THE YEAR OF SORROW.—IRELAND—1849.

"Why art thou alone, unfollowed?Is it weal, or is it woe?"

Perched up as this picture is above the door in the West Room, it is difficult to arrive at a correct appreciation of it. As far as we could distinguish, it is not without merit, and the expression of exhaustion in the figure of Murray is pretty well rendered; but altogether it is hardly worthy of the nervous and admirable verse it is intended to illustrate. Mr Armitage'sAholibahhas a good deal of pretension, but we cannot compliment him on it in any one respect. In the first place the subject is disgusting, and shows wretched taste in the artist who would select it. Then the face of Aholibah is ugly and repulsive, and the expression coarse in the extreme: the drawing of the limbs under the drapery is faulty, and the gazelles are out of place and out of perspective. Mr Armitage can do better than this. We prefer his picture in the Portland Gallery, of Samson tying firebrands to the foxes' tails for the destruction of the Philistine crops; although the face is a great deal too black, and we cannot understand why Samson should allow a fox to bite into the muscle of his thigh, as one of those in his grasp appears to do. Why does Mr Armitage persist in his French style of painting? It is quite a mistake. Let him be natural, and rely upon his own taste and judgment, and we think he may do better things.

Mr Hook'sDream of Venice, a clever imitation of Paul Veronese, is a very pleasant picture. Mr F. Williams'Holy Maidenis a pretty head, full of sentiment. We are glad to see such good promise given by Mr Leslie, junior, in a very humorous picture entitledA Sailor's Yarn. A thoroughbred and unmistakeable Cockney greedily listens to some astounding narrative, whilst, behind the credulous landsman, a second sailor grins admiration of his messmate, and contempt for the "green hand."The Young Student, by W. Gush, is a very nice picture of a youthful painter, with an artist's eye and a pleasing Vandykish contour of face, and with carefully painted hands. One of the most comical pictures in the Exhibition is a wild boar by Wolf. The bristly forest-ranger is making its way through the deep snow, leaving a long furrow behind it, along which it has apparently been nuzzling for provender, for its snout is garnished with the snow, which, combined with the sudden fore-shortening of the body, produces a ludicrous effect. No. 121,Autumn—Wounded Woodcock, from the same hand, has mellow and natural tints.

We have kept back, almost to the last, one of our chief favourites in the Exhibition of the Royal Academy. Mr Sidney Cooper is in great force this year. He has six pictures; four of them all his own, two painted in conjunction with Mr F. R. Lee, R.A. With all respect for this artist, to whose landscapes we shall refer in their place, we prefer Cooper alone to Cooper in partnership. The two styles do not blend well, nor does Lee put his best landscapes into Cooper's cattle-pieces. Take the first of their pictures—No. 23—Cattle crossing a Ford. As a whole it is agreeable—and the cattle, we need hardly say, are worthy of the best English cattle-painter of the day; but the landscape is feeble. In No. 298,The Watering-place, the rather heavy paint of the foliage gives a thin washy look to the foreground. We advise Messrs Lee and Cooper to hang their pictures side by side, if they will, as excellent specimens of their respective walks of art, but not to associate themselves on the same canvass. People find fault with the landscape part of Cooper's pictures; but it is in good keeping with the rest, and moreover he improves in that respect, as in others. We will instance No. 278,A Mountain Group—Evening, some charming goats, where the background, bathed in soft light, harmonises admirably with the more prominent parts of the picture. No. 454,A Group on the Welsh Mountains, is most delicately finished, quite a gem; andFordwick Meadows—Sunset, in a somewhat broader style, is equally excellent. Mr Cooper's is a class of artwhich strongly appeals to the domestic and rural tastes of Englishmen. He excels in it, and need fear no competitors, although several artists this year exhibit cattle-landscapes of some merit. And here we should perhaps say a word about Mr Ansdell, who has put some Brobdignagian sheep into a landscape by Mr Creswick, (British Institution, No. 123,Southdowns,) and who has rather a pretty thing in the same exhibition—No. 40,The Regretted Companion—an old hawker perplexed and mournful beside the body of his dead ass. We would gladly see this artist cease to imitate Landseer. He sacrifices his originality without succeeding in catching the best points of his model.

Nos. 80, 405, 407 in the catalogue of the Academy, are Mr Lee's landscapes—uncombined with Cooper's cattle. The second,A Calm Morning, is the one we prefer; and a very charming picture of repose it is. Mr Creswick is the next upon our list. His cold unnatural grayness of colouring greatly detracts from the merit of his pictures. We are quite aware that the same reproach has been repeatedly addressed to him, and we should hardly have referred to a fault which hitherto he has either obstinately clung to, or been unable to correct, did not one of his pictures in the Academy this year give us hopes that he is on the verge of a change. No. 542,A Forest Farm, is the best picture of Creswick's, in point of colouring, that we remember to have seen. Theslatylook is replaced by an agreeable transparency. No. 289,In the Forest, is also warmer than usual. The others are in the old style. Mr Linnell is more to our taste, although we cannot approve hisChrist and the Woman of Samaria at Jacob's Well. In the first place the colour seems unnatural, altogether too brown; at the same time it is just possible nature may assume that extraordinarily russet tint in Samaria—a country to which our travels have not extended. But we can more confidently object to the figure of the Saviour as altogether unpleasant, with a harsh darkly-bearded face, devoid alike of resemblance to the received type, and of any divine expression whatever. Mr Linnell is a landscape-painter, and should not attempt sacred subjects or portraits, things which are quite out of his line. No. 395,Crossing the Brook, is of a better tone of colour; and the same artist has two other pictures, of about his usual average of merit, in the British Institution. The chief fault with which we tax Mr Linnell, (whilst freely admitting his great talent,) and one which may also be imputed to Mr Creswick, and to other clever landscape-painters of the present day, is the undeviating smallness of their touch, which gives, to use a colloquialism, a niggled look to their pictures. Hobbima, and Ruysdael, and others of that class—in whose footsteps we presume no living landscape-painter is too proud to tread—avoided this fault, and proportioned the fulness of their touch to the size of their picture. We may select an example of what we mean from the works of an able and industrious artist, who figures advantageously this year in all four exhibitions, and who, in most instances, is very free from the defect we refer to. Mr Sidney Percy'sWoodland River, No. 207, in the Portland Gallery, is a good picture, but to our thinking the touch is too small for the size. Mr Percy, however, is a man of talent and a rising painter. In the same gallery we call attention, as to one of the best landscapes exhibited this year, to his No. 277,Welsh Mountains. There is an effect of aërial perspective in this picture, especially in the grass valley, on the spectator's left hand, which deserves the very highest praise. Several others of his eighteen pictures for 1850 deserve much commendation; but we can only point out No. 576, in the Academy,A Limpid Pool, and 394,A Quiet Vale, in the British Artists'. The water in the last is very good,—otherwise it is hardly one of his best. We would have Mr Percy to beware of hardness of treatment, the fault to which he is most prone. His lines are apt to be too sharply defined, especially his distant outlines. He should guard himself against this defect, and with care he may expect to attain great eminence as a landscape-painter. Ifwe mistake not, he is one of a talented family, which also comprises Messrs Boddington and Gilbert, and several artists of the name of Williams, all of whom, we believe, devote themselves chiefly, if not exclusively, to landscape-painting, and either by identity of name or affinity of style, form a most puzzling group for conscientious critics, desirous, like ourselves, to sort their works and fairly distribute praise. We can mention but a few of their pictures, taken, nearly at random, from amongst a number we have marked as of merit or promise. In the Academy, 344,A Valley Lane, by A. W. Williams, is a charming subject, excellently treated. In the Portland Gallery, where many good landscapes are to be found, most of them by this family, we were particularly attracted by No. 41,Noon, also by A. W. Williams, and by No. 65,Medmenham Abbey—Evening, by G. A. Williams. No. 161,A Showery Afternoon in Sussex, by A. Gilbert, is remarkable as an example of the admirable effect he knows how to produce by the judicious and little-understood application of the various gradations between opacity and perfect transparency of colour. Mr Boddington has two nice pictures in the Academy.

