GERMAN-AMERICAN ROMANCES.

"Je vous conjure, faites que le prince fasse mener, au commencement, une vie retirée à la Princesse. Elle a toujours été très genée et très observée, et il le falloit ainsi. Si elle se trouve tout à coup dans le monde sans restriction aucune, elle ne marchera pas à pas égaux. Elle n'a pas le cœur depravé—elle n'a jamais rien fait de mauvais, mais la parole en elle devance toujours la pensée; elle se livre à ceux a qui elle parle sans reserve, et de là il s'ensuit (même dans cette petite cour) qu'on lui prête des sens et des intentions que ne lui ont jamais appartenus. Que ne sera-t-il pas en Angleterre—où elle sera entourée de femmes adroites et intriguantes,auxquelles elle se livrera á corps perdu, (si le Prince permet qu'elle mène la vie dissipée de Londres,) et qui placeront dans sa bouche tels propos qu'elles voudront, puisqu'elle parlera elle-même sans savoir ce qu'elle dit.De plus, elle a beaucoup de vanité, et quoique pas sans esprit, avec peu de fond—la tête lui tournera si on la caresse et la flatte trop, si le Prince la gâte; et il est tout aussi essentiel qu'elle le craigne que qu'elle l'aime. Il faut absolument qu'il la tienneserrée, qu'il se fasse respecter, sans quoi,elle s'égarera. Je sais que vous ne me comprometterez pas—je vous parle comme à mon vieux ami. Je suis attachée cœur et âme au Duc. Je me suis dévouée a lui,je me suis perdue pour lui. C'est le bien de sa famille que je veux. Il sera le plus malheureux des hommes si cette fille ne reussit pas mieux que son aînée. Je vous repète, elle n'a jamais rien fait de mauvais, mais elle est sans jugement, et on l'a jugée à l'avenant.Je crains la Reine. La Duchesse ici, qui passe sa vie à penser tout haut, ou à ne jamais penser de tout, n'aime pas la Reine, et elle en a trop parlé à sa fille.Cependant, son bonheur depend d'être bien avec elle, et, pour Dieu, repetez lui toujours cette maxime, que vous avez déjà plus d'une fois recommandée."

The education of the Princess had been most lamentably neglected.

"Letter from the Prince—well satisfied, and approves of what I have done—positively refuses to let Mademoiselle Rosenzweit come over. She was to be a sort ofreader. King writes on the subject to the Duchess; both she and the Duke press it. I insist upon it, and it is settled that she is not to accompany the Princess. Duke takes me aside, and says that the only reason why he wished her to be with the Princess was,that his daughter writes very ill, and spells ill, and he was desirous that this should not appear. Affected to be indifferent about this refusal, but at bottom hurt and angry. Suspects the Queen, whom he and the duchess hate."

Perhaps no ambassador, ever sent upon such a mission, was placed in more embarrassing circumstances than Lord Malmesbury. He was entreated on all sides to undertake a kind of tutelage of the Princess; to prepare her mind for the future lifeshe must lead; to warn her of her faults, and school her as to the behaviour which became a Princess of Wales. It was quite plain that even her own relatives, and those who regarded her most partially, had little expectation that the marriage would prove auspicious or happy; and that their doubts arose, not from any rumours of the bridegroom's instability, but from their knowledge of the character of the bride. To act the part of Mentor, under such circumstances, required much delicacy and tact, both of which qualities Lord Malmesbury possessed in an eminent degree. More, however, was requisite in order to make them effectual. It was impossible, in a hurried and limited period, to repair the fatal effects of years of indolence and neglect. Lord Malmesbury could merely warn, but the task of improvement was hopeless. What he did, however, was well done. From his courteous manners, and kindly tone of conversation, he speedily became a great favourite with the Princess, and sometimes—as we have already seen—used his personal influence with success. Yet this familiar intercourse, while it certainly heightened his estimation of her good qualities, impressed Lord Malmesbury with the thorough conviction that the Princess was in no way qualified to maintain her future rank. She made him her confidant in certain passages of her history, which it would have been far wiser to have concealed:—"Dinner and concert at court; Princess out of humour; very nonsensical confidence about Prince of Orange; cannot be committed to writing; must recollect it, as well as my answer and advice." And again—"After dinner, long and serious conversation with the Princess on her manner of calling women by their plain name; of saying 'ma chère,' 'mon cœur,' &c.; and oftutoyingwhen talking to them in German; she takes it right; prepare her for a still more serious conversation on the subject of hereditary Prince of Orange."

We must state, in justice to the Princess, that all the lectures of Lord Malmesbury—and they were neither few nor trifling—were taken by her in extreme good part. Indeed, his lordship appears at one time to have been apprehensive that he was gaining too much influence over his future mistress, and that caution was necessary on his side.

"The Princess Caroline asked me, with an apology, as forune question indiscrette, whether I was to beher Lord Chamberlain? On my saying I knew nothing of it, she was very gracious, and expressed a strong wish it should be; and added, that she feared it would not be good enough for me, and that I would decline it. I told her any situation which placed me near her would be flattering to me, but that these situations were sought for by many persons who had better claims than myself; and that, besides, I never solicited any thing, and could not expect that such an office would be offered to me without my asking for it. She again (and apparently in earnest) expressed her wish that it should be, and said it would be of infinite use to her to have a person near her she was used to, and whom she had confidence in."

On another occasion, when the Princess renewed her desire, Lord Malmesbury is more significant—

"She again urges me to accept a place about her court at my return. I avoid an explicit answer, but earnestly entreat her not to solicit any thing on my behalf;I had the Duke of Suffolk and Queen Margaret in my thoughts!"

When Lord Malmesbury's years and grave functions are considered, the touch of vanity, which in this latter paragraph peers through his diplomatic caution, is somewhat amusing.

An anonymous letter, which arrived from England, led to the following conversations:—"At dinner I found the Duchess and Princess alarmed, agitated, and uneasy at an anonymous letter from England, abusing the Prince, and warning them, in the most exaggerated terms, against Lady ----, who is represented as the worst and most dangerous of profligate women. The Duchess, with her usual indiscretion, had shown this letter to the Princess, and mentioned it to every body. I was quite angry with her, and could not avoid expressing my concern, first, at payinganyattention to an anonymous letter, and secondly, at being so very imprudent as to bruit forth its contents. The Duke, on being acquainted with it, thought as Idid, but was more uneasy than he ought. Mademoiselle Hertzfeldt again talks to me as before about the Princess Caroline. "Il faut la gouverner par la peur,par la terreur même. Elle s'émancipera si on n'y prend pas garde—mais si on la veille soigneusement et sevèrement, elle se conduira bien." The King of England, in a letter to the Duchess, says—"Qu'il espère que sa nièce n'aura pas trop de vivacité, et qu'elle menera une vie sédentaire et retirée." These words shock Princess Caroline, to whom the Duchess very foolishly reads the letter.

"Princess Caroline shows me the anonymous letter about Lady ——, evidently written by some disappointed milliner or angry servant-maid, and deserving no attention: I am surprised the Duke afforded it any. Aimed at Lady ——; its object to frighten the Princess with the idea that she would lead her into an affair of gallantry, and be ready to be convenient on such an occasion. This didnotfrighten the Princess, although it did the Duke and Duchess; and on my perceiving this, I told her Lady —— would be more cautious than to risk such an audacious measure; and that, besides, it wasdeathto presume to approach a Princess of Wales, and no man would be daring enough to think of it.She asked me whether I was in earnest.I said such was our law; that any body who presumed toloveher, was guilty ofhightreason, and punished withdeath, if she was weak enough to listen to him; so also wouldshe.This startled her."

