasury, though I dare say I felt the good effects of it in the manner of turning me out; for this morning, at the same time that Mr. Furnese kissed hands for my place, I likewise kissed for being Surveyor of the Woods, &c. To be sure, it is a fall; but as they have laid the boughs of trees under me to break it, I am not near so much bruised as if I had been tossed out on the bare pavement.

I send you a list of the executions which were performed this morning: it is as authentic as any you will see in the papers, and will come at least as

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