We cannot compliment Mr F. Danby on either of the two specimens of his art that he this year displays. We find it impossible to comprehend his colouring. That ofA Golden Moment(British Institution) is surely unnatural. Certainly it is a very rare effect of sunset; and the background is too bright to be consistent with the sombre foreground. If we turn to his picture in the Academy,Spring, we are no better pleased. That sort of dusky glow is quite an exaggeration of nature. Of Mr Witherington's four pictures, we preferConiston LakeandThe Mountain Road. Mr Hering'sPorto Fesano(British Institution) is a pleasing picture, and improves on examination; and there is a great deal of light and some pretty colour in the same artist'sRuins of Romein the Academy. Mr J. Peel has rather a prettyCanal viewin the Portland Gallery, in which, oddly enough, he has thrown the shadow of a tree the wrong way; and in the same exhibition Mrs Oliver has a bit of Welsh scenery which is pretty in spite of its finical touch. Of Mr Linton, who has pictures both in the Academy and British Institution, we cannot but speak with respect, recognising the ability of his works, the study they evince, and his close observation of the aspect of places. But they are quite for distant effect; on near approach they look rough and granitic, and are not a very pleasing or popular class of pictures.

We beg Mr Boxall not to think we have forgotten him. We were desirous to commence the brief paragraph we can afford to portraits, by praising hisGeraldine, an undraped fancy portrait, which shows a capital feeling for colour, and is perhaps the best specimen of flesh-painting in the Exhibition. It wants finish; but even without that it is nearly the first thing that attracts the eye when we glance at that side of the Middle Room. There is good colour also in the same artist's portrait of Mr Cubitt.

Proceeding, with this exception, in numerical rotation, we notice No. 6,The Hon. Caroline Dawson, by Dubufe. The arms are rather flat, but it is a nice portrait, well painted, and infinitely superior to the same artist's picture in the British Institution—a French grisette with a Jewish face and an ugly mouth, holding a rose; the motto "Wither one rose and let the other flourish,"—a poor conceit and very indifferently executed. No. 52 is Mr Francis Grant's, the first, but not the best, of seven which he exhibits. Mr Grant is getting very careless. Such hands and clothes as he gives his sitters are really not allowable. The only carefully finished portrait he exhibits this year is that of Lady Elizabeth Wells, after which that of Miss Grant is perhaps the best. The Countess Bruce has an odd sort of resemblance, in the attitude or something, to the same painter's picture of Mr Sidney Herbert. The Duke of Devonshire looks vulgar. Viscount Hardinge is feeble, for Grant, who can do so much better. We urge this artist to take a little more pains, or his high reputation will dwindle. His portrait of Sir George Grey, now on view at Colnaghi's, is anotherexample of carelessness. The face is the only finished part. Mr Watson Gordon understands the portrait-painter's vocation after a different fashion, and is most conscientious in his practice. Apart from their striking resemblance, his portraits are admirable as carefully finished works of art. His sitters this year have been, upon the whole, less suited to make interesting or pleasing pictures than several of the persons who have sat to Mr Grant; but Watson Gordon has done his work far more carefully. Perhaps the best of his three portraits is that of a lady, No. 137. The child in the same picture pleases us rather less. No. 175, Daniel Vere, Esq. of Stonebyres, is a striking likeness of that gentleman; and nothing can be better, in all respects, than the portrait of the Lord Justice-General of Scotland. Mr Buckner is, we are sorry to say, retrograding sadly. He rose very suddenly into public favour, and if he does not take care, he will rapidly decline. His portrait of Miss Lane Fox is perhaps his best this year. Rachel is flattered. Lady Alfred Paget is badly coloured, and looks in an incipient stage of blue cholera. We do not like Mr Pickersgill's portraits this year. For those who do, there are seven in the Exhibition, besides an ugly thing called Nourmahal. Mr G. F. Watts has painted Miss Virginia Pattle. It is one of the most affected pictures in the whole Exhibition. The young lady is perched on a platform, her figure standing out against the blue sky, and her feet completely hidden under her dress, which latter circumstance gives her an unsteady appearance, and inspires dread lest she should be blown from her elevation. The flesh is very pasty, and the general effect of the picture jejune in the extreme. No. 282,The Duke of Aumale, is by V. Mottez, and presents a singular combination or monotony of colour, the artist having seemingly carefully avoided all tints that would give warmth to his picture. With the exception of the insipidly fair countenance of the Duke, the painting is nearly all blue. It is not a disagreeable picture, and it perhaps gains on repeated examination; but one cannot get rid of an unpleasant impression of coldness. Placed next to Boxall's Geraldine, the flesh looks like chalk. That coarse but clever painter Knight has eight portraits, including several celebrities of one kind or other—Buckstone the comedian, Keate the surgeon, Sir J. Duke the mayor, Cooper the cattle-painter, and Mrs Fitzwilliam the actress. The picture of Sir J. Duke (who is represented in all the glory of civic office) is well put together; Cooper is laughably like; Mrs Fitzwilliam is perhaps as delicate a female portrait as Knight ever painted—which is not saying much for the others. Mr Say's portrait of Guizot is softened down and idealised till the character of the man is lost. In the Portland Gallery, No. 1 and No. 70 are by an artist whose historical pictures we have already commended, Mr Newenham. The first is a full length, size of life, of Mr Ross, the engineer; the other, Mrs Gall, is a sweet female countenance. Both are very good; but Mr Newenham is always particularly successful—indeed we can call to mind no living painter who is more so—in his portraits of ladies. Whilst avoiding flattery, he still invariably paints pleasing as well as correct likenesses. Such at least is the case with all those of his lady-portraits we have had opportunities of comparing with the models. Middleton has some nice portraits in this exhibition, and Mr J. Lucas shows a pleasing one of a young lad. And one of the most lifelike and speaking portraits exhibited this year is No. 286, by R. S. Lauder, the likeness of our old friend and much-esteemed contributor, the Rev. James White. A more exact resemblance we never saw.

We have not counted them, but we are informed, and have no difficulty in believing, that there are 450 portraits (or thereabouts) in this the eighty-second exhibition of the Royal Academy. A very large number, out of 1456 works of art. Adding the portraits in the three other exhibitions, we attain a total of which, even after deducting drawings and miniatures, it is impossible for us to notice one fourth-part. And we must particularly remark, with respect to portraits and landscapes, what also applies in a less degree to the less numerous classes ofpictures, that we have unavoidably—on account of our limited space to deal with so compendious a subject, and also because we would not reduce this article to a mere catalogue—omitted notice of many artists and pictures whose claims are undoubted to mention more or less honourable; as we have also forborne, for the same reason, and much more willingly, certain censures which we should have been justified in inflicting. Concerning portraits, however, we would gladly have been rather more diffuse, had we not still to take some notice, within the compass of a very few pages, of those exhibitions to which as yet we have done little more than incidentally refer.