The following is Lord Malmesbury's own summary of her character, sketched at a favourable moment:—

"If her education had beenwhat it ought, she might have turned out excellent; but it was that very nonsensical one that most women receive—one of privation, injunction, and menace; to believe no man, and never to express what they feel, or say what they think,for allmen are inclined to entrap them, and all feelings are improper; this vitiates orabrutisall women—few escape." (Surely this censure is too sweeping.) "On summing up Princess Caroline's character to-day, it came out to my mind to be, that she has quick parts, without a sound or distinguishing understanding; that she has a ready conception, but no judgment; caught by the first impression; led by the first impulse; hurried away by appearances orenjouement; loving to talk, and prone to make missish friendships that last twenty-four hours. Some natural, but no acquired morality, and no strong innate notions of its value and necessity; warm feelings, and nothing to counteract them; great good humour, and much good nature—no appearance of caprice—rather quick andvive, but not a grain of rancour. From her habits, from the life she was allowed and even compelled to live, forced to dissemble; fond of gossiping, and this strengthened greatly by the example of her good mother, who is all curiosity and inquisitiveness, and who has no notion of not gratifying this desire at any price. In short, the Princess, in the hands of a steady and sensible man, would probably turn out well, but when it is likely she will meet with faults perfectly analogous to her own,she will fail. She has no governing powers, though her mind isphysicallystrong. She has her father's courage, but it is to her (as to him) of no avail.Hewants mental decision:she, character and tact."

This mission of Lord Malmesbury extended over a period of nearly five months. An abortive attempt was made to conduct the Princess to England by the way of Holland; but the inroads of the French into that country rendered the expedition highly dangerous. In fact, by this time the fate of Holland was sealed. One of the severest winters ever known had opened a natural and universal bridge to the invaders over the most effective barriers of the country. All was flight, terror, and confusion. The envoy returned with his royal charge to Hanover, there to await intelligence of the arrival of the British fleet at Stade, as the passage by the Elbe alone seemed practicable. During this anxious period, Lord Malmesbury received several letters from the Prince of Wales, which are given in his correspondence. These are well worthy of attention. Although a strict grammarian might find fault with their construction, there is no appearance of any thing like indifference on the part of the Prince. On the contrary, he seems to have awaited with extreme anxiety the arrival of his consort, and to have been much vexed and annoyed by thedelay which intervened. The following is an extract from his first letter, dated 23d November 1794, and written shortly after Lord Malmesbury's arrival at Brunswick:—

"I have desired Captain Hislop to give you an ample and thorough account of the steps I have taken towards the expediting every thing on this side of the water, as well as with my brother the Duke of York, to whom I have written also by Hislop; and as to what is now necessary to forward the completing every thing at Brunswick, I must leave that to you, hoping that you will make every exertion possible to put the Princess in possession of her own home as near the 20th of the ensuing month as possible; for every thing that can create delay at the present moment is bad on every account, but particularly to the public, whose expectations have now been raised for some months, and would be quite outrageous were it possible for them to perceive any impediment arising to what they have had their attention drawn to for so long a time; besides the suspense, and the naturally unpleasant feelings attendant upon suspense, which I myself must be subject to, and the very honourable, fair, and handsome manner in which the Duke and Duchess have both conducted themselves to me in this transaction; their having also, in their last letters, both to the King and me, said that the Princess was ready to set off instantly. In short, all these reasons make it necessary for me, my dear lord, to desire you to press your departure from Brunswick at as short a date as possible from the receipt of this letter."

In another communication of a later date, (21st February 1795,) the Prince thus expressed himself:—

The accounts you are so good as to give me of the temper and resignation with which the Princess is so good as to bear with the interruptions in her journey, is more than I fancy any one would venture to say of me from hence, as, I assure you, all the mismanagements, procrastinations, and difficulties that I have met with in the conduct of that business on this side of the water, have totally put patience (a virtue, you well know, that our family in general are not much endowed with) out of the question."I hope you will make this plan," (that of the embarkation and landing,) "acceptable to the Princess as well as the Duchess, as you must be well acquainted with my impatience; and I beg you will assure them both, that there is no sort of respect, state, and attention that shall not be shown to the Princess the moment she sets her foot on our dear little island. I am convinced you will heartily concur with me in my anxious endeavours, through this, or even any other means, to bring your voyage to as expeditious and happy a termination as possible. I write to the Duchess of Brunswick by the same courier, which letters you will have the goodness to deliver into her hands yourself. I cannot help once more reiterating my thanks to you, my dear lord, for your judgment and caution through all these late occurrences."

"I hope you will make this plan," (that of the embarkation and landing,) "acceptable to the Princess as well as the Duchess, as you must be well acquainted with my impatience; and I beg you will assure them both, that there is no sort of respect, state, and attention that shall not be shown to the Princess the moment she sets her foot on our dear little island. I am convinced you will heartily concur with me in my anxious endeavours, through this, or even any other means, to bring your voyage to as expeditious and happy a termination as possible. I write to the Duchess of Brunswick by the same courier, which letters you will have the goodness to deliver into her hands yourself. I cannot help once more reiterating my thanks to you, my dear lord, for your judgment and caution through all these late occurrences."

On the 28th of March the embarkation was effected, and, after a prosperous but foggy passage, the royal squadron entered the Thames. It was destined, however, by management or mismanagement—for we know not which to call it—that the jealousy of the Princess should be awakened from the very first hour she landed in Great Britain. The lady, regarding whom the anonymous letter above referred to was written, and whoseliaisonwith the Prince of Wales was the subject of public scandal, had been selected as one of the Ladies of Honour to meet the Princess on her arrival. This was neither more nor less than a premeditated insult, and Caroline must have felt it as such. We can exempt no one from the censure attachable to such a proceeding. Even if it can be supposed that the general rumour was unjust with regard to the nature of that connexion, its mere publicity should have prevented the Prince from subjecting his bride to such society, at least at so early a period. But we apprehend that no such palliative can be urged. Under these circumstances, it was the clear duty of the King to have interfered, and, in his double capacity of uncle and father-in-law, to have prevented this affront from being offered to the unprotected Princess. Altogether, it was a scandalous arrangement, and Lord Malmesbury felt it as such. The following extract speaks volumes as to the feelings entertained by the haughty favourite towards the wife:—

"Sunday, April 5.—At eight the Princess got into the royal yacht (Augusta)—pleasant and prosperous sail to Greenwich, where we arrive at twelve o'clock. The King's coaches not yet arrived, owing, as I have since heard, to Lady —— not being ready. She, Mrs Aston, and Lord Claremont, came to meet the Princess. We waited at least an hour for the carriages, and were very attentively, but awkwardly, received by Sir W. Pattison, governor of the hospital, and his two sisters. Lady —— very much dissatisfied with the Princess's mode of dress, though Mrs Harcourt had taken great pains about it, and expressed herself in a way which induced me to speak rather sharply to her. She also said,she could not sit backwardsin a coach, and hoped she might be allowed to sitforwards. This, (though Mrs Harcourt was servile enough to admit as a reason,) as it was strictly forbidden by the King,"—[itdoesseem, therefore, that some such difficulty had been apprehended, and the probable conduct of Lady —— discussed!]—"I most decidedly opposed, and told Lady ——, that, as she must have known that riding backward in a coach disagreed with her, she ought never to have accepted the situation of a lady of the bedchamber, who never ought to sit forward, and that, if she really was likely to be sick, I would put Mrs Aston into the coach with the Princess, and have, by that means, the pleasure of Lady ——'s company in the carriage allotted to me and Lord Claremont.This of course settled the business; she and Mrs Harcourt sat backward, and the Princess sat by herself forward. There was very little crowd, and still less applause, on the road to London, where we arrived, and were set down at St James's (the Duke of Cumberland's apartments, Cleveland Row) about half-past two."

The long-expected, and probably dreaded interview was now to take place. We may search the whole annals of marriage in vain for such another.

