Chapter VI: Front Matter (6)

The author of the following remarks on ART-UNIONS, is an eminent artist, whose name has never been associated with any discussions of these Institutions, or with any controversies connected with them, and he has not, we believe, since the foundation of the first Art-Union in America, had any production of his own in the market.

ART-UNIONS: THEIR TRUE CHARACTER CONSIDERED.

ART-UNIONS, and their management, have recently attracted much attention in this country, if we may judge from the numerous articles on the subject which have appeared in some of the most reputable journals. It is now about ten years since the first Art-Union was established in this city. Others, in various sections, have followed, and all, whatever their peculiarities, have been more or less successful in their chief objects.

Now it is reasonable to suppose, that the result of these ten years' efforts to promote the cultivation of the Fine Arts among us, should furnish some evidence of their capabilities for the accomplishment of so worthy and so great a work. The whole subject of their usefulness resolves itself into the following queries:

I. Has any person of decided genius, who was unknown, friendless, and in need, been sought out by them, assisted, encouraged, and at last added to the effective number of artists who are profitably employed among us?

II. Have those artists who have received the larger share of the patronage of these institutions, shown by their works a corresponding advance in the knowledge and love of excellence and truth in art?

III. Have they furnished any peculiar advantages to artists, as a body, by supplying the means of their improvement, in a free access to books, casts, pictures, or good engravings?

IV. Do Art-Unions promote the interests and reward the labors of those who are most eminently deserving?

V. Do they elevate the pursuit of art, in the minds of the people, and teach them its value, by distributing to them, in return for their subscriptions, _only_ the best specimens which they can purchase from the studios of our artists?

VI. Are there a dozen well known artists who will openly testify to a conviction of their usefulness?

It is believed by many that an affirmative response cannot be given to these questions; and if not, then the subject of their influence need be no longer discussed.

It is not my intention, nor my desire, to inquire into the _management_ of these institutions. It is only at the system itself that I wish to direct the attention of the reader. If it is proved that, as a system, this is not calculated to elevate and enlarge the sphere of the arts, but on the contrary, that its tendency is to degrade and stifle all that is lovely and desirable in their pursuit, then there will be no need of troubling ourselves with the lower and baser subject of management; for there is no bad system, which, by any method, can be managed into a good one, and satisfy the just demands of those whose interests it professes to hold in its keeping.

Numbers rather than quality seem to govern the Art-Unions in their purchases of works, that they may give to subscribers a greater number of _chances_ to draw something for their money, and thus encourage them to future _patronage_. This is the principle on which all lotteries live: and when we come to sift the matter to the bottom, we cannot but acknowledge that Art-Unions are nothing else but lotteries, under another and more popular name. Both exist ostensibly for the good of others, who in reality are but the dupes of a most deceitful and vicious system, against which every good citizen should indignantly turn his face. It cannot be justly said in defence of Art-Unions, that they spend more money for art than was ever done in the same period of time, nor that they have distributed works amongst a class of people who never thought of giving money for such things before. They must first prove that this great amount of money which they have collected, has been spent _judiciously_, for the benefit of deserving and meritorious artists, and that the works distributed are such as to elevate the judgment and enlarge the feelings in relation to art, among those who may have received them.

It is for the interest of lotteries to offer some very large and valuable prizes at the head of their list, to attract the attention of the public, and thus to sell their tickets.

Similar means are adopted by Art-Unions to increase their subscription lists, which show that the system is _managed_ in the most efficient manner. Those who can look back fifteen and twenty years, will remember that our country was literally flooded with the bulletin boards of lotteries, printed in the most gaudy and attractive colors, showing a brilliant schedule of prizes, and pledging almost certain wealth to all who would venture their money on the "grand scheme." They will also call to mind how many a victim there was to this deceptive and depraved system of legal fraud, until it became so injurious to the public morals, that Legislatures were forced to hurl the bolts of the law against them, in all parts of the United States, and so put an end to their iniquity. Lotteries have been justly prohibited by wise governments, because they attract men from legitimate pursuits, into the speculative, uncertain, and, morally, illegitimate pursuit of fortune. The case is similar in its results to that of Art-Unions. They attract many from a calling for which their talents have fitted them, into a sphere so much above their natural powers, that they must in time fall back, victims to vanity and love of gain, into a lower plane of life perhaps, than that they once happily occupied. The effect of these Unions is seen rather in the great number of persons of mediocre abilities they have _encouraged_ to enter upon the cultivation of art, than in the bringing forth greater powers and excellence in those whose undoubted genius is apparent to the world.