The restoration to the galleries of purchasers and studios of painters, of the five hundred pictures exhibited this year by the British Institution, diminishes the interest now attaching to that exhibition, and induces us to be tolerably brief in our notice of some of its leading features. No. 52,The Post Office, by F. Goodall, is a pretty picture enough, but displays no genius, and the subject suggests a comparison with Wilkie, which is not favourable. Mr Bullock'sVenus and Cupid, No. 124, is about as sickly a piece of blue and pink as we remember to have seen. Mr Sant'sRivalsgives the impression of a copy from the lid of a French plum-box. We have surely seen the Frenchified group in some engraving of Louis XV's times. Mr Woolmer'sSyrensdisplays some imagination, but the colouring is very bad. The sky is exaggerated, and the water seems to have flowed from a cesspool, suggesting unsavoury ideas of the extent of its contamination by the dead bodies that float upon it. It is a picture, nevertheless, that one is apt to look at twice. T. Clark'sThe Horses of Rhesus captured by Ulysses and Diomed, has plenty of faults, certainly, but it has also boldness and spirit, and makes us think the painter may hereafter do better things. No. 205,Lance reproving his Dog—left unfinished by the late Sir A. W. Callcott, and completed by J. Callcott Horsley—includes a pretty bit of landscape, and the dog is not bad; but, as a whole, the picture does not strike us as remarkable. No. 231,A French Fishing Girl, by T. K. Fairless, is a nice bit of colouring, very fresh and judicious; and R. M'Innes'sDetaining a Customer, tells its story well, and is of careful finish, but insipid colouring. Lady Macbeth, by T. F. Dicksee, is repulsive and unnatural; not the murderess Shakspeare conceived and Siddons acted, but a saucer-eyed maniac standing under a gas-lamp. No. 290,Our Saviour after the Temptation, is by Sir George Hayter, who has bestowed great pains without producing, as a whole, a very satisfactory result. The picture has certainly good points, but it speaks against its general excellence that we are driven to praise details. All the hands are particularly well done—Sir George's experience as a portrait painter having here availed him. The colouring of Christ's dress is good, but generally there is an abuse of yellow in the picture. The angels have no backs to their heads, but this phrenological defect is perhaps intentional, to convey the artist's notion of an angel by indicating the absence of gross passions. G. Cole'sDon Quixote and Sancho Panza in Pedro's hutis humorous, but quite a caricature. The painter seems to have studied to establish a resemblance between the men and their respective beasts. Another laughable picture is Mrs C. Smith'sIrish Piper, whose companionThe Irish Card-cutteris No. 206 in the British Artists'. As works of art, they have little merit, but one cannot help acknowledging and laughing at the vulgar humour and truth to nature they both contain. Mr Selous'The First Impression, Gutemberg showing to his wife his first experiment in printing from movable types, is perhaps the best picture in the South Room. There is an air of nature about Mr W. Wyld'sSmugglers' halt in the Sierra Morena; but the figures, although well grouped, are on too small a scale for much interest, and the landscape lacks attraction. Our old friend George Cruikshank gives full scope to his rich humour in No. 100,Sancho's surprise on seeing the Squire of the Wood's Nose; and 455,Disturbing the Congregation. This last is inimitable—brimful of fun. A charity boy has let his peg-top fall during service, and the awful clatter upon the church pavement draws all eyes in the direction of the delinquent.This is a picture that must be seen, not described; but our readers will imagine all the fun Cruikshank would make of such a subject—the terrified face of the culprit, in vain affecting unconsciousness, and the awful countenance of the beadle. We must say a word of Mr J. F. Herring'sA Farmyard, which contains some good horses; but he has huddled his objects too much together, his colouring is very opaque, and there is a want of air and perspective in the picture. There is the same defect of thick colour in Mr H. Jutsum's pretty composition,Evening—coming home to the Farm.

We have already mentioned several pictures in the Portland Gallery, including a portrait by Mr R. S. Lauder, (the president of this new society,) which is perhaps the best, although one of the most unpretending, of the seven pictures he exhibits. We do not discern any very great merit in two carefully painted illustrations of Quentin Durward. We should like to know on what authority Mr Lauder makes a tall, large-limbed man of Louis XI., and how he intends to get him and the raw-boned Scot through the door in No. 166, without a most unkingly deviation from the perpendicular. There is here a fault of perspective. And Mr Lauder should beware of repetition. We remember the lady behind the tapestry in No. 45, in at least a dozen of his pictures. This, however, is the best of the pair, and there is good painting in it. His most important picture this year is that ofChrist appearing to two of his Disciples on the way to Emmaus. This is certainly a fine work, although there is much opposition of opinion respecting it. There is undoubtedly a fine sentiment in the colouring, which is peculiarly applicable to the subject. Mr M'Ian is in great force here, with no less than ten pictures. We like this artist for the character and energy he infuses into his productions. His most attractive picture this year is No. 55,Here's his health in Water!thus explained—"A Highland gentleman of 1715, in Carlisle prison, the day previous to his execution, receiving the last visit of his mother, wife, and children, and instilling into his son—the future Highland gentleman of 1745—the principles of loyalty." The face of the condemned Highlander is full of vigour and determination, as is also that of his mother, a resolute old lady, who seems to confirm his precepts to her grandchild. The countenances of the sorrowing wife and of the little girl, whose attention is distracted by the opening of the prison door, are natural and pleasing. The boy, a sturdy scion of the old stock, drinks King James's health out of the prison-mug of water. We will not omit to praise Mrs M'Ian's very well-painted picture ofCaptivity and Liberty—gipsies in prison, with swallows twittering in the loophole that affords them light. There is a nice feeling about this picture, which includes a handsome gipsy face; it is careful in its details, and very effective in point of chiaroscuro. No. 251,A Jealous Man, disguised as a Priest, hears the confession of his Wife, is a subject (from theDecameron) of which more might have been made than there has been by Mr D. W. Deane. The countenances lack decided expression. Several artists have this year painted scenes from theTempest, and Mr A. Fussell is one of the number. It were to be wished he had abstained. His picture ofCaliban, Ariel, and his fellows, is very bad indeed. He should be less ambitious in his subjects, or at least less fantastical in their treatment. It is unintelligible to us how this picture illustrates the passage quoted. Nos. 264-5 are Mr H. Barraud's pictures:—Lord have mercy upon us, andWe praise thee, O God!the engravings of which have for some time past been in every shop-window. We are really at a loss to comprehend theengouementfor these pictures, which seem to us as deficient in real sentiment as they are feeble in execution. They are pretty enough, certainly, but that is all the praise we are disposed to accord them. There is no great beauty in the faces; and one of the boys (on the spectator's right hand) is a mere lout, without any expression whatever. The Messrs Barraud have a great many pictures in this exhibition—amongst others, No. 199,The Curfew, their joint production, which is pretty, but in respect to which it strikes us that they haveread Gray's poem wrong, for the light in their picture is not that of parting day, but of approaching sunset. Mr Rayner'sBeauchamp Chapel, Warwick, is a good picture; Mr Niemann'sKenilworth from the Tilt-yard, andLandscape, No. 72, also deserve praise; Mr Dighton is very effective in some of his landscapes and studies. Upon the whole, this young exhibition promises well.

Driven to our utmost limits, we must conclude, without further mention than we have already here and there made of the Society of British Artists in Suffolk Street; and we do so with the less regret because that gallery contains but a small proportion of pictures of merit. Mr Anthony contributes a very large number of his odd paintings, some of which are rather effective at a distance; but it is not a style we admire. Finally, we have with pleasure noticed, during our many rambles through the different galleries, that the public not only visit but buy; and we trust that the year 1850 will prove profitable and satisfactory to British artists, in the same proportion that it undoubtedly is creditable to their industry, and, upon the whole, highly honourable to their talents. One word more we will say at parting. In this article we have written down opinions, formed neither hastily nor partially, of whose soundness, although critics will always differ, we venture to feel pretty confident. We have applied ourselves to point out merits rather than defects, and to distribute praise in preference to blame; but we should have failed in our duty to ourselves and the public, had we altogether abstained from the latter. We well know, however, the many difficulties and discouragements that beset the path of the painter. And it would be matter for sincere regret to us, if, in the freedom of our remarks, we had unwittingly hurt the feelings of any man who is honestly and earnestly striving in the pursuit of a very difficult art—although his success may as yet be incommensurate with his industry and zeal.