"Immediately notified the arrival to the King and Prince of Wales; the last came immediately. I, according to the established etiquette, introduced (no one else being in the room) the Princess Caroline to him. She very properly, in consequence of my saying to her that it was the right mode of proceeding, attempted to kneel to him. He raised her, (gracefully enough,) and embraced her, said barely one word, turned round, retired to a distant part of the apartment, and, calling me to him, said—'Harris, I am not well;pray, get me a glass of brandy!'"I said, 'Sir, had you not better have a glass of water?' upon which he, much out of humour, said with an oath—"'No; I will go directly to the Queen,' and away he went."The Princess, left during this short moment alone, was in a state of astonishment; and, on my joining her, said—'Mon Dieu! est-ce que le Prince est toujours comme cela? Je le trouve très gros et nullement aussi beau que son portrait.'"I said his Royal Highness was naturally a good deal affected and flurried at this first interview, but she certainly would find him different at dinner. She was disposed to further criticisms on this occasion, which would have embarrassed me very much to answer, if luckily the King had not ordered me to attend him."

"I said, 'Sir, had you not better have a glass of water?' upon which he, much out of humour, said with an oath—

"'No; I will go directly to the Queen,' and away he went.

"The Princess, left during this short moment alone, was in a state of astonishment; and, on my joining her, said—'Mon Dieu! est-ce que le Prince est toujours comme cela? Je le trouve très gros et nullement aussi beau que son portrait.'

"I said his Royal Highness was naturally a good deal affected and flurried at this first interview, but she certainly would find him different at dinner. She was disposed to further criticisms on this occasion, which would have embarrassed me very much to answer, if luckily the King had not ordered me to attend him."

Little comment is required upon such a scene. In charity, we shall suppose that the Prince at the first glance was grievously disappointed with the personal appearance of his bride—that he had formed some exaggerated estimate of her charms, and that the reaction was so strong as to create instantaneous antipathy. A more favourable hypothesis we cannot form; any other must resolve itself into preconcerted insult. Still, this is no justification for conduct which was at once mean and unmanly. There she stood—the daughter of a sovereign prince—his own near kinswoman, whose hand he had voluntarily solicited—young, and not devoid of some personal beauty. Other defects he had not time to observe, and surely, on such an occasion as this, they were not conspicuously prominent. Could any man, with a spark of chivalrous feeling within him, have permitted himself to manifest such tokens of disgust in the presence of a woman, who was to all intents and purposes his wife, and whom he then for the first time beheld? Some there were, wearing before him the princely plume of Wales, who would rather have forfeited that honour than offered insult to a female and a stranger—but the spirit of the Henrys and the Edwards was not there. An interview of a minute's duration—brandy—and an oath! Rare prospects forthe felicity and continuance of the future Hymen!—Let us follow Lord Malmesbury through the subsequent scenes.

"The drawing-room was just over. His Majesty's conversation turned wholly on Prussian and French politics, and the only question about the Princess was—'Is she good-humoured?'"I said, and very truly, 'That in very trying moments I had never seen her otherwise.'"The King said, 'I am glad of it;' and it was manifest, from his silence, he had seen the Queensinceshe had seen the Prince, and that the Prince had made a very unfavourable report of the Princess to her. At dinner, at which all those who attended the Princess from Greenwich assisted, and the honours of which were done by Lord Stopford as Vice-Chamberlain, I was far from satisfied with the Princess's behaviour. It was flippant, rattling, affecting raillery and wit, and throwing out coarse, vulgar hints about Lady ——, who was present, and, though mute,le diable n'en perdait rien. The Prince was evidently disgusted, and this unfortunate dinner fixed his dislike, which, when left to herself, the Princess had not the talent to remove; but, by still observing the same giddy manners and attempts at cleverness and coarse sarcasm, increased it till it became positive hatred."From this time, though I dined frequently during the first three weeks at Carlton House, nothing material occurred; but the sum of what I saw there led me to draw the inferences I have just expressed. After one of those dinners, where the Prince of Orange was present, and at which the Princess had behaved very lightly and even improperly, the Prince took me into his closet, and asked me how I liked this sort of manners. I could not conceal my disapprobation of them, and took this opportunity of repeating to him the substance of what the Duke of Brunswick had so often said to me, that it was expedientde la tenir serrée, that she had been brought up very strictly, and if she was not strictly kept, would, from high spirits and little thought, certainly emancipate too much. To this the Prince said—'I see it but too plainly; but why, Harris, did you not tell me so before, or write it to me from Brunswick?'"I replied that I did not consider what the Duke (a severe father himself towards his children) said, of sufficient consequence; that it affected neither the Princess's moral character nor conduct, and was intended solely as a communication which I conceived it only proper to notice to his Royal Highness at a proper occasion, at such a one as now had offered; and that I humbly hoped his Royal Highness would not consider it as casting anyrealslur or aspersion on the Princess; that as to not writing to his Royal Highness from Brunswick, I begged him to recollect I was not sent on adiscretionarycommission, but withthe most positive commandsto ask the Princess Caroline in marriage, and nothing more; that to this sole point, respecting the marriage and no other, these commands went; any reflections or remarks that I had presumed to make, would (whether in praise of, or injurious to her Royal Highness) have been a direct and positive deviation from those his Majesty's commands. They were aslimitedas they wereimperative. That still, had I discovered notorious or glaring defects, or such as were of a nature to render the union unseemly, I should have felt it as a bounden duty to have stated them, but it must have beendirectly to the King, and to no one else. To this the Prince appeared to acquiesce; but I saw it did not please, and left a rankle in his mind."

"The drawing-room was just over. His Majesty's conversation turned wholly on Prussian and French politics, and the only question about the Princess was—'Is she good-humoured?'

"I said, and very truly, 'That in very trying moments I had never seen her otherwise.'

"The King said, 'I am glad of it;' and it was manifest, from his silence, he had seen the Queensinceshe had seen the Prince, and that the Prince had made a very unfavourable report of the Princess to her. At dinner, at which all those who attended the Princess from Greenwich assisted, and the honours of which were done by Lord Stopford as Vice-Chamberlain, I was far from satisfied with the Princess's behaviour. It was flippant, rattling, affecting raillery and wit, and throwing out coarse, vulgar hints about Lady ——, who was present, and, though mute,le diable n'en perdait rien. The Prince was evidently disgusted, and this unfortunate dinner fixed his dislike, which, when left to herself, the Princess had not the talent to remove; but, by still observing the same giddy manners and attempts at cleverness and coarse sarcasm, increased it till it became positive hatred.

"From this time, though I dined frequently during the first three weeks at Carlton House, nothing material occurred; but the sum of what I saw there led me to draw the inferences I have just expressed. After one of those dinners, where the Prince of Orange was present, and at which the Princess had behaved very lightly and even improperly, the Prince took me into his closet, and asked me how I liked this sort of manners. I could not conceal my disapprobation of them, and took this opportunity of repeating to him the substance of what the Duke of Brunswick had so often said to me, that it was expedientde la tenir serrée, that she had been brought up very strictly, and if she was not strictly kept, would, from high spirits and little thought, certainly emancipate too much. To this the Prince said—'I see it but too plainly; but why, Harris, did you not tell me so before, or write it to me from Brunswick?'

"I replied that I did not consider what the Duke (a severe father himself towards his children) said, of sufficient consequence; that it affected neither the Princess's moral character nor conduct, and was intended solely as a communication which I conceived it only proper to notice to his Royal Highness at a proper occasion, at such a one as now had offered; and that I humbly hoped his Royal Highness would not consider it as casting anyrealslur or aspersion on the Princess; that as to not writing to his Royal Highness from Brunswick, I begged him to recollect I was not sent on adiscretionarycommission, but withthe most positive commandsto ask the Princess Caroline in marriage, and nothing more; that to this sole point, respecting the marriage and no other, these commands went; any reflections or remarks that I had presumed to make, would (whether in praise of, or injurious to her Royal Highness) have been a direct and positive deviation from those his Majesty's commands. They were aslimitedas they wereimperative. That still, had I discovered notorious or glaring defects, or such as were of a nature to render the union unseemly, I should have felt it as a bounden duty to have stated them, but it must have beendirectly to the King, and to no one else. To this the Prince appeared to acquiesce; but I saw it did not please, and left a rankle in his mind."