It was remarked by Carlyle, that our modern intellect is of the spavined kind, "all action and no go;" and so it appears to be in regard to the efforts that are being made to "promote the interests of art," in this country. Art-Unions have been active enough, for many years, and have possessed themselves of hundreds of thousands of dollars, and yet it is "no go;" the interests of art still lie gasping, without much hope of a change for the better. There is a great display made every year in the "distribution of prizes," and every means used to gain public confidence, by holding up the names of the most respectable citizens as guarantees that nothing under their control can go wrong; and by issuing bulletins in which is proved, by figures, the flourishing state of the institution, and consequently of the beautiful arts; yet in spite of all this, the great mass of common-sense minds and of true lovers of art, heretics that they are, go away and exclaim, "Well, after all it's 'no go,' the works distributed are no better than those of last year, and we are really afraid there are no hopes for the arts in this country, so long as no other plan is adopted for their improvement."

Some of the petty states in Germany and in southern Europe obtain a large revenue from lotteries, which are entirely under the control of the crown, and are hence commonly called "Royal," or "Imperial." The prizes are comparatively small, but the tickets are fixed at such a very low sum, say from ten to twenty cents, that they come within the reach of the poorest inhabitants. The consequence is that nearly all persons who are ignorant of the scheme which the Government has laid to tax them, spend more or less every year for lottery tickets. We have known persons who, under the excitement produced by these plans for rapidly gaining fortunes, have pawned the last blanket from their beds, to obtain the means of purchasing a ticket. At every drawing of these "Imperial" lotteries, there is nothing left undone by Royalty to strike the people with a sense of their importance, and the honesty with which they are conducted. In an open square is erected a kind of stage large enough to be occupied by some twenty persons. Rich canopies of scarlet and gold overhang it, and above all are figures of Justice, Plenty, Virtue, &c. &c. The "Royal" band of music is stationed near, and amidst its enlivening tones, holding in silence many thousands of anxious hearts, the cortege, preceded by Royalty itself, ascends, and is seated in the order of its dignity. In front of the throne are placed, upon pedestals, two large revolving globes half filled with tickets, and by the side of each stands a page, in magnificent costume, blindfolded. Then commences the distribution of the prizes, in the usual way, by drawing numbers from the globes, by the hands of the pages, which are announced from the throne, and so along to the ears of the most distant in the multitude. At intervals, the drawing ceases, while most charming music serves to keep the crowd together, and possibly to drive for the moment, from many a heart, the pangs of disappointment or despair. Now there is some excuse for ignorance on this subject, among those poor people, for there are no means by which they can be enlightened and warned of the evil. But in this country, where the press is free, and the means of information abundant, it would be sad to reflect that such things can, under any name or phrase, long continue unmasked and unshorn of their power.

There is consolation in the belief, that however prosperous this species of gaming may be, the time is not far distant when its true character and tendency will be made manifest; and when the unseen but certain operations of the moral sense of our people will put an end to its inglorious career; if not directly, through the action of the laws, yet indirectly, by withholding the necessary contributions to its further support.

This parallel between Art-Unions and Lotteries is drawn that the character of the former may be more readily comprehended by the reader.

In the recent drawing of the American Art-Union there were distributed _one thousand works of art_, making about one prize to sixteen blanks. But where did all these "thousand works" come from? and what are they? Have they all been executed by living American artists? Are they paintings, or sculptures, or engravings, purchased from the artists who made them, and who have received an adequate price for them? We know from their advertisement that _sixty_ of them are "impressions from the large engravings after Col. Trumbull's pictures of the _Battle of Bunker Hill_ and the _Death of Montgomery_." Now the purchase of these engravings from the pictures of a long deceased painter can be of no possible service to the painters living and laboring among us, nor to the progress of art in any way. As well might the Art-Union purchase for distribution sixty copies of Dunlap's History of the Arts of Design, or of Allston's Lectures on Art, or any object pertaining to the subject that may be procured at any time of the book or print sellers. It is true, they must manage to offer a number of small prizes, the best way they can, that they may in some plausible way meet the expectations of their very extended lists of subscribers, to which, it seems, they never attempt to set a limit. Here is another proof that they are mere speculators upon the labors of artists, and only seek to enlarge their subscriptions, and usurp a power and control over the great body of artists, which should never, with their consent, be allowed to any, no matter how respectable, body of men.

Let us turn to the "_Western Art-Union_." Having but few good prizes to offer, nothing indeed which would ensure them a large subscription list, it became necessary to procure some well known production for this purpose, as a capital prize. The managers therefore negotiated, in a very quiet manner, with a Mr. Robb, of New Orleans, for one of HIRAM POWERS'S finest statues, the "_Greek Slave_," then in the possession of Mr. Robb, and it was accordingly taken to Cincinnati, and placed on exhibition in the Art-Union, as one of the prizes to be distributed this year. Handbills were then sent over the United States announcing this fact. Of course, with such a celebrated work as this, thousands would be seduced to purchase a ticket, and thus place the _Art-Union_ in a most flourishing condition, and probably secure to it at least double the sum which it had paid, or the sculptor had originally received, for the statue.