Once more, through God's high will and grace,Of Hours that each its task fulfils,Heart-healing Spring resumes its place;—The valley throngs and scales the hills,In vain. From earth's deep heart o'ercharged,The exulting life runs o'er in flowers;—The slave unfed is unenlarged:In darkness sleep a nation's powers.Who knows not Spring? Who doubts, when blowsHer breath, that Spring is come indeed?The swallow doubts not; nor the roseThat stirs, but wakes not, nor the weed.I feel her near, but see her not,For those with pain-uplifted eyesFall back repulsed; and vapours blotThe vision of the earth and skies.I see her not; I feel her near,As, charioted in mildest airs,She sails through yon empyreal sphere,And in her arms and bosom bearsThat urn of flowers and lustral dews,Whose sacred balm, o'er all things shed,Revives the weak, the old renews,And crowns with votive wreaths the dead.Once more the cuckoo's call I hear;I know, in many a glen profound,The earliest violets of the yearRise up like water from the ground.The thorn I know once more is white;And, far down many a forest dale,The anemones in dubious lightAre trembling like a bridal veil.By streams released that singing flowFrom craggy shelf through sylvan glades,The pale narcissus, well I know,Smiles hour by hour on greener shades.The honeyed cowslip tufts once moreThe golden slopes;—with gradual rayThe primrose stars the rock, and o'erThe wood-path strews its milky way.—From ruined huts and holes come forthOld men, and look upon the sky!The Power Divine is on the earth:—Give thanks to God before ye die!And ye, O children worn and weak,Who care no more with flowers to play,Lean on the grass your cold, thin cheek,And those slight hands, and whispering, say,"Stern Mother of a race unblest—In promise kindly, cold in deed;Take back, O Earth, into thy breast,The children whom thou wilt not feed."

Once more, through God's high will and grace,Of Hours that each its task fulfils,Heart-healing Spring resumes its place;—The valley throngs and scales the hills,

In vain. From earth's deep heart o'ercharged,The exulting life runs o'er in flowers;—The slave unfed is unenlarged:In darkness sleep a nation's powers.

Who knows not Spring? Who doubts, when blowsHer breath, that Spring is come indeed?The swallow doubts not; nor the roseThat stirs, but wakes not, nor the weed.

I feel her near, but see her not,For those with pain-uplifted eyesFall back repulsed; and vapours blotThe vision of the earth and skies.

I see her not; I feel her near,As, charioted in mildest airs,She sails through yon empyreal sphere,And in her arms and bosom bears

That urn of flowers and lustral dews,Whose sacred balm, o'er all things shed,Revives the weak, the old renews,And crowns with votive wreaths the dead.

Once more the cuckoo's call I hear;I know, in many a glen profound,The earliest violets of the yearRise up like water from the ground.

The thorn I know once more is white;And, far down many a forest dale,The anemones in dubious lightAre trembling like a bridal veil.

By streams released that singing flowFrom craggy shelf through sylvan glades,The pale narcissus, well I know,Smiles hour by hour on greener shades.

The honeyed cowslip tufts once moreThe golden slopes;—with gradual rayThe primrose stars the rock, and o'erThe wood-path strews its milky way.

—From ruined huts and holes come forthOld men, and look upon the sky!The Power Divine is on the earth:—Give thanks to God before ye die!

And ye, O children worn and weak,Who care no more with flowers to play,Lean on the grass your cold, thin cheek,And those slight hands, and whispering, say,

"Stern Mother of a race unblest—In promise kindly, cold in deed;Take back, O Earth, into thy breast,The children whom thou wilt not feed."

Then die, thou Year—thy work is done:The work ill done is done at last.Far off, beyond that sinking sun,Which sets in blood, I hear the blastThat sings thy dirge, and says—"Ascend,And answer make amid thy peers,(Since all things here must have an end,)Thou latest of the famine years!"I join that voice. No joy have IIn all thy purple and thy gold,Nor in the nine-fold harmonyFrom forest on to forest rolled:Nor in that stormy western fire,Which burns on ocean's gloomy bed,And hurls, as from a funeral pyre,A glare that strikes the mountain's head;And writes on low-hung clouds its linesOf cyphered flame, with hurrying hand;And flings amid the topmost pinesThat crown the steep, a burning brand.Make answer, Year, for all they dead,Who found not rest in hallowed earth,The widowed wife, the father fled,The babe age-stricken from his birth.Make answer, Year, for virtue lost;For Faith, that vanquished fraud and force,Now waning like a noontide ghost;Affections poisoned at their source:The labourer spurned his lying spade;The yeoman spurned his useless plough;The pauper spurned the unwholesome aid,Obtruded once, exhausted now.The weaver wove till all was dark,And, long ere morning, bent and bowedAbove his work with fingers stark;And made, nor knew he made, a shroud.The roof-trees fall of hut and hall,I hear them fall, and falling cry—"One fate for each, one fate for all;So wills the Law that willed a lie."Dread power of Man! what spread the wasteIn circles, hour by hour more wide,And would not let the past be past?—The Law that promised much, and lied.Dread power of God! whom mortal yearsNor touch, nor tempt; who sitt'st sublimeIn night of night,—O bid thy spheresResound at last a funeral chime.Call up, at last, the afflicted RaceWhom Man not God abolished. Sore,For centuries, their strife: the placeThat knew them once shall know no more.

Then die, thou Year—thy work is done:The work ill done is done at last.Far off, beyond that sinking sun,Which sets in blood, I hear the blast

That sings thy dirge, and says—"Ascend,And answer make amid thy peers,(Since all things here must have an end,)Thou latest of the famine years!"

I join that voice. No joy have IIn all thy purple and thy gold,Nor in the nine-fold harmonyFrom forest on to forest rolled:

Nor in that stormy western fire,Which burns on ocean's gloomy bed,And hurls, as from a funeral pyre,A glare that strikes the mountain's head;

And writes on low-hung clouds its linesOf cyphered flame, with hurrying hand;And flings amid the topmost pinesThat crown the steep, a burning brand.

Make answer, Year, for all they dead,Who found not rest in hallowed earth,The widowed wife, the father fled,The babe age-stricken from his birth.

Make answer, Year, for virtue lost;For Faith, that vanquished fraud and force,Now waning like a noontide ghost;Affections poisoned at their source:

The labourer spurned his lying spade;The yeoman spurned his useless plough;The pauper spurned the unwholesome aid,Obtruded once, exhausted now.

The weaver wove till all was dark,And, long ere morning, bent and bowedAbove his work with fingers stark;And made, nor knew he made, a shroud.

The roof-trees fall of hut and hall,I hear them fall, and falling cry—"One fate for each, one fate for all;So wills the Law that willed a lie."

Dread power of Man! what spread the wasteIn circles, hour by hour more wide,And would not let the past be past?—The Law that promised much, and lied.

Dread power of God! whom mortal yearsNor touch, nor tempt; who sitt'st sublimeIn night of night,—O bid thy spheresResound at last a funeral chime.

Call up, at last, the afflicted RaceWhom Man not God abolished. Sore,For centuries, their strife: the placeThat knew them once shall know no more.

Fall, Snow, and cease not! Flake by flakeThe decent winding-sheet compose:Thy task is just and pious; makeAn end of blasphemies and woes.Fall flake by flake: by thee alone,Last friend, the sleeping draught is given:Kind nurse, by thee the couch is strewn,The couch whose covering is from heaven.Descend and clasp the mountain's crest;Possess wide plain and valley deep:—This night, in thy maternal breastForsaken myriads die in sleep.Lo! from the starry Temple gatesDeath rides, and bears the flag of peace:The combatants he separates;He bids the wrath of ages cease.Descend, benignant Power! But O,Ye torrents, shake no more the vale;Dark streams, in silence seaward flow;Thou rising storm, remit thy wail.Shake not, to-night, the cliffs of Moher,Or Brandon's base, rough sea! Thou Isle,The Rite proceeds:—from shore to shoreHold in thy gathered breath the while.Fall, snow! in stillness fall, like dewOn temple roof, and cedar's fan;And mould thyself on pine and yew,And on the awful face of man.Without a sound, without a stir,In streets and wolds, on rock and mound,O omnipresent comforter,By thee, this night, the lost are found.On quaking moor, and mountain moss,With eyes upstaring at the sky,And arms extended like a cross,The long-expectant sufferers lie.Bend o'er them, white-robed Acolyte!Put forth thine hand from cloud and mist,And minister the last sad rite,Where altar there is none, nor priest.Touch thou the gates of soul and sense:Touch darkening eyes and dying ears;Touch stiffening hand and feet, and thenceRemove the trace of sin and tears.And ere thou seal those filmed eyes,Into God's urn thy fingers dip,And lay, 'mid eucharistic sighs,The sacred wafer on the lip.This night the Absolver issues forth:This night the Eternal Victim bleeds—O winds and woods—O heaven and earth!Be still this night. The Rite proceeds.