We have heard some blame attributed to Lord Malmesbury, in certain quarters, for not having communicated to the Prince his own impressions of the bride. We are inclined to think this censure undeserved, and to look upon his own defence, stated above, as perfectly satisfactory. Even if he had considered it his duty to make any such representation—which it was not—he must have done it at great personal peril. The whole odium—if the marriage had been broken off—would have been attributed to him. Had it gone forward, the coldness of the Prince would inevitably have been set down as the effect of his interference. If he had been trusted with a discretionary commission, much more would have been left in his power; but the marriage was, in point of fact, quite concluded when he received orders to repair to Brunswick. With regard to the Princess, he acted throughout as a sincere and judicious friend in warning and in counselling her. He drew no glittering or extravagant pictures to lead her imagination astray. He prepared her to findthe Court of London rather a place of ordeal, beset with many snares and difficulties, than the site of luxury, ease, and indulgence. He did his best to tutor her on the delicate topics of deportment, manners, and conversation; and if he failed, it was only because his counsel was required too late. It is said that the Prince never forgave Lord Malmesbury for his share in this negotiation. If the fact be so, the Prince was both unjust and ungenerous; for it is questionable if there was one, among the other servants of the Crown, who could have discharged so arduous a duty with half the discretion of this accomplished and wise diplomatist. It should be remembered too, by those who have adopted a different view, that Lord Malmesbury had little opportunity,at the first, to investigate the character and habits of the Princess. He was in daily expectation of his recall, and his time, as his diary shows, was greatly occupied with the stirring public events of Europe. Except himself, there was no experienced English statesman on the Continent qualified to give advice at a period when communication with home was hopeless. He therefore became, as it were, the adviser-general to our ambassadors, our army, and the friendly states of Holland and of Austria. He was the only man capable of unravelling and detecting the tortuous policy of Prussia, and almost every moment of his time was engrossed by these stupendous labours. It was only upon the journey home—broken and protracted as it was—that he had the full opportunity of ascertaining, by the use of his own faculties, the faults and imperfections of the Princess, and surely it was then by far too late to interfere.

Lord Malmesbury was present at the nuptials. There was little gaiety on the occasion—none certainly in the heart of one—if not both—of the principal actors in the scene.

"I should have said that the marriage ceremony took place late on the evening of Wednesday, the 8th April, at St James's Chapel-Royal. The ceremony was performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, (Moore.) The usual etiquette observed—we had assembled in the Queen's apartment; from thence to the usual drawing-rooms, (very dark.) The procession, preceded by the heralds and great officers of the court, (amongst whom I was ordered to attend,) walked to the Chapel—very crowded. Prince of Wales gave his hat, with a rich diamond button and loop, to Lord Harcourt to hold, and made him a present of it. After the marriage, we returned to the Queen's apartment. The King told me to wear the Windsor uniform, and have theentrées. The Prince very civil and gracious; but I thought I could perceive he was not quite sincere,and certainly unhappy; and as a proof of it, he had manifestly had recourse to wine or spirits." Lord Malmesbury remarks in conclusion—"It is impossible to conceive or foresee any comfort from this connexion, in which I lament very much having taken any share, purely passive as it was."

Such is the secret history of the commencement of this ill-starred union, which was destined at a future, and even more perilous period, to form one of the most dangerous points of discord between the crown and people of these realms. At the lapse of half a century, the appearance of these documents is valuable, for they throw light upon many passages which otherwise could only have been dimly conjectured. Since then, society in the higher circles has undergone considerable reformation. More amalgamation and friendly intercourse is yearly taking place among the different courts of Europe; and we hail those reunions with joy, as the best securities not only of the private happiness of those whose welfare must always be important to their people, but of the general peace and federal prosperity of the world.

The topics upon which we have dwelt in this article, are so interesting, that we have occupied our space without exhausting one half of these valuable volumes. They contain, besides, Lord Malmesbury's negotiations with the French Directory at Paris in 1796, and at Lille in 1797, with much of the private history of Mr Pitt during the period of the Addington Administration. We may perhaps, on a future occasion, recur to these; at present we shall conclude by heartily recommending this work to the perusal of every one who desires to become thoroughly acquainted with the diplomatic relations of the times.

The two great colonizing nations of Europe, England and Spain, have displayed a striking difference in their mode of treating the countries which discovery or conquest has at various periods placed under their rule. The constant aim of England has been to civilize the aborigines, and elevate their moral character; to teach them the arts of life, and to attach them to their rulers by the impartial administration of justice. The prosperous state of British India, and the ease with which that vast empire is governed and controlled by an insignificant number of Europeans, prove the wisdom of the liberal and humane policy applied by Great Britain to her Indian subjects.

The colonial system uniformly pursued by Spain has been widely and fatally different. The establishment of her transatlantic colonies was accomplished by the indiscriminate slaughter and plunder of the unoffending natives. Disguise it as he may, cruelty is a distinguishing characteristic of the Spaniard; and this moral phenomenon in the character of a people, certainly not destitute of noble and chivalrous attributes, may probably be traced, partly to the large admixture of Arabian blood in the Spanish population, and partly to the long enduring and paramount authority of a priesthood remarkable for its intolerant spirit, and for its savage abuse of unlimited power. This propensity to deeds of cruelty and oppression was nourished during the long contest with the Moors. Abundant evidence of it may also be found in Spain's European wars, and especially during the long and noble struggle of the brave Netherlanders against the reckless and blood-thirsty soldiery of the Duke of Alva. But the crowning atrocities of Spain were perpetrated in her American possessions, and more particularly in Mexico, the richest and most important of them all.

Assuming that the whole of Spanish America was a gift to the king of Spain from God's vicegerent on earth, the Roman pontiff, and under the plea that it was their especial duty to establish his creed, the Spaniards did not hesitate to accomplish this end by the most lawless and cruel means. Their unbounded greed of gold led to further oppressions on their part, and sufferings on that of the Indians; and even the arbitrary, and for the most part unjust, enactments of the Consejo de las Indias, a council established for the government of Spain's colonial possessions, were outheroded and overstepped by the cruel and mercenary individuals to whom their enforcement was entrusted.

Fearing the eventual day of retribution, every cunning device was practised to keep down the numbers of the unfortunate natives, and to retard the growth of their intelligence. By a royal decree, not a town or village could be founded, nor even a farm-house built, except in the vicinity of a garrison, convent, or mission. The Spaniards wanted dollars, not men, and could they have worked the rich mines of Guanaxato, Monte Real, and elsewhere, with bullocks instead of Indians, would gladly have seen the whole native population of Mexico exterminated. But when the storm, which for a time had been averted, at length burst forth, they gave a loose to their hatred of the unfortunate Mexicans. The rebellion, premature in its outbreak, and crushed in its first great effort, was carried on under various leaders, and with varying success, until it terminated in the final downfall of the Spanish rule. The massacres and cruelties perpetrated during the eleven intervening years, were beyond conception horrible; far exceeding in extent and atrocity any thing recorded in European history. The fearful night of St Bartholomew, the tortures of the Inquisition, the persecutions in theCevennes, and later, the horrors of the French Revolution, sink into insignificance, when compared with such wholesale massacres as those of Guanaxato and Guadalajara, and with the sweeping destruction wrought by the Spaniards throughout Mexico.

"Such and such towns and villages have disappeared from the face of the earth," was no uncommon phrase in the reports and despatches of the Spanish commanders—a phrase fully borne out by facts. Prisoners, of both sexes and all ages, were murdered in cold blood, whole districts laid waste with fire and sword, until not a human being or habitation was to be seen, where previously a flourishing and numerous population existed. In a despatch of the royalist general Morillo, dated Bagota, June 1816, he stated that, in order to cut at the root of the rebellion, he had declared all persons rebels who knew how to read and write, and that such were, on detection, immediately to be put to death. Accordingly, six hundred of the most notable persons in Bagota, both men and women, guiltless of all other crimes but education, were strangled, and their bodies suspended naked from gibbets. Nothing but the weariness of the executioner and his aids, put an end to this horrid butchery.

