ardour of the adventurers who had enlisted with so much zeal; so that some broke their engagement and retired.

" In the mean time William, in order to check a disposition so fatal to his projects, had the dead buried secretly, and increased the supply of victuals and strong liquors. But the same thoughts of regret and discouragement still recurred. Very

· foolish,' said the soldiers, 'very foolish is the man who pretends to conquer another's land! God is offended at such designs, and now he shows his anger by refusing us a favourable wind ! At last, perhaps from real superstition, perhaps for the mere purpose of distracting their followers from unwelcome thoughts, the Norman chiess conducted the relics of St. Valery in great pomp, and with a long procession, through the camp. All the army began to pray; and the following night the fleet had the wind they wished for.

“And now, four hundred ships, with large sails, and upwards of one thousand boats of transport, started from the shore at the same signal. The vessel of William took the lead, and he carried at his mast's head the banner sent from the pope, and a cross upon his flag. The sails were of divers colours, and in many parts of them were painted the three lions, the arms of the Normans; and at the prow was carved the face of a child carrying a bent bow with an arrow ready to fly forth.

This vessel, a better sailer than the rest, headed the expedition during the day, and at night was far in the advance. On the following morning the duke bade a sailor climb to the top of the main mast and see if there were any other vessel coming. • I only see,' said the sailor, 'the sky and the sea,'—and thereupon

the anchor was cast. “ The duke affected a gaiety that was to put down any appearance of care or fear among his friends, and he ordered a sumptuous repast and wines highly spiced. Anon, the sailor mounted again; and this time he said he saw four vessels, and presently afterwards he cried, “I see a forest of masts and sails.'

“Now, while this great armament was preparing in Normandy, Harold, the Norwegian, faithful to his engagements toward the Saxon Tostig, had assembled his soldiers and some hundreds of vessels of war and transports. The fleet remained some time at anchor, and the Norwegian army, awaiting the signal for departure, encamped on the coast, as the Norman army had encamped at the mouth of the Dive.

“ There, also, vague impressions of discouragement and inquietude manifested themselves, and under appearances yet more gloomy and conformable with the visionary imagination of the north. Many soldiers thought that they received prophetic revelations in their sleep. One imagined that he saw his companions debarking on the English coast, and in presence of the English army; and that before the front of that army a woman of gigantic stature gallopeda wolf for her steed. The wolf held in its jaws a human corpse dripping with blood, and as the wolf devoured one corpse the woman gave it another,

“ A second soldier dreamed that the fleet was departing, and that a cloud of ravens, and vultures, and other birds of prey, settled upon the masts; and that on a neighbouring rock sat a female, holding a naked sword, counting and regarding the ships. Go,' said she to the birds; “Go without fear-you will have to feast-you will have to choose—for I go with them-I go there.

there. And his followers remarked, not without error, that when Harold put his foot upon the royal chaloupe, the weight of his body pressed it down into the water more than usual."

6

Here is a picture where the skill of the artist is conspicuous in the ease of his work.

In these two or three pages you find almost every thing which could be told you, characteristic of the time described. You learn the nature of the Norman troops, the manner in which they enrolled, the hopes which they entertained, the very arms with which they fought; their restlessness, and their superstition. And by the side of the Normans come yet more darkly out the savage and mysterious dispositions of the Norwegian bands: and

you see at once that William was a great commander, and a valiant and crafty man. A child, who read the passage I have cited, would be impressed with all these facts; and yet there has been no laying down the law, no teaching, no prosing, no explaining.

And now let us turn from this eloquent description of the

feudal time, to the awsul narrative of our own. Let us take up

M. Thiers !* For the somewhat solemn and chivalric gravity which suited the chronicles of the olden day, you have the vivid colouring, the rush of thought and style, the glow and flash of expression, which, startling at every step, carries you with an appropriate pace over thrones, and over constitutions, and over the mangled bodies of noble and mistaken men, down the fiery and precipitous path of a revolution destined to destroy. And here you see Mirabeau “terrible in the ugliness of his genius,”+ hesitating (his great brow labouring with his idea), and then bursting on to the expression that he sought, his words falling like a torrent, from chasm to chasm-violent, irresistible, abrupt. And here you see the gigantic Danton, at the head of the dark multitude which stormed the Tuileries on the 10th of August, waving that terrible and daring hand, a fatal signal to the proscribed! And, lo! Marat, hid during the attack in some obscure retreat, has came out since the victory, and marches, flourishing a sabre, through the town, at the head of the fierce Marseillians, while the neat and respectablelooking' Robespierre delivers to the Jacobins' one of his

doctoral harangues.' I hardly know any passage in history more powerful than that in vol. iii. page 53, which begins“ La terreur régnait dans Paris . .

