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six years of plunder and cruelty, during which he appears to have twice surrendered himself to justice, under proclamations of pardon, but was both times unaccountably suffered to escape again to the woods. It is reproachful to the government of the colony to think that it was after the second of these flights from justice, or at least from confinement, that he committed the murder of the two men who had, as they thought, secured him. By this means he again escaped, to be shot at last by a private soldier of the 48th regiment and another man; for so desperate was this villain, that he was only to be taken dead, and by stratagem. Howe was without a spark of even the honour of an outlaw; he betrayed his colleagues upon surrendering himself to government, and he fired upon the native girl, his companion, when she became an impediment to his flight. He was reduced at last to abandonment, even by his own gang; and 100 guineas, and (if a convict should take him) a free pardon and a passage to England, were set upon his head. He was now a wretched, conscience-haunted solitary, hiding in dingles, and only tracked by the sagacity of the native girl, to whom he had behaved so ungratefully, and who was now employed by the police to revenge his cruelty to her. His arms, ammunition, dogs and knapsack were first taken from him; and in the last was found a little memorandum-book of kangaroo skin, written by himself in kangaroo blood. It contained a sort of journal of his dreams, which shewed strongly the wretched state of his mind, and some tincture of superstition. It appears that he frequently dreamt of being murdered by natives, of seeing his old companions, of being nearly taken by a soldier; and in one instance only, humanity asserts itself even in the breast of Michael Howe, for we find him recording that he dreamt of his sister. It also appears from this little book, that he had once an idea of settling in the woods; for it contains long lists of such seeds as he wished to have, vegetables, fruits, and even flowers!
We are happy to hear that these bush-rangers are at length exterminated. They were a heavy drawback upon the industry of a young colony; and settlers were fain to pay them black-mail as a composition for escape from worse plunder. It was more than conjectured in Van Diemen's Land that these freebooters could not have maintained themselves so long, had not they found abettors, concealers, and receivers of their spoils. They would lift a flock of sheep from one farmer and turn it into the pasture of another, marking the animals as his; and the destruction of this staple stock of the colony was immense, for the outlaws were often compelled to secrete themselves in recesses till a score of sheep (sometimes their only fare) was devoured or wasted by them.
We repeat our hope that this narrative (which by the way might have been drawn up with more plainness and simplicity) will be hereafter as merely a matter of curious history in Van Diemen's Land, as it is in this country; and we desire to see the next literary production of the Hobart Town press more pleasing in the manner, and less tragical in the matter. It is natural that the early literature of such a colony should consist of last dying speeches and confessions; but even such literature is better than none; and we understand that Hobart Town now publishes a weekly Gazette, and that the government, whose organ it is, is administered by a man of talent and reading.
ART. III.-Voyage dans le Levant en 1817 et 1818. Tome I. Large folio. Par le Comte de Forbin. Paris.
THE precise object of the Count de Forbin's 'Voyage dans le
Levant' is not quite apparent from its fruits.-It may have been undertaken with the view of enabling the ' Director General of Museums' to exhibit his talent as an artist in seventy or eighty indifferent specimens of lithography, of which half-a-dozen of the worst bear his name;—or to gratify his royal patron Louis XVIII., by presenting to him a volume equal at least in dimensions to the Grand Livre' on Egypt, which the Savans of the Institute laid at the feet of Napoleon Buonaparte:-for the purpose of collecting information, it could hardly have been undertaken; for it literally contains none. It would be equally difficult to discover on what grounds an old and meritorious servant, who, like Denon, had distinguished himself by his knowledge of antiquities, by his taste and execution in the fine arts, and by his zeal for their promotion among his countrymen, was dismissed to make room for the present Apollo of the Museum, who has not the good fortune to be gifted with science, art, or taste, or even with the semblance of zeal or respect for any of them.
If we did not happen to know Count Forbin to be the most dapper and the best dressed gentleman in all Paris,―the very dandy of the Museum, we should not have failed to suspect as much from a hint modestly conveyed to us in the opening of his work:-so greatly, it seems, is he recherché in Paris, that he was afraid to give the least intimation of the difficult and hazardous enterprize' he was about to undertake, lest he should find himself unable to resist the remonstrances of his friends, or to tear himself away from their embraces.
When the important day arrived on which our daring adventurer was to confide his destiny to chance,' he set off (secretly, of course) for Marseilles; and having collected into his train a skilful architect,
architect, a celebrated panoramist, an aspiring artist, and a clerical cousin, embarked with them on board the Cleopatra frigate, one of the squadron destined for the Levant. They left Toulon on the 21st of August, and fell in with the coast of Africa on the 25th. On the 2d September they reached Milo, where our traveller, for his coup d'essai, scrambled to the top of a mountain which he calls Macrouticho, (Mauroteiché, we presume,) and, from the door of a solitary monastery inhabited by one poor Greek priest, enjoyed, he says, a magnificent view of the whole Grecian archipelago,tout l'archipel de la Grèce:'-and as extensive, we may add, as magnificent,' since it embraced a circuit of about 450 English miles!
He was now transferred to the Hazard brig, bound to Athens, where he arrived on the 5th September. We know not what portion of the fortnight which our author passed here, he dedicated to the examination of the remains of antiquity in the city of Minerva, as he terms it; nor to what specific description of them his attention was principally directed: but if he gives us little information on these points, we have at least no reason to complain of a want of vapid declamation and mawkish sentiment, or, as he is pleased to call it, ' rêverie;' of which the following may serve as a speci
'It was my frequent custom to walk out at night, because the hour of darkness seemed to put me in communication with the past. It is then that the imagination without effort reaches the most splendid edifices; and the dubious light of the moon aids these magnificent resurrections. I peopled the porticoes and the public places with illustrious shades; I agitated the multitude by the uncertainty of a defeat or a triumph; the temples opened, and I fancied that I heard the warlike spirits of the citizens; the impassioned accents of the orators, and the tumult of a free people, jealous of their glory, devoting to the infernal deities all the enemies of their independence.' (p. 14.)