We cannot better illustrate the state of things above referred to, than by laying before the reader some farther extracts fromThe Viceroy and the Aristocracy. For this purpose we will select the early portion of the second volume, previously connecting it by some brief details with the two chapters given in our last Number.

The five-and-twenty young noblemen who witnessed the treasonable dramatic performance described in the second chapter of the book before us, are sentenced, as a punishment for their offence, to serve in the army under Calleja, the captain-general of Mexico. This is announced to their parents, who are all Creoles of the highest rank, at a drawing-room held by the viceroy Vanegas, where we are introduced to a certain Count San Jago, who, as well on account of his wealth and influence, as by his high qualities and superior intelligence, ranks first amongst the Mexican nobility, and enjoys great consideration at the viceregal court. His nephew, Don Manuel, and his adopted son, the Conde Carlos, were among the spectators of the pasquinade in which King Ferdinand's private pastimes had been so cuttingly caricatured, and they are included in the sentence passed on all those who have thus offended. This sentence excites great indignation amongst the Mexican nobility, who see in it a gross violation of theirfuerosor privileges. There is no option, however, but obedience. The Count San Jago, who ardently desires the freedom of his country, and even maintains a secret understanding with some of the rebel chiefs, rejoices in the punishment awarded, deeming that the introduction of these young men into the army may pave the way to Creole ascendancy. The immediate expulsion of the Spaniards from Mexico is not desired by him, or by the majority of the Creoles, as it would throw the chief power into the hands of the Indians and castes, who are totally unfitted to wield it. The count procures a captain's commission for Carlos, and would willingly do the same for his nephew; but Don Manuel, although a Creole by birth, is a Spaniard in heart, despises his own countrymen, and resolves to proceed to Spain and take part in the struggle against the French. An attachment has existed between him and the Countess Elvira, sister of Carlos; but this has recently been succeeded, on the side of Manuel, by a violent passion he has conceived for the viceroy's sister-in-law, Donna Isabella, a haughty beauty, who only encourages the young Creole so far as it accords with the views of Vanegas, some of whose designs would be promoted by the absence from Mexico of the Count San Jago's nephew and heir. Blinded by his passion, Manuel obeys the impulse artfully given to him by Donna Isabella, resists the remonstrances of his uncle and the tears of Elvira, and insists upon proceeding to Spain, which his imagination paints as the fountain-head of chivalry and heroism. Count San Jago sees through his motives, but does not choose to constrain hisinclination; and Manuel sets out, with a train of attendants befitting his rank, for the sea-coast, where he is to embark for the mother country. His adventures upon the road form a striking episode, to a certain extent independent of the rest of the book, and with which we will continue our extracts.

About a day's journey from the capital, rises that mighty chain of mountains called the Sierra Madre, which, after connecting the volcanoes of Mexico with those of Puebla, takes an inland and northerly direction, hiding within its bowels, near Monte Real and Guanaxato, that boundless mineral wealth which excites so strongly the wonder of the naturalist. The most important mountains of Mexico are portions of this chain, which gives to that country a character so original, so wildly picturesque and truly sublime, yet so cheerful and smiling, that the eye of the beholder ranges with alternate rapture and surprise from point to point of the immense landscape, vainly endeavouring to comprehend in one frame the wonderfully-contrasted materials of the picture before him.

The flanks of these mountain ridges are thickly clothed with lofty oak and pine, while the dwarf oak and the mimosa cover the shoulders; and their rocky summits, bare of all vegetable life, are composed of granite and porphyry. Terrific craters yawn on every side of these sombre dark-brown masses, which appear to be still teeming with those tremendous revolutions, that have given to this country its remarkable configuration. Luxuriant crops of wheat and maize cover the mountain slopes; the lower levels delight the eye with the endless variety and brilliant colours of their exotic plants; while, still lower, the tough agave darts forth its sharp and giant leaves, like so many sword-blades, and the plains are intersected by vast barrancas,[31]exhibiting that wonderful opulence of tropical fertility, which is ever at work in their deep and shady hollows. From these ascend the roar of rushing streams, invisible to the eye, but mighty in their influence; every slope they wash yielding a prodigality of vegetable ornament, which the most glowing fancy would find it difficult to paint. The flowering shrubs are linked together and covered by numberless creepers, studded with brilliant blossoms, forming continuous garlands of flowers, which climb on the roots to the crown, and conceal thousands of conzontlis, cardinal birds, and madrugadores, within their shady recesses.

It was a bright and sunny afternoon. The snowy regions of the mighty Orizava,[32]and of the mightier Popocatepetl, hitherto resplendent as burnished silver, now began to exhibit flickering tints of rose-colour, which, deepening on their eastern sides into golden-yellow and bronze, reflected every moment some fresh variety of hue. The shadows of Mount Malinche and his brethren began to stretch over towards Tlascala. Deep silence prevailed throughout the entire district, broken only by the scream of the ring eagle, or the hollow howl of the coyote.[33]

On one of the mountain ridges stretching eastward from San Martin, and over which Cortes first penetrated into the valley of Tenochtitlan, two men had stationed themselves,with their backs to a mass of porphyry rock, that rose, like a fragment of some mighty castle, above a yawning barranca of prodigious depth. The lank, straight hair, and red-black complexion of these men, indicated them to be Zambos. Their dress consisted of sheepskins, fastened round their shoulders by thongs of hide, and of some ragged under garments of a coarse black woollen stuff; their heads were covered by the broad-brimmed straw hats universally worn by the Indians and castes; machetes, or long knives, were stuck in their girdles, and heavy clubs lay on the ground at their feet. To judge from their countenances, neither of the men were in a particularly good humour. Whilst one of them stood upright, and seemed to be acting as a vedette, the other lay stretched upon the turf in a sort of sullen half slumber, until his companion, weary of his watch, threw himself down in his turn; whereupon the other arose, muttering and grumbling, to take his share of duty. For some time not a word was exchanged between the two sentries.

"Maldita cosa!" at last exclaimed the Zambo who was on his legs. "By the holy Virgin of Guadalupe, if this lasts another week, if we are to be thus tracked and hunted like caguars, may the devil seize me but I"——

"I?"—interrogated his companion.

"Will sayadiosto you; and Mexico's freedom may take care of itself."

"Wish you a pleasant journey, Señor," replied the other yawning. "Do you see yonder birds? They are waiting for you."

And he pointed to a flight of zepilots, or Mexican ravens, with sharp claws and hooked beaks, which had just then alighted on the cliffs above their heads.

"Caramba!Calleja would soon settle your business. A dangle at a rope's end, with the hangman on your shoulders, and that before you could light a cigar, or empty a glass of pulque."

"Tonterias, nonsense!" replied the grumbler. "My ahuitzote[34]is not yet come."

"It may not be far off though. You might fall into the hands of Señor Bustamente, from whom, if I remember right, you borrowed ten of his best mules, and in your haste forgot to take off their burdens."

"Basta—enough!" retorted the other Zambo, who appeared to be tired of the conversation; and taking a piece of dirty paper out of his girdle, he placed upon it a minute quantity of chopped tobacco, and rolled it into the form of a cigar. This he smeared over with saliva, and then laying it upon a fragment of rock, drew his machete, laid that upon the cigar, and walked off in the direction of an adjacent thicket.

The second Zambo had watched with envious eyes these preparations for the enjoyment of a luxury which, to Mexicans, is more necessary than their daily bread. No sooner had his companion turned his back, than he drew from his pocket two pieces of achiote wood,[35]and rubbing them together with astonishing rapidity, obtained fire in as short a time as it could have been done by the more usual agency of flint and steel. Taking possession of the cigar, he lit it, and had just begun to inhale the smoke with all the gusto of a connoisseur, when the rightful owner of the coveted morsel emerged from the thicket with two fragments of dry wood in his hand.