Fall, Snow, and cease not! Flake by flakeThe decent winding-sheet compose:Thy task is just and pious; makeAn end of blasphemies and woes.

Fall flake by flake: by thee alone,Last friend, the sleeping draught is given:Kind nurse, by thee the couch is strewn,The couch whose covering is from heaven.

Descend and clasp the mountain's crest;Possess wide plain and valley deep:—This night, in thy maternal breastForsaken myriads die in sleep.

Lo! from the starry Temple gatesDeath rides, and bears the flag of peace:The combatants he separates;He bids the wrath of ages cease.

Descend, benignant Power! But O,Ye torrents, shake no more the vale;Dark streams, in silence seaward flow;Thou rising storm, remit thy wail.

Shake not, to-night, the cliffs of Moher,Or Brandon's base, rough sea! Thou Isle,The Rite proceeds:—from shore to shoreHold in thy gathered breath the while.

Fall, snow! in stillness fall, like dewOn temple roof, and cedar's fan;And mould thyself on pine and yew,And on the awful face of man.

Without a sound, without a stir,In streets and wolds, on rock and mound,O omnipresent comforter,By thee, this night, the lost are found.

On quaking moor, and mountain moss,With eyes upstaring at the sky,And arms extended like a cross,The long-expectant sufferers lie.

Bend o'er them, white-robed Acolyte!Put forth thine hand from cloud and mist,And minister the last sad rite,Where altar there is none, nor priest.

Touch thou the gates of soul and sense:Touch darkening eyes and dying ears;Touch stiffening hand and feet, and thenceRemove the trace of sin and tears.

And ere thou seal those filmed eyes,Into God's urn thy fingers dip,And lay, 'mid eucharistic sighs,The sacred wafer on the lip.

This night the Absolver issues forth:This night the Eternal Victim bleeds—O winds and woods—O heaven and earth!Be still this night. The Rite proceeds.

If we pique ourselves on anything, it is on our invincible good-nature. We are as slow to be roused as a brown bear in the midst of its winter sleep; and, if we were let alone, we very much doubt whether, by any conceivable exertion, we could work ourselves into a downright passion. But, somehow or other, it constantly happens that people of a less tranquil mood step in to deprive us of the enjoyment of our untroubled repose. At one time some worthy fellow entreats us to take up the public cudgel and belabour a blatant Economist. At another, we are pathetically besought to administer due castigation to some literary sinner who has transgressed the first principles of decency, morality, and taste. One friend implores us, with tears in his eyes, to take up the case of the oppressed and injured washerwomen: a second puts a tomahawk into our hand, and benevolently suggests the severment of the skull of a charlatan: a third writes to us regarding a rowing match, in which he opines gross injustice has been done by the umpire to the Buffs, and he fervently prays for our powerful assistance in vindicating the honour of the Blues.

In all national questions, it seems to be expected that we are to act with the devotion of a knight-errant. Whenever Scotland is assailed, the general impression is that we are bound to stand forth, and incontinently give battle to the enemy: and we believe it will be admitted that we have done so before now with no inconsiderable effect. It so happens that, at the present juncture, several of our most esteemed compatriots, feeling themselves deeply aggrieved by theoutrecuidanceof the Southron, have laid the story of their wrongs before us; and, after a deliberate review of the whole circumstances of the case, we feel ourselves compelled to come forward in behalf of our countrymen. Let no man venture to say that Chess is an ignoble subject. It is, if properly considered, as recondite a science as mathematics. Kings, conquerors, and sages have not thought it beneath them to ponder over the chequered board; and it may be that the noble game has contributed in no light degree to the success of their most triumphant efforts. We know of no absorption more complete than that which possesses the mind of a true votary of chess. Watch him as he is contemplating his moves, and his countenance is a perfect study for the physiognomist. He may not perhaps be the most agreeable of companions, but we cannot expect loquacity from men of high intellect whilst engaged in deepest rumination.

Let us, however, dispense as much as possible with preface, and come to the actual offence which has induced us to take up our pen in vindication of the national honour. Our attention has been called to what is undoubtedly a departure from the fair and liberal spirit which ought to actuate antagonists—in short, by an attempt to deprive the Edinburgh Chess Club of laurels which were fairly and honourably won. It is all very well for men who have been beaten to apply salves to their wounded vanity, and to persuade themselves that they have failed rather through misfortune than from any deficiency of skill. Napoleon used to amuse himself at St Helena by demonstrating that heoughtto have won the battle of Waterloo—a position in which, we doubt not, Count Montholon and General Bertrand entirely concurred, though, after a certain time, they must have been tolerably sick of the subject. But these affirmations of the Emperor did not serve the purpose of reinstating him on the throne of France; and, in like manner, opine that the writers who, at this time of day, are, applying themselves to the task of persuading the public that the great match at chess between Edinburgh and London, which was won by Edinburgh in 1828, ought to have terminated otherwise, are losing their labour, and, moreover, placing themselves in a very ridiculous position.

We like to see a man take a beating in good part. The Southron maycome here and vanquish us at cricket, and we shall submit to be bowled or caught out with the utmost equanimity—no member of the Grange Club will retire to the cloister in consequence. He may extinguish our renown at rackets, or even soar considerably above our mark in the altitude of the flying-leap. We shall not cavil at the result, should some Southron Robin Hood defeat the Queen's Body Guard in the toxophilite competition which is about to take place in this city. We shall not be jealous if the stranger beats us; and if, in return, we should extinguish him utterly at golf or throwing the hammer, we promise to crow as mildly as the plenitude of our lungs will permit. But we have no idea of pushing complaisance to such an extraordinary point, as to permit our real victories to be perverted and annulled at the hands of a defeated adversary. Hectormighthave beaten Achilles, but he did not; and the mere fact of a remote possibility having once existed, will not justify us in giving the lie to Homer. We make every allowance for testiness; still we cannot help thinking it extraordinary that those feelings of mortification, which might perhaps have been excusable in the defeated party at the moment of the antagonist's triumph, should manifest themselves as strongly as ever nearly a quarter of a century after the contest—and that, too, in persons who took no actual share in it, and are comparatively strangers to the views and opinions of those really concerned.

English chess-players have the command of all the chess-periodicals, which emanate chiefly, if not exclusively, from the London press; and which have, for many years back, been made the vehicles of repeated observations intended to depreciate the triumph of Scotland. Of late these have been even more than usually frequent. And within the last year, theQuarterly Review, which, like the trunk of an elephant, is as ready to pick up a pin as to uproot a tree, has opened its pages for remarks on the chess match, conceived in no very handsome spirit towards the Scotch champions. This we do not consider to be justifiable conduct on the part of our bulky contemporary. In the accomplished editor—himself a Scot—it is in direct antagonism to the principles of Richie, the servitor of Nigel, who made so vigorous a stand for the credit of the Water of Leith; and we regret to observe so palpable a falling off from the fervid patriotism of the Moniplies. The uniform burden of the song is, that the event of the match was determined by an accident,—or by what they reckon as nearly equivalent to an accident—an oversight upon the part of the London Club, to which the best of players are liable, and which in this instance is said to have been rather ungenerously taken advantage of by Edinburgh. The Scottish players have hitherto said very little upon the subject, contenting themselves with a short but perfectly satisfactory answer, made immediately after the termination of the match, to some observations of Mr Lewis, in which, while they conclusively disposed of his views and inferences, they at the same time stated, that they were "far from begrudging to the London Club the usual consolation of a beaten adversary—of going back upon a game, and showing that, if they had played otherwise at a particular point, they could have won the game." The constant reiteration of the English statement, however, is calculated to produce an erroneous impression in the minds of those not acquainted with the merits of the question.