Now let us consider this transaction in its true light. The Art-Union was established solely for the purpose of benefiting artists, protecting their interests, and increasing the knowledge of art among the people. From these facts it is evident that neither of these purposes were kept in view or carried out. Instead of negotiating with the sculptor himself for one of his works, and giving him a liberal price for it, they never mentioned the subject to him, but secretly purchased one of another person--a rich man, who was in nowise whatever connected with the arts.

One would have supposed that even if there were very strong inducements to such a procedure on the part of this institution, for the sake of gain, still that a friendly feeling towards the great sculptor, of whom the Queen City is so proud, and a due regard for his interests and his fame, would have prevented the consummation of such an act. It can be no pleasing reflection to Mr. Powers, that a work which many persons in Europe, as well as in America, would have purchased at any reasonable price, should, by any movement of his own townsmen, be disposed of at a public raffle, so that of its final destination he must long remain in ignorance.

It seems, from what has here been adduced, that Art-Unions have not proved of service to art or artists, notwithstanding the immense amount annually collected for this ostensible purpose; but that they are in reality only lotteries operating under another but less objectionable name.

If a corporation can be granted by the Legislature, with the privilege of selling pictures, or statuary, by lottery, every other branch of industry is as much entitled to such a privilege, or our laws are onesided and unjust. We would then see distributions of prizes from every quarter, until the whole mechanical and commercial interests of the country would be turned into Lotteries or Unions. Following the example of the Art-Union in this state, we have already advertised a "_Homestead Art-Union_," the grand prize of which is a "house and lot situated in Williamsburgh, which cost nearly $5,000." Subscribers are entitled to "an elegant and valuable engraving, which has heretofore sold at $7.50, (being $2.50 more than the price of subscription,) and superior in execution and elegance to any picture distributed in this manner." It has in its collection for distribution "ninety-nine elegant and costly oil paintings and engravings, richly framed in ornamental and plain gilt frames." All the difference between these Unions, seems to be in the fact that the "Homestead" has limited the number of tickets--certainly an improvement on the other, so far as the public interest is concerned. We may expect to hear very soon of _Bread and Meat Art-Unions_, when the whole community, for a very small outlay, may live like princes, and snap their fingers at haggard want.

The tendency of these hotbed methods of cultivating an appreciation of art and of rewarding its professors, has been to discourage artists from any suitable efforts to provide instruction, upon a liberal scale, to those who are seeking for it. Indeed it takes from them the power to do so, by drawing away funds necessary to such an object, which, but for these grand schemes, would be likely to come into their hands. One has but to observe the motives which induce persons to subscribe to an Art-Union, to be convinced that the great majority do so for the sake of self-aggrandizement, that is, to have a chance of getting the works of our best artists for a mere tithe of their value, or in the language of the advertisements, "of obtaining a valuable return, for a small investment;" as they would buy any other lottery tickets: to make the most out of their money. But there are many who subscribe from nobler motives--real lovers of art, whose only object is to lend a helping hand to its interests, and to show a generous sympathy in the struggles and self-denying endeavors of all whose souls are so wrapt up in its pursuit that they scarcely arrive at the knowledge requisite to a charge of their own pecuniary and worldly affairs. This latter class of subscribers believe they are gratifying this genuine love of the beautiful and good, when they give annually their five dollars to an institution chartered for the express design of protecting and cherishing the interests of art, and of enlarging the field of its labors and usefulness among the people. These genuine _patrons_ give, without a hope or thought of drawing a prize, or receiving in any shape a return for their subscriptions. Did they reflect upon, or know, that these funds were worse than misapplied, they would withhold them, and seek in some other way to make a proper appropriation of them.