"Maldito gojo! Picaro! Infame!" vociferated the aggrieved Zambo, on beholding his cigar in the wrong mouth. The smoker had very prudently secured his comrade's machete, and now began to fly before the angry countenance of his enraged comrade.

"Paciencia, Señor!" cried he, dodging about and panting for breath. "Patience, most excellent sir! I will return you ten cigars, nay, a hundred, a thousand—so soon as I can get them."

"Que te lleven todos los demonios delos diez y siete infiernos!" screamed the other, who had seized his club and commenced furious pursuit of the robber. Both of them ran several times round the huge block of porphyry, but the distance between them was diminishing, and there seemed every probability that the thief's love of tobacco would cost him dear, when a thundering "Halto!" from the thicket, brought both Zambos to a dead stop.

"Que es esto?What is this?" cried a voice.

"Mi Général—no—perdon—capitan!" stammered the pursuer; "he has stolen my cigar."

The captain himself now issued from the copse, walked gravely up to the thief, took the half-consumed cigar from his mouth, and placed it in his own; then, stepping forward to the edge of the barranca, he listened a few moments, pointed down into the yawning chasm, and drew himself quickly backwards. His movements were imitated by the Zambos, who gazed for a short space on the windings of the barranca, through which meanders the old road to Cholula, made by Cortes, and then sprang back with the exclamation, "Mulos y arrieros!"

From among the windings of the above-named road, which is scarcely passable even for mules from the depths of ravines, and from amidst rocks and precipices, the pleasant tinkling of bells now ascended through the clear elastic air to the mountain summit on which the three men were posted. Presently the mules became visible, apparently no bigger than dogs, clambering slowly up the steep and rocky path; then were heard the long cadences of the muleteer's rude but not unmusical song; and at last the active figures of the muleteers themselves, with their fantastical garb and five hundred buttons, the variegated accoutrements of the mules, with their worsted plumes, and tufts, and frippery, and many-coloured saddle-cloths, and even the trabucos that were slung behind the saddles, were all distinguishable. There was a wild picturesqueness in the appearance of the cavalcade as it wound its way over the seemingly perpendicular rocks, while the rough sonorous song, accompanied by the sound of the bells, came creeping up the mountain side. Suddenly a figure detached itself from the party, as if weary of the circuitous route it was taking, and, with extraordinary activity and daring, commenced a more direct ascent. Springing from cliff to cliff, the adventurous climber seemed to find pleasure in his breakneck pastime, and continued his course without a pause till he reached the second shelf of the barranca, which was riven by a deep and wide crevice. High over his head a gigantic eagle was wheeling and circling, floating upon the air, now darting down towards him, and then again shooting upwards, sporting, as it seemed, with an anticipated prey. The young man, for such those above could now discern him to be, drew breath for a few seconds, cast a glance upwards at the kingly bird, and then, with one fearless spring, cleared the chasm. With unabated vigour he bounded from rock to rock, and at length reached a rocky projection immediately below the platform. Grasping the trunk of a dwarf oak, he climbed nimbly up it, and let himself drop from the branches on the plateau itself.

"Diabolo!" muttered the two Zambos, who had witnessed the young man's hazardous progress with that mute admiration and sympathy which the exhibition of bodily strength and activity is apt to excite, especially amongst half-civilized men—"Diabolo!He has more lives than a cat!" And with the words they slunk into the thicket.

It was no other than Don Manuel himself who had made this daring, and, as it appeared, unnecessary display of his aptitude for the life of a mountaineer—a display the more perilous, as his rich and fantastical riding dress was any thing but favourable to it. He wore a Guadalajara hat, of which the brim, full six inches broad, was completely covered with gold lace, while above the low crown was displayed the blood-red cockade adopted by loyally disposed Mexicans. His jacket was abundantly decorated with gold embroidery, and garnished with the fur of the sea otter; his breeches, of scarlet cloth, were open at the knee, where they were terminated by green and yellow ties; the whole costumewas profusely laced with gold, and loaded with silver buttons. His legs, below the knee, were protected by leatherbotinesor gamashes, fastened by silk ribands of various colours, and finally losing themselves in a pair of old-fashioned, high-quartered shoes. Spurs only were wanting to complete the riding-dress, which was more remarkable for richness than good taste, and evidently after the fashion of a previous century.

Casting a careless glance at the perilous path by which he had arrived, the young man then fixed his gaze upon the magnificent panorama spread out before him. In front were the blooming plains of Cholula, and beyond them those of Puebla de los Angeles, with their corn and maize fields, and agave plantations, divided by hedges and alleys of cactus, and dotted with the cane-built and banana-shaded Indian hamlets. To the right, springing out of the rugged porphyry ridge, the summits of which, alternately wood-crowned and naked, were glowing in the afternoon sun, arose the snowy head of the Itztaccihuatl, shedding such a flood of light and brilliancy in its isolated magnificence, that the eye vainly strove to sustain the glare. To the left towered the gigantic Popocatepetl, high above the mountain world around, a misty crown of cloud clinging to its summit; while farther to the south-east, shot up the star of Mexican mountains, the Orizava, rising like some mighty phantom into the clear blue ether, of which the quivering vibrations seemed to bring the enormous mountain each moment nearer to the beholder. Finally, in rear of Don Manuel, the thickly wooded Malinche, with its masses of forest trees and its stupendous barrancas, frowned in dark and solemn shadow.

The extraordinary contrast of the most magnificent vegetation, then just bursting out in all the green and blooming freshness of the season, with the severe grandeur of the most sublime Alpine scenery, fettered the young man for some moments in speechless admiration. He was roused from his reverie by a slight rustling behind him, and turning his head quickly, he gave a spring which, if less perilous than many of those he had recently made, was yet at least as useful in extricating him from a dangerous position.

"Picaro!" shouted one of the Zambos, whose machete had harmlessly stabbed the air, instead of piercing, as was intended, Don Manuel's heart.

"Maldito Gachupin!" cried the other, who had swung his club with a like innocuous result.

The attack of the two bravoes was made so suddenly and unexpectedly, that Manuel had barely time to jump aside. With wonderful coolness and presence of mind he sprang to the shelter of the rock, at the same moment throwing his hands forward so suddenly that one of the Zambos, in his hurry to escape, nearly ran over his companion. A brace of pistols, which the young man had drawn from the breast of his jacket, were the cause of this sudden change in the tactics of the bandits, who now retired hastily into the thicket. Don Manuel gazed after them for a few moments, and then again approached the edge of the barranca, from the top of which the mules were now no longer very distant. Not a word had escaped him during the short scuffle, and to judge from the cool indifference he had manifested, the occurrence was one of neither a rare nor extraordinary nature.

The nephew of the Conde de San Jago had not long relapsed into contemplation when he was again disturbed by a loudhalto!proceeding from the same thicket from which it had been already shouted to the Zambos, and the next instant the patriot captain issued forth with levelled carbine. No ways discomposed, the young don raised a pistol.

"Down with your gun, or I fire!" cried he.

"Indeed," said the captain, "you should be a bold cock, to judge from your crow."

"You will soon find out what I am," replied the young man dryly.

"C—jo!" quoth the captain, and removed the carbine from his shoulder.

The appearance of the patriot or rebel officer, whichever he may be styled, although less bandit-like than that of the two Zambos, was not calculated to inspire much confidence.His face was shadowed, indeed concealed, by a thick mass of black hair, which hung down over forehead, cheeks, and neck, and allowed scarcely any part of his countenance to be visible, except a pair of coal-black eyes of somewhat oblique expression. Although not of a particularly strong build, his frame was muscular, and apparently inured to hardship. He wore a round, high-crowned, Guadalajara hat, encircled by a gold band, in which was stuck a large miniature of the Virgin of Guadalupe. A second portrait of that venerated patroness was hung round his neck by a blue and white riband. His cloak, of fine cloth, and laced with gold, had been much worn and ill-treated, as had also his hose and his red velvet jerkin; on his feet he wore shoes, through which his toes had forced themselves a passage, and instead of the usual gamashes, his legs were bound round with sheepskin. Spurs, full six inches long, and with rowels of the same diameter, were affixed to his heels. His arms consisted of a carbine, a machete, and a rusty dragoon sabre.