The London and Edinburgh chess match, which was played by correspondence, was begun in the year 1824. It was the result of a challenge given by the Edinburgh Club, which was then only in its infancy. The terms agreed on were, that the match should consist of three won games; and that, in case of any game being drawn, a new one, begun by the same opener, should take its place. The match commenced on 23d April 1824. Two games were opened simultaneously. The first game was opened by the Edinburgh Club; and in sending their first answering move, the London Club also sent the first move of the second game. The first game, which consisted of 35 moves, was, on 14th December 1824, declared to be drawn. The second, which consisted of 52 moves, was resigned by theLondon Club on 23d February 1825. The third game—opened by the Edinburgh Club in place of the first game, which had been drawn—was begun on 20th December 1824; it consisted of 99 moves, and was drawn on 18th March 1828. The fourth game, begun by the Edinburgh Club, on 26th February 1825, was resigned by them on 15th September 1826, at the 55th move. The fifth game, begun by the Edinburgh Club, on 6th October 1826, was resigned by the London Club on 31st July 1828, at the 60th move—and this determined the match in favour of Edinburgh.

The simple statement of these details is sufficient altogether to exclude the idea that the result of the match was a mere accident, where manifestly inferior players profited by the unfortunate blunder of their superior antagonists. Though the Edinburgh Club had lost, instead of gaining, two out of the three games, it would still have been in vain to maintain that the play in the match showed them to be unquestionably inferior. The contest was a long and severe one. When the fifth and deciding game was proceeding, each party had gained one game, and there had been two drawn games, both of which were keenly disputed, without the least advantage in favour of London at any point of either; while, on the other hand, in the third game, Edinburgh had obtained an advantage, though not sufficient to enable them to checkmate their adversaries. It has never been pretended, by the most unscrupulous partisan of England, that the winning of the fifth game was ascribable to an oversight. On the contrary, their chess writers have, with most becoming fairness and candour, always referred to it as an instance of admirable play on the part of Edinburgh; and members of the London committee, who shortly after happened to visit Edinburgh, acknowledged that their committee were quite unable to discover the object of particular moves, the effect of which had been previously calculated, and reduced to demonstration by the Edinburgh players. Is there, in all this, such evidence of overwhelming superiority on the part of the English players, that their losing the matchmusthave been an accident?

But it is time to inquire a little more minutely into the so-called blunder, which the Englishmen say was the cause of their defeat. And here it is but fair to give their statement in their own words. TheQuarterlyreviewer says—

"Perhaps the most remarkable instance on record of a strict enforcement of the tenor of chess law occurred in the celebrated match, by correspondence, between the London and Edinburgh Clubs. At the 27th move of the second game, the London Club threw a rook away. How they did so, Mr Lewis explains in the following words:—'The 26th, 27th, and 28th moves were sent on the same day to the Edinburgh Club. This was done to save time. It so happened that the secretary, whose duty it was to write the letters, had an engagement which compelled him to leave the Club two hours earlier than usual—the letter was therefore posted at three instead of five o'clock. In the mean time, one of the members discovered that the 2d move (the 27th) had not been sufficiently examined.[10]An application was immediately made at the Post-office for the letter, which was refused. In consequence, a second letter was transmitted by the same post to the Edinburgh Club, retracting the 2d and 3d moves, and abiding only by the first. The Edinburgh Club, in answer, gave it as their decided opinion that the London Club were bound by their letter, and that no move could be retracted: they therefore insisted on the moves being played. The London Club conceded the point, though they differed in opinion.'"We cannot but think, under all the circumstances, the Edinburgh Club were to blame. What rendered the mishap more vexatious to the Londoners was, that whereas they had a won game before, they now barely lost it, and thereby the match, which the winning of this game would have decided in their favour.There can be little doubt that the London Club (then comprising Messrs Lewis, Fraser, and Cochrane) was the strongest of the two. On the part of Edinburgh, we believe the lion's share of the work fell to the late Mr Donaldson."

"We cannot but think, under all the circumstances, the Edinburgh Club were to blame. What rendered the mishap more vexatious to the Londoners was, that whereas they had a won game before, they now barely lost it, and thereby the match, which the winning of this game would have decided in their favour.There can be little doubt that the London Club (then comprising Messrs Lewis, Fraser, and Cochrane) was the strongest of the two. On the part of Edinburgh, we believe the lion's share of the work fell to the late Mr Donaldson."

In the remarks on the London and Amsterdam match, in Mr Staunton's periodical, (theChess-Player's Chronicle,) for February 1850, there is the following passage:—

"If the relative skill of the competitors engaged on each side were to be the gauge by which to estimate the probable result of a contest like this, it would have been easy to predict to which party victory would incline; and we should have wondered at the daring gallantry that prompted the little band of Hollanders to challenge the leviathans of London. Experience, however, has shown that, in a match of chess by correspondence, the battle is not always to the strong, and that foresight and profound calculation are of infinitely less account, when the men may be moved experimentally, than they are in ordinary chess, where conclusions must be tried by the head, and not by the hand. Of this, indeed, the archives of the London Club afford a memorable instance. In March 1824, a proposal was made to this Club by the Club at Edinburgh, to play a match at chess by correspondence for a silver cup; the match to consist of three games, (irrespective of drawn games;) two games to be played together, and the winner of the first game to have the move in the third. The London Club at this period was in the pride and plenitude of its strength, and the committee appointed to conduct the match comprised every name of note among the chess-players of the metropolis. The Edinburgh Chess-Club, on the other hand, was composed of amateurs comparatively unknown and inexperienced, and possessed one player only—the late Mr Donaldson—capable of making anything like a stand 'over the board' with any of the London chiefs. In an ordinary contest, indeed, over the board, it was the old odds of Lombard Street to a China orange! Maugre all the advantages of superior skill and practice, however, the Londoners lost the battle, and lost it by a blunder as ridiculous as it was vexatious, at the very moment, too, when the game was in their hands."

The general remarks on playing by correspondence in this last passage are evidently made to furnish a pretence for introducing the notice of the London and Edinburgh match; and they share the fate of all such forced work. They are absolute nonsense. The probability that a decidedly superior will overcome an inferior player, is not at all diminished by the circumstance that the match is played by correspondence. On the contrary, we should rather be inclined to say that the chance of an inferior player's escape in a single game or so is almost extinguished where the match is played by correspondence; because the time given for deliberation increases the improbability of his antagonist's erring from carelessness, or not taking in the whole position of the game, which sometimes occurs in playing over the board. But there is an inconsequence in the whole argument which surprises us to find in anything sanctioned by a person of Mr Staunton's unquestionable powers of mind. The loss of the match by London is not to be wondered at, it is said, because it was a match by correspondence; and the immediate cause of their losing it was the commission of a ridiculous and vexatious blunder! To make this anything like logic, it would be necessary to hold that ridiculous and vexatious blunders are more likely to be committed when the player has time and opportunity to consider his moves, and to make experiments upon their effect, than where he is under the necessity of moving at once in presence of an adversary, and possibly of spectators, apt to get impatient at long delay. It is plain that the game's being played by correspondence was the very circumstance calculated to render the London Club's particular excuse for losing all the more untenable.