We have said that these Art-Unions prevent artists from taking any steps to provide the means of instruction for those who need and seek it. As an illustration of this we may mention the present state of the _National Academy of Design_. It is, and has been for two or three years, quite prostrate for want of funds; its schools have been closed, and without assistance it must soon die. A few years ago it was in a flourishing state, and offered the advantages of study which their fine collection of casts from the best antique statues, and a small but well selected and growing library could afford to students. Such have been the results of Art-Unions upon schools of art everywhere. To be sure the members of the National Academy are not entirely free from censure in this matter, for many of them, smitten with the "Union" mania, gave it their countenance, and even something more substantial, to assist its infant struggles for popularity, little suspecting, certainly, that they were lending a club which would sooner or later strike them to the ground. It may not be out of place here to remark, that it is firmly believed that the Academy of Design can yet rise up from its ashes, and overthrow all such schemes as Art-Unions, by placing itself upon a more liberal and popular footing; and by disclaiming all exclusive titles as utterly unworthy the ambition of every sensible and right-feeling artist. Institutions in this country, to be useful, must be placed on a popular foundation; and to be popular, they must rest upon the broad republican principle of equal rights and equal privileges to all. Let the members of the Academy open their doors wide enough to admit all classes of artisans who desire to study the principles of design--the basis upon which the beauty and the saleability of their works mainly depends. There might then, in addition to the sections of Painting and Sculpture, be added those of Architecture, Ornamental Marble and Stone Workers, Carvers in Wood and Metal, Gold and Silver Smiths, Cabinet Makers, and indeed, as many other occupations as chose to unite themselves, in separate sections, for the purposes of mutual instruction in the Art of Design. This would at once be practical and popular, and with such objects in view, the Academy could with very little additional funds be put into immediate and successful operation, and become a highly honorable and most useful institution. These are mere suggestions, thrown out for the consideration of the members of the Academy and others interested. This is not the proper place to enlarge upon such a subject.

Artists must learn, if they do not know, how to control their own affairs, and if they are determined to succeed, they must not think of trusting their interests to the keeping of those not of their profession, and entirely uneducated in art, and who consequently cannot be qualified to discharge so delicate a duty with judgment and fidelity. It is an old saying, but very applicable to the present instance, that "if you neglect your own business, you need not expect others to attend to it for you." Let artists depend more upon private sales of their works to those who can appreciate them for a just remuneration, than upon the deceptive offers which chartered schemes may hold out to them. They will then, by their worth and their artistic merits, build up about them a solid body of friends and patrons, of whom nothing but death itself can rob them; and the number of whom time will but increase, until they may look forward with well-founded hopes to a peaceful and honorable old age, and a full reward for all their labors. They cannot justly suppose that permanent success and a distinguished name can be attained through any other channel than by honesty, and excellence in their works. Honors and rewards from private sources may be very laggard in their approach, but they must ultimately come--especially in this enlightened, progressive, and prosperous country--to those who have fairly earned them.

Recent Deaths.

Those who have been accustomed to visit the bookstore of Bartlett & Welford, under the Astor House, during the last half-dozen years, must have been familiar with the commanding figure and gentle but uneasy expression of our late excellent friend, the Rev. SERENO E. DWIGHT, D. D., who died in Philadelphia on the thirtieth of November, in the sixty-fourth year of his age. Dr. Dwight was born in Greenfield, Connecticut, in 1786, and was educated at Yale College, where he was graduated in 1803, being then about seventeen years of age. He became a tutor in the college, but soon abandoned this occupation to commence the study of the law at Burlington in Vermont, and in a few years he was admitted to practice in the highest courts of the country. An early and ever-increasing predilection, however, led him to the profession of his father, and upon completing his theological studies he was settled over the Park-street Congregational church, in Boston, where, he rapidly acquired the fame of being one of the ablest, most eloquent, and most useful divines in New-England.

He had contracted a cutaneous disease, from the injudicious use of calomel, while a tutor in Yale College; and its effects increased so much now, that his parishioners, who had become quite attached to him, in 1825 induced him to undertake a voyage to Europe. A year's travel, in Great Britain, Germany, France, and other countries, failed to restore his health, and soon after his return to the United States he resigned his charge of the Park-street church, and undertook the Presidency of Hamilton College, which in turn he was compelled to surrender, and in 1830 he opened, at New-Haven, an Academy, in which he was assisted by his wife, a daughter of the late Judge Daggett. The decline of Mrs. Dwight's health, and other circumstances, induced him to relinquish the business of teaching; he visited the Southern States, was during several sessions chaplain to the United States Senate, and, devoting himself to literature, wrote an elaborate memoir of his great-grandfather, Jonathan Edwards, and several works of less importance, one of which was "The Hebrew Wife," written to illustrate the Jewish laws of marriage, and published in New-York in 1836.