It is not eloquent in point of diction. The narrative of those dreadful days, which Danton commenced by the declaration, “ qu'il fallait faire peur aux Royalistes,” is told in the simplest and least pretending manner; but, from the moment that these words have passed that terrible man's lips, a kind of mysterious horror breathes over the page : you feel that something

: sickening is to come : sentence after sentence this sensation grows upon you, and the object on which your apprehensions are to rest is now gradually and artfully pointed out:-Madame Fausse Landry entreats to be permitted to share the captivity of her uncle, “the Abbé de Rastignac," and Sergent answers her by saying—“Vous faites une imprudence; les prisons ne sont pas súres.” Then comes the declaration of Danton, the day after—“The cannon you are about to hear is not the * La Revolution Française.

some time at anchor, and the Norwegian army, awaiting the signal for departure, encamped on the coast, as the Norman army had encamped at the mouth of the Dive.

“ There, also, vague impressions of discouragement and inquietude manifested themselves, and under appearances yet more gloomy and conformable with the visionary imagination of the north. Many soldiers thought that they received prophetic revelations in their sleep. One imagined that he saw his companions debarking on the English coast, and in presence of the English army; and that before the front of that army a woman of gigantic stature galloped—a wolf for her steed. The wolf held in its jaws a human corpse dripping with blood, and as the wolf devoured one corpse the woman gave it another.

second soldier dreamed that the fleet was departing, and that a cloud of ravens, and vultures, and other birds of prey, settled upon the masts; and that on a neighbouring rock sat a female, holding a naked sword, counting and regarding the ships. "Go,' said she to the birds; “Go without fear-you will have to feast-you will have to choose--for I go with them-I go there.' And his followers remarked, not without

error, that when Harold put his foot upon the royal chaloupe, the weight of his body pressed it down into the water more than usual."

6

Here is a picture where the skill of the artist is conspicuous in the ease of his work.

In these two or three pages you find almost every thing which could be told you, characteristic of the time described, You learn the nature of the Norman troops, the manner in which they enrolled, the hopes which they entertained, the very arms with which they fought; their restlessness, and their superstition. And by the side of the Normans come yet more darkly out the savage and mysterious dispositions of the Norwegian bands: and you see at once that William was a great commander, and a valiant and crafty man. A child, who read the passage I have cited, would be impressed with all these facts; and yet there has been no laying down the law, no teaching, no prosing, no explaining.

And now let us turn from this eloquent description of the

a

feudal time, to the awful narrative of our own. Let us take up M. Thiers !*

For the somewhat solemn and chivalric gravity which suited the chronicles of the olden day, you have the vivid colouring, the rush of thought and style, the glow and flash of expression, which, startling at every step, carries you with an appropriate pace over thrones, and over constitutions, and over the mangled bodies of noble and mistaken men, down the fiery and precipitous path of a revolution destined to destroy. And here you see Mirabeau “terrible in the ugliness of his genius,”+ hesitating (his great brow labouring with his idea), and then bursting on to the expression that he sought, his words falling like a torrent, from chasm to chasm-violent, irresistible, abrupt. And here you see the gigantic Danton, at the head of the dark multitude which stormed the Tuileries on the 10th of August, waving that terrible and daring hand, a fatal signal to the proscribed! And, lo! Marat, hid during the attack in some obscure retreat, has came out since the victory, and marches, flourishing a sabre, through the town, at the head of the fierce Marseillians, while the neat and respectablelooking' Robespierre delivers to the Jacobins' one of his • doctoral harangues.' I hardly know any passage in history more powerful than that in vol. iii. page 53, which begins“ La terreur régnait dans Paris

It is not eloquent in point of diction. The narrative of those dreadful days, which Danton commenced by the declaration, “qu'il fallait faire peur aux Royalistes," is told in the simplest and least pretending manner; but, from the moment that these words have passed that terrible man's lips, a kind of mysterious horror breathes over the page : you feel that something sickening is to come : sentence after sentence this sensation grows upon you, and the object on which your apprehensions are to rest is now gradually and artfully pointed out:-Madame Fausse Landry entreats to be permitted to share the captivity of her uncle, “the Abbé de Rastignac,” and Sergent answers her by saying—“ Vous faites une imprudence; les prisons ne sont pas sûres.” Then comes the declaration of Danton, the day after—“The cannon you are about to hear is not the * La Revolution Française.