The young Creole measured this personage with an indifferent glance, and a smile of disdain for a moment played round his mouth; but then, as if he did not deem the object worthy of further notice, he let his pistol fall carelessly by his side, and turned his back negligently upon the new comer.

"Todos diabolos!" exclaimed the captain after a moment's pause, and apparently indignant at the contempt with which he was treated. "Whence come you, and whither are you going? What is the object of your journey? Answer me, young sir, and that quickly.Soy un gran capitan! Llevo las manos y tiembla la tierra!"

"Probably one of the leaders of the self-styled patriot army," said the young Creole, in a tone of scorn, in reply to this pompous announcement.

"Even so, señor," returned the other, suddenly changing his own manner of speaking to a sort of humorous sneer—"commander of a division of the patriot army, presently in headquarters at Puebla."

"Headquarters!" repeated Manuel with infinite disdain. "Your authority extends far and wide, it would appear," added he, with a glance at his interlocutor's dilapidated shoes.

"It does so," answered the other, in the same humorous but somewhat malicious tone. "Nevertheless, my wardrobe, as your excellency doubtless perceives, has somewhat suffered in the service of the rebel cause, and as your señoria will probably have an earlier opportunity than I shall of providing yourself with another pair of shoes and gamashes, I would crave of you to condescend so far as to seat yourself upon that stone and divest yourself of those you now wear, for the behoof and advantage of the unworthy capitan before you, who will otherwise be compelled to dispossess your worship of them in a less amicable manner."

Thegran capitanwaited a few moments after making this demand, but then observing that the young Creole took no steps towards obeying his orders, he stamped impatiently upon the ground, and exclaimed in a stern peremptory tone,

"Off with them, and quickly! Your shoes and your gamashes!"

"You will find my shoes too tight for you, I expect," replied Don Manuel, raising a pistol. The Metis, on his side, covered the young nobleman with his carbine.

"Keep still, Jago," cried Don Manuel sharply, "or I will so shoe you that you shall remember Manuel M——to the very last day of your life."

The patriot officer pushed aside the hair which hung over his forehead and eyes, gazed at the Creole for a few seconds in great astonishment, and then, letting his gun fall, ran towards him with outstretched arms.

"Santa Virgen!" exclaimed he—"By the blessed Redeemer of Atolnico! May I never see heaven if it is not the very noble señor Don Manuel, nephew of his excellency Count San Jago, the first cavalier in Mexico, and son of the not-quite-so-noble but still very-tolerably-noble Señor Don Sebastian, and of the Gachupina, Señora Donna Anna de Villagio, andcortejoof the greatest angel in Mexico, and consequently in the whole world, the Countess Elvira!"

This characteristic and thoroughly Mexican apostrophe was accompanied by vehement gesticulation on the part of the Metis, in whose expressive andvariable countenance a strange mixture of fun and irony, with reverence for the illustrious persons he was speaking of, was discernible. He was interrupted in his tirade by Don Manuel.

"Have you done?" said the latter.

"Not yet," replied the captain. "May the Virgin of Guadalupe for ever deprive me of those comforts to Mexican palates, Havannah cigars and aguardiente, if I can guess what so noble a señor as yourself is doing on such a rugged path as the old Camino de Cortes, instead of taking the usual road by Otumba."

"I can tell you the reason," replied Don Manuel. "Our friends have commissioned me to have you hung, and that as soon as possible."

"Indeed!" said the captain with a sly smile; "and would you be good enough, just for the joke's sake, to tell me the names of those friends? I might, perhaps, find an opportunity of returning their kindness."

As he spoke he advanced a step towards the Creole, in a sort of familiar way.

"Keep your distance!" cried the young man. "None of your hypocritical caresses! We know each other."

"Hardly, señor," replied Jago, shaking his head. "If you knew me you would, perhaps, speak in another tone. But truly, now, should I not have been a very simple Jago to have passed my life as driver of your mules, or perhaps of thegente irracionale, as you call the poor devils of Indians? Ah! your worshipful uncle is a right noble and powerful caballero, speaks little but thinks much, and does more, and has his hand over all Mexico and themadre patria, and perhaps a step further; but believe me he would speak to Jago in a very different manner from that adopted by his nephew, the son of the tolerably-noble señor Don Sebastian. The count is a very noble gentleman; but when he made over one of his finest estates to your father, he committed a blunder that cost him three hundred able-bodied Indians. Ha ha!" continued the man, raising his sombrero from his head and setting it on again, a little on one side; "you cannot forgive poor Jago for having walked off with the three hundred Indians, who suddenly took a fancy to leave the peaceable hacienda of Don Sebastian, and follow the great Hidalgo, after the example of your very humble servant. But only think now; for three hundred lean oxen, which your worshipful father was kind enough to give to a like number of those poor devils, they had to toil a whole year; and, by the blessed Virgin, St Christopher did not sweat more when he carried the infant Jesus through the flood! It happened to those poor Indians just as it did to St Christopher. The longer they toiled the heavier grew the load; and as they had not the thews and sinews of the saint, they at last sank under the burthen. So far from being able to pay for the oxen, they got every year deeper into your tolerably-noble father's debt. Can you wonder, then, that they threw aside spades and baskets, and joined the army of Hidalgo?"

However galling the patriot captain's observations were to the young nobleman, the latter could not help being struck by their justice.

"Do you think we are dogs, señor?" continued Jago. "You are ablanco, a white, not one of our rulers certainly, but of as pure blood as any of then.Youhave never felt theinfamia de derecho[36]weighing upon you, following you like your shadow, and worse, forthatat least leaves one during the rains; and yetmyfather was as good a father as any Spaniard's could be, and my mother as good a mother. But what was the use of that? Jago is a Metis. He is infamous, and his children's children after him."

The man had touched briefly, but acutely, upon the wrongs of the two classes composing the great majority of the Mexican population, and his words seemed not to have been withouttheir effect upon the young Creole, who replied in a less harsh tone than he had hitherto employed—

"If Mexico is to be delivered by you, and such as you, then is she lost indeed."

Jago caught at the word.

"Delivered!" he repeated sarcastically. "In spite, then, of your aristocratic blood, you feel that a deliverance is wanted? Yet the world says, that for six months past you have become a worse Gachupin than the Spaniards themselves."

Don Manuel cast a furious glance at the Metis.

"Aha! that stings!" continued the latter. "What! have they played you a trick too? Butmisericordiàwith your nobility, who quailed before the rising sun of freedom, and deserted your own country to aid the tyrants who oppress it. When such was the case, the time was come for the people to assert their rights; and assert them they did, as you know."

"And a fine reward they got for so doing," retorted the youth.

"Our day will come yet," returned the captain. "You arecaballeros, very gentle and noble men, and we are onlygavilla, knaves and serfs—therefore have ye hung and shot us, struck us down like oxen, and trampled us under foot, used us worse than snared wolves. Poor Hidalgo!" continued he in a more gentle tone, "you little thought, twelve months before, how you would be peppered by the damnable Gachupins. They rubbed his hands and his poor bald head with brick-dust, slipped asan benitoover him, and sent him straight into paradise, where, doubtless, he is now giving concerts, with his musicians and the blessed St Cecilia. Allende ought to be there, too; but he is a soldier, and perhaps they would not let him in amongst the eleven thousand virgins. But enough of this. May we venture humbly to enquire of Don Manuel, what brought him upon this lonelymarques-camino? Has your young excellency, perchance, a fancy to take up arms for Mexico and freedom's sake?"