The death of his wife, and increasing physical infirmities, led him to adopt a habit of the utmost seclusion in New-York, where he passed nearly all the residue of his life. His last appearance in public was in the summer of 1848, when he consented to act with Mr. John R. Bartlett (now the chief of the Mexican Boundary Commission) and the writer of these paragraphs, as an examiner of one of the departments of the Rutgers Female Institute. He died suddenly, while upon a visit to Philadelphia for the purpose of trying the effect of the hydropathic treatment of his disease, on the 30th of September. In the _Home Journal_ of December 14, Mr. Willis says of him:--

"In the death of this excellent man we have lost a friend,
whose loss to ourself we most sincerely mourn, though the grave
was, to him, a welcome relief from an insufferable disease,
that had made life wretched for years. Mr. Dwight was the son
of Rev. Dr. Dwight, President of Yale College. He became pastor
of Park-st. church, in Boston, while we attended it in boyhood,
and it is our pride to record that we were so fortunate as to
secure his friendship at that time, and to retain it, in
undiminished warmth and kindness, to the day of his death. Mr.
Dwight was a man of qualities unusual in his profession. When
he first came to Boston, in perfect health, he was, in personal
appearance, the ideal of a high-souled and faultlessly elegant
gentleman--with more of manly and refined beauty, indeed, than
we remember to have combined in any other man. He wore these
winning gifts most unconsciously, being beloved by the humblest
for his open and accessible simplicity and kindness: and his
health first gave way under the laborious discharge of his
parochial duties. He was too severely critical and polished a
scholar to be either a very eloquent preacher or an easy
writer, but his sermons were models of purity of style, study,
and elevated thought, and his pastoral intercourse and counsel
were too delightful ever to be forgotten by those who enjoyed
it. Sent to Europe for his health, by his congregation, Mr.
Dwight was received and followed with a degree of enthusiastic
and flattering attention which fully confirmed his mark as a
man, and showed how Nature's noblemen are recognized and
honored everywhere. He resumed his duties on his return, but
was soon obliged by illness to relinquish them, and, from that
time forward, he was never again well. His weakness took the
shape of a cutaneous disease of the most irritating and
incurable form, and though he made one or two attempts at
re-commencing his usefulness, it was sadly in vain. He resided
secludedly in New-York during the latter years of his life,
giving to books and scholarship what mind he could withdraw
from pain, and, even thus, ready always with kindness and
delightful earnestness, to give counsel or sympathy to those he
loved. Mr. Dwight was a martyr to that great wrong of our
country toward all clergymen--to express it by a common saying,
"the working a free horse to death"--and we have only to look
at the pale faces, the stooping chests, and the slender frames
of most of our clerical men, to see how mind, patience,
attention, needful leisure and more needful sleep, are cruelly
overdrawn upon, by the service expected of them. But for his
share of suffering by this exacting system, Mr. Dwight might
have been, for years to come, the ornament and pride to his
country which his unequalled combination of fine gifts
qualified him to be; and we should not mourn, as we now do,
over his life embittered while it lasted, and sent to the grave
in what might have been its meridian of usefulness and
ornament."

* * * * *

COUNT BRANDENBURGH, the Prussian Prime Minister, died on the 6th November at Berlin. He was a natural brother of the late King of Prussia, being the illegitimate son of the present King's grandfather, by the Countess Doenhoff Frederichstein, and was acknowledged, educated, and admitted as such, by the Prussian Royal family, by whom he was invariably treated as a friend and relative, although not with royal honors. He was born on the 23d of January, 1792, and had nearly completed his 59th year. He was educated for the military profession and entered the service in 1807; his promotion continued regularly, and in 1812 he was a captain on the staff of General Von York, under whom he saw some service. In 1813 he became major, and in that rank took part in the numerous actions between the Prussian and the French armies, including the battles of Leipsic, and Bautzen, Brienne, Laon, and Paris. At the passage of the Rhine at Caub, Count Brandenburgh was the first who reached the French bank. For his good conduct at Mokern and Wartenburg, he received the Iron Cross of the first class. In 1814 he was made lieutenant-colonel. In 1816 he received the command of the regiment in which he first entered the service. From 1816 to 1846 he received various promotions, charges, and decorations. In 1848 he was made general in command of the 8th army corps. Up to this time he had taken no part in politics. The London _Times_ says:

"It was in the midst of those scenes of anarchy and violence
which, about two years ago, had shaken the Prussian monarchy to
its foundations--when a furious Assembly, beleaguered and
intimidated by a more furious mob, had usurped sovereign power
in the capital, and a democratic constitution was all but
grafted on the military throne of Frederic the Great,--that we
remember to have exclaimed, in the wonder and the dread of that
terrible period, "Will no one save the house of Hohenzollern?"
The state seemed to be on the brink of a cataract, and even the
leaders of the popular movement were ignorant of the dark and
stormy course before them. At that moment, it was announced one
morning, to the amazement of the Prussians and of Europe, that
an elderly gentleman, who had never taken any active part in
politics, but had lived in the most exclusive circles of the
aristocracy, and the Prussian Guards, was about to enter on the
task which the boldest men had found beyond their courage, and
the ablest beyond their capacity. But though he laid small
claim to skill in political tactics, or experience in the
administration of affairs, Count Brandenburgh brought to the
service of his sovereign precisely those plain qualities which
no one else appeared to possess. He had sense, he had firmness,
he absolutely contemned the storm of unpopularity which greeted
his appointment, and he proceeded to conduct the Government
with full confidence that, although his countrymen were
peculiarly subject to fits of enthusiasm, they respect nothing
so much in the long run as a clear will and definite authority.
After about fifteen months the citizens of Berlin hailed Count
Brandenburgh as the saviour of his country."