He was not, however, so entirely engrossed by these sublime speculations, but that he found leisure (besides assisting at a number of weddings, dances, &c.) to fill his portfolio; and we have no doubt that, when the other elephantine volume (with which we are to be favoured) shall be launched, he will be ready to say, as one of his countrymen did to a gentleman about to set out on his travels into Egypt, Attendez, Monsieur,'-laying his hand on the great book of the Savans of the Institute, il n'y a rien à faire, il n'y a rien à voir, soyez tranquille, ici vous trouverez tout:'-there is nothing to see, nothing to do, make yourself easy, here you will find every thing!
Our readers already know that Lord Elgin (following the example of the French) removed several of the decaying metopes from
the Temple of Minerva; leaving, as it appears, no more than twenty-eight behind him, one of which only was in a tolerable state of preservation. This was sufficiently vexatious.-But the Count has his revenge; and grows quite brilliant at his lordship's expense. 'A l'époque de l'expédition de Lord Elgin, on remplaça, par un pilier de maçonnerie, la Cariatide de l'angle de la Chapelle de Pandrose; cette statue qu'il emporta était la mieux, conservée. On écrivit sur la plus voisine, Opus Phidia; et sur le pilier informe, Opus Elgin.'-(p. 11.)
This would have been fair enough; but unluckily it is not true: -the inscription on the first pillar (which the Count could not read) is in Greek,— Exywv éπoinσe'; that on the other, (which the Count could not see,) is in Latin
6 Quod non fecerunt Goti
Hoc fecerunt Scoti.'
But though we may indulge a smile at this facetious sally on Lord Elgin, we cannot extend our complaisance quite so far as to humour the Director General of Museums in the effusion of his spleen against a most industrious and meritorious body of artists, to whose labours we are indebted for the best models in ancient art which time has spared to us.
'J'y trouvai aussi plusieurs artistes Anglais ou Allemands, dessinant, mesurant, depuis plusieurs années, avec l'exactitude minutieuse des commentateurs les plus scrupuleux, ces monumens, noble création du génie. Esclaves malheureux des règles, des moindres caprices des anciens, ils écrivent des volumes pour relever une erreur de trois lignes commise en 1680, sur la mesure d'une architrave; ils s'appesantissent, s'endorment, et demeurent huit ans à Athènes pour dessiner trois colonnes.' (p. 13.)
We can easily believe that this spruce Frenchman and his companions would have carried away in their portfolios, not only the three columns,' but all Athens, nay, all Greece, in one-third of the time that these unhappy slaves, of rules' have been 'poring and dosing, and lingering over their labours:' but then, these labours will bear to be examined and compared with the originals; and when they come to be submitted to public inspection, it will not be found that the authors of them, whether English or German, have represented black for white, blue for yellow, red for green, round for square, a land tortoise for a river-horse, or the inverted heads of goats for cherubs on the wing to the abodes of bliss!* Nor will the members of the Institutes or Academies of their respective countries, who may have vouched for their accuracy, need to blush at having imposed on the world their idle conceits and misrepre
Quarterly Review, No. XXXVIII. page 240.
sentations, as 'faithful copies of ancient art, carefully traced and ac curately coloured from the originals.'
The vanity and self-sufficiency of the Count are mortified beyond measure by the popularity of the English; and his imagination is perpetually haunted by the idea of their intruding themselves into every corner of the East. He is equally offended at the snail-paced diligence of one set of our countrymen, and at the rapidity with which another set are whirled round the world; des Anglais riches, dont l'affaire importante était de traverser la Grèce le plus promptement possible.' (p. 13.) We suspect however that it would be difficult to find any rich Englishman' travelling with greater celerity, or passing the most interesting objects with greater indifference, than the Count himself. It will hardly be credited that this virtuoso, who presides over the paintings, the statuary, and the vast collection of antiquities in the great city of Paris, who travelled with all the pomp and parade of artists and savans in his train, had not the curiosity to go a few miles out of his way to visit the plains of Marathon, the strait of Thermopyla, or the ruins of Corinth!-that when he quitted the city of Minerva,' (to which his researches were confined,) for Constantinople, he blest the favourable south-west breeze which hurried him past the shores of the Troad!—and that he flew from Constantinople to Smyrna, and from Smyrna to St. Jean d'Acre, without attempting to land on a single island of that archipelago which his comprehensive vision had taken in at a glance, or without visiting one spot of classical renown, with the solitary exception of Ephesus!
It was a fine day (it is generally so in September) when the Count arrived at Constantinople, and his eyes were dazzled with the view; the passage-boats were skimming the surface of the water, the domes of the mosques and the gilded shafts of the minarets were illumined with the sun's rays; and no Englishman as yet had crossed his path to disturb his enjoyment of the grand prospect. His heart began to sink, however, when he heard that the plague was raging, and had found its way into the corps. diplomatique; and the impossibility of passing the narrow and slippery streets of Constantinople without coming in contact with the end of a shawl, or the loose robe or caftan,' was not calculated to allay the agitation of his nerves.
Other troubles assailed him in this great city. Every where the Turks elbowed him, the Jews bowed the head to him, the Greeks grinned at him, the Armenians cheated him, (p. 46.) the dogs barked at him, the pigeons alighted on his shoulders, (this requires confirmation, as his countrymen say,) and while some light-heeled groups were dancing around him, others were dying in agonies; and thus he constantly found himself surrounded with mirth and