It is quite true, however, that at a particular stage of the game opened by the London Club, (being one of the two games with which the match commenced,) the London Club might have won the game, by playing other moves than they did. This may be said of every game; but it is as unusual as it is unhandsome for the unsuccessful party, merely because he has missed such an opportunity of winning, to refuse all credit to his adversary for afterwards defeating him. In the third game, which was drawn, the Edinburgh Club would have won if they had played a different 51st movefrom that which they did. But this did not lead them to make depreciatory remarks about their antagonists: all that their report bears on this point is, that the London Club "conducted a difficult defence with great skill and dexterity, and finally succeeded in drawing the game."

Further, the remarks above quoted are calculated to produce an erroneous idea respecting the situation and conduct of the two clubs in the second game. The sophistry consists in mixing up two entirely separate and unconnected things. In this same game in which the London Club failed to observe that they had a winning position, they applied to have two of their moves recalled after they were despatched, and the Edinburgh committee refused their request. Now the obvious tendency of all that the English writers say upon the subject is to create the impression that if the London Club had been allowed to recall these two moves, they would have retained their winning position. This is plainly the only construction that the passage in theQuarterly Reviewis capable of bearing. It is the only construction which would justify his remarks, or make them at all intelligible. But it is quite incorrect. The only moves which the London committee wished to recall were the 27th and 28th; but they have never attempted to show that if they had been allowed to do so, they could have won the game. It has been demonstrated, over and over again, that they could not. In fact, the moves they wished to recall were as good as any others then in their power. They might have drawn the game if these moves had been played; and they could have done no more had they been allowed to recall them. This matter was set at rest while the match was still pending, by a proposal which emanated from the Edinburgh Club. When the Londoners lost the game, Mr Lewis insinuated, though he did not expressly state, that if they had not been held to the 27th and 28th moves, they would have won the game. A member of the Edinburgh Club then offered to play a back-game with any one or more of the London Club, in which the London players were to be allowed a new 27th move instead of the one they had made, and wished to recall; and also another back-game in which the Edinburgh player was to take the London sideat an earlier stage of the game, with the view of showing that, by playing differently, the London Club might have won it. This proposal was under consideration of the London Clubfor several weeks, during which they satisfied themselves that the recall of the 27th and 28th moves would be of no use, and, accordingly, it was declined. It is surely not very uncharitable to surmise that it was during this period, and on the suggestion of their opponents, that they discovered that the error was not in the 27th move which they had proposed to recall, but in the 26th, which they had examined and adhered to. In his first publication of the games, Mr Lewis gives no back-game on this 26th move; and it is believed that no member of the London Club was aware, till the game was finished, that by playing differently at the 26th move they might have won it. But Mr Lewis admits that the game could not be won by a mere alteration of the 27th or 28th move; and any one who says that it could, is either speaking in ignorance of the subject, or is making a wilful misrepresentation. The likelihood of the remarks of the English writers producing an erroneous impression arises from their mixing up these two separate and distinct things: 1st, that at a previous stage of the game, the London Club had a winning position which they did not discover, and failed to avail themselves of; and, 2d, that the Edinburgh Club would not allow them to retract the 27th and 28th moves. These two facts have no longer any possible connection with each other when it is known that, at the 27th move, the London Club had ceased to have a winning position, and that the recall of that move would have been of no use to them. The failure, at a previous stage of the game, to maintain the winning position which they had, is simply one among several illustrations which occurred in the match, of the truth that the London Club, "in the pride and plenitude of its strength," did not always play as well as it was possible to have done.How such things show that superiority on the part of London, which they are brought forward to establish, we confess ourselves unable to understand, unless we were to adopt the principle of theChess-Players' Chronicle, that it is the best players who are most likely to commit errors in conducting a match by correspondence!!

It seems to be a source of melancholy consolation to the English players, that their Club committed a "ridiculous and vexatious blunder." We are sorry that, in our strict regard for truth, we must deprive them even of that comfort. The losing of the disputed game was not a ridiculous blunder, however vexatious. On the contrary, the series of moves by which they lost the chance of winning, was at first a very promising attack, and had the additional temptation of appearing brilliant and enterprising. If any chess-player will set up the men at the 27th move of the London Club, or glance at the diagram given in Mr Staunton's periodical for May 1850, he will see that nothing but the utmost skill and caution on the part of Edinburgh could have successfully warded off the attack. The London Club had not contemplated the defence which they met with; and if, in these circumstances, they were seduced into an ingenious but unsound attack, it may be conceded that they manifested want of circumspection, an important qualification in a chess-player; but they cannot be accused of committing a ridiculous blunder. They talk of having "thrown away" a rook. They did no such thing. The rook was played not by mistake, but for the very purpose of being taken in the course of their dashing but unsuccessful attack. And in Mr Lewis's analyses, it will be found that many of his methods of winning, at previous stages of the game, involve this very sacrifice of the rook.

The refusal of the Edinburgh Club to allow the recall of the 27th and 28th moves loses all its importance when it is known that it did not affect the fate of the game. But we should in any circumstances be sorry to believe that, in so refusing, they had done what deserved the censure bestowed on them by theQuarterlyreviewer. In considering the propriety of their conduct, there are only two lights in which the request may be viewed. They were either asked to do what the London Club had a right to demand, or they were asked to grant a favour to the London Club. We do not know that the former view is supported by any of the English writers. Even theQuarterlyreviewer does not say that the London Club had arightto recall the moves; and on this question of right it appears to us that there cannot be the least shadow of a doubt. The letter containing the moves was despatched to the Post-office. It was held by the Post-office for the party to whom it was addressed, and was entirely beyond the control of the party sending it. The piece, in every sense, was therefore "let go" by the player; and the 8th Article of Sarratt's laws of chess, by which it was agreed that the games should be played, provides that "as long as a player holds a piece, he is at liberty to play it where he chooses; but when he haslet it go, he cannot recall his move." Accordingly, the London Club never attempted to contest the question of right. They stated that they had "no hesitation in acceding to the Edinburgh Committee's construction," and adhering to the moves. In fact, the construction put on the point by the Edinburgh Club was not only assented to by the London players at the time, but several members of the committee admitted afterwards, that it was unquestionably the right way of dealing with the case, and no member of the London Club ever hinted a complaint on the subject, except what was insinuated by Mr Lewis in the publication referred to.

Were the Edinburgh Club "to blame" for not granting the favour which was asked of them? On this question we think there is quite as little doubt as the other. We have a strong and decided opinion as to the necessity of strict play inallgames. It is the only fair and rational system; for once allow indulgence, and it is impossible to fix the limit at which it should stop. But we think that the remark applies with peculiar force to the game of chess, in which rigour isabsolutely essential to the acquisition of the habits fitted for the proper playing of the game. Above all, in an important match at chess, anything but the strict game is entirely out of the question. A high-spirited antagonist will scorn to ask a favour, or even to grumble about the commission of a blunder. He submits in silence, and plays on in the hope of retrieving his fault by redoubled care and attention. If, on the other hand, he were to be expected to grant favours to his blundering antagonist, it is plain that his very good qualities would be turned to his disadvantage in the match. The Edinburgh Club played in the belief that the rules of the game were to apply with equal strictness to both parties; and though there was more than one instance in which they would have been glad to recall a move, they never proposed this, or even spoke of the occasions for it, except in answer to Mr Lewis's observations on the proposed recall of the 27th move. In the very game in which this move was made, the Edinburgh committee had at apreviouspoint in the game made a move which they discovered to be unsound, or at least doubtful. Their report bears that "application was made to the Post-office to have the letter containing it restored, but without effect. Finding this to be the case, the letter was looked upon as delivered, the Post-office being regarded as holding it, not on behalf of the Club from which it had been sent, but on behalf of the Club to which it was addressed; and therefore no attempt was made to countermand the move, by transmitting another letter by the same post. The 8th article of the laws was considered to be too clear and explicit to warrant a recall." This conduct of the Edinburgh Club appears to us the manly and proper way of dealing with such a circumstance, and infinitely better than trying to make it the foundation of a complaint of rigorous procedure on the part of their opponents.