* * * * *

GEORGE GRENVILLE, LORD NUGENT, died on the 26th of November at Lillies, near Aylesbury, aged sixty-one. He was the second son of the Marquis of Rockingham, and inherited the Irish Barony of Nugent, on the death of his mother, in 1812. During the same year he was elected M. P. for Aylesbury, and continued to represent that borough on the Liberal interest, until 1832, when he was appointed Lord High Commissioner of the Ionian Isles. He held that office until 1836, when he returned to England. In 1847 he was re-elected for Aylesbury. He enjoyed a very fair literary reputation. He was the author of "Lands, Classical and Sacred," "Memorials of Hampden," and other interesting productions. In conjunction with Lady Nugent, he also brought out the popular "Legends of the Library at Lillies."

* * * * *

M. ALEXANDRE FRAGONARD, the eminent French painter and sculptor, died in October. He was a pupil of David. As a statuary, his great work is the frontispiece of the old Chamber of Deputies; and, as a painter, he executed several fine pieces, amongst others a ceiling of the Louvre, representing Tasso reading his "Jerusalem." His chief works were engraved in 1840.

* * * * *

M. JOSEPH DROZ, a member of the French Institute, died in Paris in November. The youth of M. Droz was devoted to stormier occupations than that in which he gathered the laurels now laid upon his grave. For three years he was a soldier:--for upwards of fifty he has been devoted to letters and to philosophy. His last escort was composed of the men who had been his comrades in that latter field,--and over his grave MM. Guizot and Bartholemy Saint-Hilaire, pronounced eulogies.

* * * * *

PROFESSOR SCHORN, died in Augsburgh on the 7th of October, at the premature age of forty-seven years. In the formation of the Munich Gallery, he was the most trusted and active emissary, and traversed considerable portions of Europe, including England and Italy, in search of those treasures which now enrich this famous gallery. When in London, his companion was Von Martins, the eminent Brazilian traveller and naturalist.

* * * * *

GUSTAVE SCHWAB, one of the most popular poets of Germany, died at Stuttgart on the 4th of November, aged fifty-eight. Schwab was the friend of Uhland. His death was very sudden. On the morning of the day on which he was summoned, he had entertained a party of his friends at breakfast, and read to them passages of a translation into German verse, which he was making of the poetical works of M. de Lamartine.

Spirit of the English Annuals.

NEW TALES BY THACKERAY, BULWER, MRS. HALL, &c.

The holiday souvenirs for the present season are less numerous in England, as in this country, than in some previous years; but the _Keepsake_, edited formerly by Lady Blessington, and now by her niece, Miss Power, is among the few favorite annuals that are continued, and it is as good as in its best days. We quote several of its chief attractions, and first

VOLTIGUER:

BY THE AUTHOR OF THE "HISTORY OF PENDENNIS."

There arose out of the last Epsom races a little family perplexity, whereon the owner of Voltiguer little speculated: and as out of this apparently trivial circumstance a profound and useful moral may be drawn, to be applied by the polite reader; and as Epsom Races will infallibly happen next year, and, I dare say, for many succeeding generations; perhaps the moral which this brief story points had better be printed upon Dorling's next "Correct Card," as a warning to future patrons and patronesses of the turf.

This moral, then--this text of our sermon, is, NEVER----but we will keep the moral, if you please, for the end of the fable.