"By the Holy Virgin, Jago, you are an impudent scoundrel, and deserve a beating, for daring to suspect a caballero of such base dispositions."

The Metis smiled scornfully.

"You have chosen the other side, señor," said he, "instead of remaining neutral, which would have been best for you. Ah! beams from bright eyes! Aha!"

"Scoundrel!" cried the youth with menacing tone and gesture, "if your tongue"——

"Speaks," interrupted Jago, "what every guachinango[37]in Mexico sings over his pulque. But love blinds, they say. May I beg to know what you are doing on this road?"

"Mind your own business," replied the angry nobleman, turning his back haughtily upon his interrogator, who gazed at him for a moment with a look of comical astonishment.

"Now, by my poor soul!" exclaimed the captain, "that is an amount of pride which, if divided into a million of doses, would stock every Creole in Mexico with the drug! But listen to me, young sir. All things have their time, says the proverb, and some two years back this behaviour might have been very suitable from your worship towards Jago the arriero; but times are changed since a certain cura, named Hidalgo, hoisted the standard of Mexican liberty. Ah! your nobility, always excepting the very noble Conde San Jago, display their courage in tertulias and ballrooms, in intrigues and camarilla conspiracies; but when it came to hard knocks they crept out of the way, and left the poor priest of Dolores to help himself. Hidalgo did not understand such tricks, and began in right earnest. You should have seen Hidalgo—you would never have thought him the man he was. A short, round, little fellow, with a sanguine smile and lively eyes, and a complexion as olive-green as the Madeira bottles he was so fond of. His head was bald; he used to say his bedstead was too short, and had rubbed all his hair off; but in spite of that, and of his threescore years, hehad the sinews of a caguar and the strength of a giant; always on horseback, and a splendid rider, for he had been a lancer in thepresidios, and had had many a fight with those devils of Comanches. Ah, Hidalgo! you deserved a better fate!" concluded the patriot captain in a saddened tone.

The young Creole had listened with some interest to this short but graphic sketch of the remarkable man who first, with unexampled boldness, raised the banner of Mexican liberty, and who, as well through the originality of his private life, as through his political virtues and failings, had become an object of idolatry to his friends, and of unappeasable hatred to his opponents. Just as Jago finished speaking, Don Manuel's servants and muleteers made their appearance upon the platform.

"Welcome, Alonzo, and Pedro, and Cosmo, in the quarters of freedom!" cried Jago to the servants, as, with outstretched hand, he advanced a few steps to meet them. "A welcome to ye all!"

"Maldito herege!" cried Alonzo, bringing his carbine to his shoulder. "Dog! do you dare"——

The other servants joyfully took the proffered hand. The arrieros bowed before the man who had so lately been one of themselves, with marks of deep reverence, which were only stopped by a significant sign from theircidevantcomrade.

"Always the same man, Alonzo," said the captain with a contemptuous laugh; "just fit to say 'beso las manos a su señoria,' and to cringe and bow before counts and marquises. But it is ill speaking with dogs of that kind," added he, as he again turned to the young nobleman. "Yes, señor," he continued, "Hidalgo was a true man. He it was who first put me out of conceit with slavery of all kinds. 'Tis just sixteen months and three weeks to-morrow, since the shell burst. Hidalgo was keeping the tertulia with his musicians—it was nine in the evening. In came Don Ignacio Allende y Unzaga, as white as ashes; he had ridden for dear life from Valladolid, where Iturriaga, in order to secure his place in heaven, had consigned his sworn brothers to destruction, by confessing every thing to Father Gil, who in his turn had confessed to the Audiencia. The corregidor of Valladolid had been immediately arrested as one of the heads of the conspiracy, and luckily this had reached the ears of Allende and Aldama, who hastened to horse, and came as fast as spur and whip could bring them, to take counsel of the only man who could help them in their extremity. And counsel he gave them. He and the captain deliberated for one hour, and then out he came, brisk and bold, and declared himself ready for the fight. Off he started to the prison, put a pistol to the jailer's head, and compelled him to give up the keys and set loose the prisoners. Allende went to the houses of the Gachupins and took away their money, giving them acknowledgments for it. All this was done without blood being spilled. Only one Gachupin, who behaved roughly to Hidalgo, had been slightly wounded. The Indians, Metises, and Zambos, rallied round their cura, and away they all went to Miguel el Grande and Zelaya, where an infantry regiment and four squadrons of cavalry joined them. On to Guanaxato, where another battalion came over.Todos diabolos!" continued Jago, "Hidalgo had now more than fifty thousand men at his back; but what were they? Three thousand infantry and four hundred cavalry among a legion of Indians. The soldiers were lost amid the brown multitude, like flies in a pail of pulque. The fifty thousand Indians were shoeless and half-naked, armed with clubs and slings, or at most with machetes,which might do well enough to cut uptasajo,[38]but were a deal too short to be measured with Spanish bayonets. Capital fellows were they for plundering and murdering, but ill fitted for a fight. In Miguel el Grande, in San Felipe, in Zelaya, the Gachupins had been cut off to a man. That would not have mattered much, but thegente irracionalehad included the Creoles with the Spaniards. In Guanaxato, it was still worse. I joined Hidalgo just in time for that dance. We were received with open arms by the Léperos and Indians, but the Creoles and Gachupins had shut themselves up in the Alhondega. This was the first resistance our mad mob had met with, and they rushed like raging savages to attack the granary. They were right well received, and a desperate fight began. At last a giant of atenaterofound an enormous flat stone, put it on his head as he might have done his sombrero, and held it on with his right hand, while with a lighted torch in his left, he set fire to the door of the Alhondega. A way was soon opened to the assailants, who rushed in over the smouldering fragments of the door. In a few minutes fourteen hundred Spaniards and Creoles, with wives and children, were stabbed, struck down, and torn in pieces. The Indians waded in blood and treasure. The latter they brought out by baskets full; and the fools might be seen changing doubloons for copper money, taking them for half-dollar bits.

"About four thousand Indians had joined us out of the city, and thirty thousand out of the district, of Guanaxato. Hidalgo was at the summit of his glory. A council of war had named him generalissimo; Allende was his second in command; Ballesa, Ximenes, and Aldama, lieutenant-generals; Abasala, Ocon, and the brothers Martinez were brigadiers. Hidalgo sang aTe Deum, and divided the army into regiments, each of a thousand men, and gave regular pay; to the officers three dollars a-day, the cavalry one dollar, and the rest half a dollar. He himself appeared in field-marshal's uniform, blue with white facings, the medal of the Virgin of Guadalupe upon his breast. It would have been wiser, however, to have named him archbishop, and made Allende general-in-chief. Hidalgo was a capital priest, but a thorough bad general, and could not even maintain discipline in his army. In his first anger at the Creoles for keeping aloof from the revolution, he had included them in the cry of 'Mueran los Gachupinos!' and now his eighty thousand Indians had taken their cue from him, and murdered, and ravaged, and burned, wherever they came, like incarnate devils. In this manner, the Creoles had been rendered our inveterate enemies—more the pity. My late mother used always, when she went on a pilgrimage to Guadalupe, to burn two tapers, a white and a black one—the first for the blessed Virgin, the second for the devil. 'There is no knowing,' she used to say, 'what one may come to.'"

The interesting nature of Jago's narrative, and his originality of manner, had by this time riveted the attention of Don Manuel and his attendants.

"When we left Guanaxato," continued the ex-muleteer, "we were more than eighty thousand men, but only three thousand four hundred of us were armed. Thegente irracionale, in their mad rage, had destroyed even the muskets of the Gachupins. Our numbers, however, still kept increasing, and Hidalgo continued his march in triumph. On the 27th October we were in Tolucca. On the 28th we met Truxillo at Las Cruces, and scattered him and his fifteen hundred men to the winds of heaven. Two days later we were in sight of Mexico."

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