The same thing happened again to the Edinburgh Club in the fourth game. In consequence of having put up the game erroneously, they sent an impossible move—that is to say, they directed a Knight to be moved to a square already occupied by their King. They discovered the mistake before the letter had left Edinburgh, but considered themselves as having incurred the penalty of playing an impossible move, which was, in the option of their adversary, either to move the Knight to some other square, or to move their King. Of these two, the move of theKingwas infinitely the better play, and therefore, in order to save time, a note was written on the outside of the letter explaining the mistake, and stating that the Edinburgh committee held themselves bound to move theKnight, which it was presumed the London Club would enforce, as the more severe penalty. The London Club did so; and yet Mr Lewis, in his notes to this game, rather disingenuously, as it appears to us, represented the London Club as having yielded an advantage to their antagonists, in accepting the move of the Knight. This merely accidental blunder, on the part of the Edinburgh Club, was one cause of their loss of the fourth game.

Seeing that the Edinburgh Club thus on all occasions subjected themselves to the most rigorous interpretation of the rules of the game, we cannot hold theQuarterly Reviewas justified in saying that they were "to blame" in not allowing the London Club to retract a move. But we appeal from theQuarterlyreviewer as a partisan of England, to theQuarterlyreviewer, as an impartial enunciator of general propositions respecting the game of chess. Hear what he says about the absurdity of giving back moves:—

"Another advantage has arisen from the multiplication of clubs, and consequent publication of accurate rules—viz., that the strict game is now played, instead of those courteous surrenders of advantages offered by a heedless adversary, which used often to make winners of those who had received back two or three leading pieces in the course of the game. These were a source of endless unpleasant discussions, besides being in themselves an absurdity. We confess we have no notion of rewarding an opponent for his oversights. We would show him as little mercy as Mr Smith O'Brien would to Lord Clarendon. Nay, we should be moved hereto by a considerationof his benefit as well as our own—for why should we teach him vacillation and heedlessness?"

Again, among a portentous list of narrow-minded delusions, he gives as "Delusion the Fifth—

"'That it is illiberal to play the strict game.' To this we can only reply, that other methods are but a miserable imitation. People talk of the hardship of 'losing a game by an oversight,' and so on. It is much harder to arrive at nothing but 'conclusions inconclusive,' and to have the game terminate in an Irish discussion which of the two parties made the greatest blunders."

We agree in every word of this; and we only wonder that so sound a reasoner should himself fall under the delusion which he exposes—so severe a censor should commit the very offence which he condemns.

On the whole, as regards the proposed recall of the 27th and 28th moves of the second game, we think these three propositions are conclusively established, 1. That neither according to the rules of the game, nor upon any other principle which does or ought to regulate the playing of matches, were the London Club entitled to have their proposal acceded to. 2. That though it had been acceded to, and these moves had been allowed to be recalled, the London Club could not have bettered their situation, as the opportunity of winning was already irretrievably lost in consequence of the 26th move, which was not asked to be recalled, but, on the contrary, was expressly adhered to. 3. That the impression which English chess-players have so industriously attempted to create, that the refusal on the part of Edinburgh to allow the 27th and 28th moves to be recalled was what prevented the London Club from winning the game, can only exist through a confusion between these moves and the previous one, which the London Club had adhered to after a renewed examination, not having even then discovered that it was unsound.

Before leaving the second game, we have this last additional remark to make about it, that it is one of the erroneous assumptions and inferences of the English writers, that the winning of that game would have decided the match in their favour. It was the first won game; and though it is true that the London Clubsubsequentlywon the fourth game, which was the successor of the second, it is also the fact that the fourth game, which was opened by the Edinburgh Club, would not have been played if the second had been won by London, who in that case would have had the opening of the fourth. We do not mean to say that having to open was a disadvantage. All we assert is, that, in point of fact, the game, which the Edinburgh Club lost partly through a mistake in setting up the men, and through another blunder, not very different in its character, would not have been played at all if London had won the second game. Besides, the fourth game would, in other respects, have been played under very different circumstances. The opening of the second game by the London Club was one which none of the Edinburgh players had ever seen before, though, from this match, it now goes by the name of the Scotch opening. They believed, however, from their consideration of the second game, that the London Club had not availed themselves of all the capabilities of the opening, and they thought it would be a spirited thing to return it upon their antagonists. This they did in thethirdgame. The event rewarded their enterprising conduct. They gained a decided advantage; and during the greater part of thefourthgame they believed that it would never require to be finished, as they thought that by winning thethirdgame they would gain the match. This accounts for the carelessness with which they played the fourth game, though we think nothing can excuse carelessness in playing chess. They were ultimately disappointed in their expectation of gaining the third game, as the London Club succeeded in drawing it; and this rendered a fifth game necessary.

Down to the fifth game it appears plain enough, from the above examination, that the Edinburgh Club had maintained, at the very least, an equal position to their antagonists. The first game had been drawn, with no advantage at any stage of it, in favour of either party. The second had been won by Edinburgh, but wassubject to the observation that, at one point, London might have won had they played as well as theyafterwardsdiscovered they might have done. The third game was drawn: but the advantage throughout had been in favour of Edinburgh, though not sufficiently so for winning; and, as was the case with London in the previous game, Edinburgh failed to perceive that by moving differently at a certain point, they would have been victorious. The fourth game was lost by Edinburgh, partly through an accidental and what may be called a mechanical blunder, and partly through another piece of carelessness of a similar character. After a contest thus maintained down to the commencement of the fifth game, it is beyond all question that the palm of superiority, in point of play, must rest with the victor in that game. And it was a game worthy to determine that question as well as the match. The Edinburgh Club had again returned upon their antagonists their own opening. In order to secure scope for the action of their pieces, they showed considerable intrepidity in disregarding the ordinary rules against doubled and isolated pawns; and so admirably had they analysed the game, that for a great many moves they knew that victory was certain, though all the while the London Club, according to the confession of some of their own members, were blind to the fate that was awaiting them; and believed, on the contrary, that the game was in their own hands. This fifth game will long be remembered by chess players as one of the most remarkable in the annals of chess; and appears to us conclusive, so far as regards the internal evidence derived from the games themselves, that the superiority, in point of play, lay with the Edinburgh Club, and that their winning the match was not a mere accident.

It may be that there are other data for determining the relative superiority of the two Clubs; but we cannot admit the correctness of any of those mentioned by theQuarterlyreviewer or Mr Staunton. It is true, as these gentlemen say, that the Edinburgh Club was comparatively inexperienced. It had only been instituted in 1822, and the match was begun in 1824. It comprehended, almost exclusively, professional gentlemen actively engaged in business, who had not, generally speaking, much leisure or opportunity for seeking antagonists out of their own little circle of chess-players at home. On the other hand, it cannot be disputed that there is to be found in the metropolis of England, in greater abundance than anywhere else, that combination of leisure with intellectual power, which gives the promise of good chess-playing. But these circumstances do not lead our minds to the conclusion to which Mr Staunton and theQuarterlyreviewer have come, that the winning of the match by the Edinburgh Club was an accident. We should rather be inclined to hold, considering the character of the contest as explained by us above, that they are a proof of the greater natural chess-playing capacity of the members of the Club which won the match under such disadvantages. Again, Mr Staunton asks where are the previous exploits to which the Edinburgh players could point, such as those that the members of the London Club had performed? The answer is, None. They never had, and never sought the opportunity of performing any great chess exploit, except beating the London Club. But in so doing they made their own all the previous victories of the London Club. The event showed that they might, without presumption, have expressed the sentiment of Prince Henry—

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