It happened, then, that among the parties who were collected on the Hill to see the race, the carriage of a gentleman, whom we shall call Sir Joseph Raikes, occupied a commanding position, and attracted a great deal of attention amongst the gentlemen sportsmen. Those bucks upon the ground who were not acquainted with the fair occupant of that carriage--as indeed, how should many thousands of them be?--some being shabby bucks; some being vulgar bucks; some being hot and unpleasant bucks, smoking bad cigars, and only staring into Lady Raikes's carriage by that right which allows one Briton to look at another Briton, and a cat to look at a king;--of those bucks, I say, who, not knowing Lady Raikes, yet came and looked at her, there was scarce one that did not admire her, and envy the lucky rogue her husband. Of those ladies who, in their walks from their own vehicles, passed her ladyship's, there was scarce one lady in society who did not say, "is that all?--is that the beauty you are all talking about so much? She is overrated; she looks stupid; she is over-dressed; she squints;" and so forth; whilst of the men who _did_ happen to have the honor of an acquaintance with Lady Raikes and her husband (and many a man, who had thought Raikes rather stupid in his bachelor days, was glad enough to know him now), each as he came to the carriage, and partook of the excellent luncheon provided there, had the most fascinating grins and ogles for the lady, and the most triumphant glances for all the rest of the world,--glances which seemed to say, "Look, you rascals, I know Lady Raikes; you don't know Lady Raikes. I can drink a glass of champagne to Lady Raikes's health. What would you give, you dog, to have such a sweet smile from Lady Raikes? Did you ever see such eyes? did you ever see such a complexion? did you ever see such a killing pink dress, and such a dear little delightfully carved ivory parasol?"--Raikes had it carved for her last year at Baden, when they were on their wedding-trip. It has their coats of arms and their ciphers intertwined elegantly round the stalk--a J and a Z; her name is Zuleika; before she was married she was Zuleika Trotter. Her elder sister, Medora, married Lord T--mn--ddy; her younger, Haidee, is engaged to the eldest son of the second son of a noble D-ke. The Trotters are of a good family. Dolly Trotter, Zuleika's brother, was in the same regiment (and that, I need not say, an extremely heavy one) with Sir Joseph Raikes.

He did not call himself Joseph then: quite the contrary. Larkyn Raikes, before his marriage, was one of the wildest and most irregular of our British youth. Let us not allude--he would blush to hear them--to the particulars of his past career. He turned away his servant for screwing up one of the knockers which he had removed during the period of his own bachelorhood, from an eminent physician's house in Saville Row, on the housekeeper's door at Larkyn Hall. There are whole hampers of those knockers stowed away somewhere, and snuff-taking Highlanders, and tin hats, and black boys,--the trophies of his youth, which Raikes would like to send back to their owners, did he know them; and when he carried off these spoils of war he was not always likely to know. When he goes to the Bayonet and Anchor Club now (and he dined there twice during Lady Raikes's ... in fine, when there was no dinner at home), the butler brings him a half-pint of sherry and a large bottle of Seltzer water, and looks at him with a sigh, and wonders--"Is this Captain Raikes, as used to breakfast off pale hale at three, to take his regular two bottles at dinner, and to drink brandy and water in the smoking billiard-room all night till all was blue?" Yes, it is the same Raikes; Larkyn no more--riotous no more--brandivorous no longer. He gave away all his cigars at his marriage; quite unlike Screwby, who also married the other day, and offered to _sell_ me some. He has not betted at a race since his father paid his debts and forgave him, just before the old gentleman died and Raikes came into his kingdom. Upon that accession, Zuleika Trotter, who looked rather sweetly upon Bob Vincent before, was so much touched by Sir Joseph Raikes's determination to reform, that she dismissed Bob and became Lady Raikes.

Dolly Trotter still remains in the Paddington Dragoons; Dolly is still unmarried; Dolly smokes still; Dolly owes money still. And though his venerable father, Rear-admiral Sir Ajax Trotter, K.C.B., has paid his debts many times, and swears if he ever hears of Dolly betting again, he will disinherit his son, Dolly--the undutiful Dolly--goes on betting still.

Lady Raikes, then, beamed in the pride of her beauty upon Epsom race-course, dispensed smiles and luncheon to a host of acquaintances, and accepted, in return, all the homage and compliments which the young men paid her. The hearty and jovial Sir Joseph Raikes was not the least jealous of the admiration which his pretty wife caused; not even of Bob Vincent, whom he rather pitied for his mishap, poor fellow! (to be sure, Zuleika spoke of Vincent very scornfully, and treated his pretensions as absurd); and with whom, meeting him on the course, Raikes shook hands very cordially, and insisted upon bringing him up to Lady Raikes's carriage, to take refreshment.

There _could_ have been no foundation for the wicked rumor, that Zuleika had looked sweetly upon Vincent before Raikes had carried her off. Lady Raikes received Mr. Vincent with the kindest and frankest smile; shook hands with him with perfect politeness and indifference, and laughed and talked so easily with him, that it was impossible there could have been any previous discomfort between them.

Not very far off from Lady Raikes's carriage, on the hill, there stood a little black brougham--the quietest and most modest equipage in the world, and in which there must have been nevertheless something very attractive, for the young men crowded around this carriage in numbers; and especially that young reprobate Dolly Trotter was to be seen, constantly leaning his great elbows on the window, and poking his head into the carriage. Lady Raikes remarked that, among other gentlemen, her husband went up and spoke to the little carriage, and when he and Dolly came back to her, asked who was in the black brougham.

For some time Raikes could not understand which was the brougham she meant--there was so many broughams. "The black one with the red blinds was it? Oh, that--that was a very old friend--yes, old Lord Cripplegate, was in the brougham: he had the gout, and he couldn't walk."

As Raikes made this statement he blushed as red as a geranium; he looked at Dolly Trotter in an imploring manner, who looked at him, and who presently went away from his sister's carriage bursting with laughter. After making the above statement to his wife, Raikes was particularly polite and attentive to her, and did not leave her side; nor would he consent to her leaving the carriage. There were all sorts of vulgar people about: she would be jostled in the crowd: she could not bear the smell of the cigars--she knew she couldn't (this made Lady Raikes wince a little): the sticks might knock her darling head off; and so forth.

Raikes is a very accomplished and athletic man, and, as a bachelor, justly prided himself upon shying at the sticks better than any man in the army. Perhaps, as he passed the persons engaged in that fascinating sport, he would have himself liked to join in it; but he declined his favorite entertainment, and came back faithfully to the side of his wife.

As Vincent talked at Lady Raikes's side, he alluded to this accomplishment of her husband. "Your husband has not many accomplishments," Vincent said (he is a man of rather a sardonic humor), "but in shying at the sticks he is quite unequalled: he has quite a genius for it. He ought to have the sticks painted on his carriage, as the French marshals have their batons. Hasn't he brought you a pincushion or a jack-in-the-box, Lady Raikes? and has he begun to neglect you so soon? Every father with a little boy at home" (and he congratulated her ladyship on the birth of that son and heir) "ought surely to think of him, and bring him a soldier, or a monkey, or a toy or two."

"Oh, yes," cried Lady Raikes, "her husband must go. He must go and bring back a soldier, or a monkey, or a dear little jack-in-the-box, for dear little Dolly at home."

So away Raikes went; indeed nothing loth. He warmed with the noble sport: he was one of the finest players in England. He went on playing for a delightful half-hour; (how swiftly, in the blessed amusement, it passed away!) he reduced several of the sticksters to bankruptcy by his baculine skill; he returned to the carriage laden with jacks, wooden apples and soldiers, enough to amuse all the nurseries in Pimlico.

During his absence Lady Raikes, in the most winning manner, had asked Mr. Vincent for his arm, for a little walk; and did not notice the sneer with which he said that his arm had always been at her service. She was not jostled by the crowd inconveniently; she was not offended by the people smoking (though Raikes was forbidden that amusement); and she walked up on Mr. Vincent's arm, and somehow found herself close to the little black brougham, in which sat gouty old Lord Cripplegate.

Gouty old Lord Cripplegate wore a light blue silk dress, a lace mantle and other gimcracks, a white bonnet with roses, and ringlets as long as a chancellor's wig, but of the most beautiful black hue. His lordship had a pair of enormous eyes, that languished in a most killing manner; and cheeks that were decorated with delicate dimples; and lips of the color of the richest sealing-wax.

"Who's that?" asked Lady Raikes.

"That," said Mr. Vincent, "is Mrs. Somerset Montmorency."

"Who's Mrs. Somerset Montmorency?" hissed out Zuleika.

"It is possible you have not met her in society, Mrs. Somerset Montmorency doesn't go much into society," Mr. Vincent said.

"Why did he say it was Lord Cripplegate?"

Vincent, like a fiend, burst out laughing.

"Did Raikes say it was Lord Cripplegate? Well, he ought to know."

"What ought he to know?" asked Zuleika.

"Excuse me, Lady Raikes," said the other, with his constant sneer; "there are things which people had best not know. There are things which people had best forget, as your ladyship very well knows. You forget; why shouldn't Raikes forget? Let by-gones be by-gones. Let's all forget, Zulei--I beg your pardon. Here comes Raikes. How hot he looks! He has got a hat full of jack-in-the-boxes. How obedient he has been! He will not set the Thames on fire--but he's a good fellow. Yes; we'll forget all: won't we?" And the fiend pulled the tuft under his chin, and gave a diabolical grin with his sallow face.

Zuleika did not say one word about Lord Cripplegate when Raikes found her and flung his treasures into her lap. She did not show her anger in words, but in an ominous, boding silence; during which her eyes might be seen moving constantly to the little black brougham.

When the Derby was run, and Voltigeur was announced as the winner, Sir Joseph, who saw the race from the box of his carriage--having his arm around her ladyship, who stood on the back seat, and thought all men the greatest hypocrites in creation (and so a man _is_ the greatest hypocrite of all animals, save one)--Raikes jumped up and gave a "Hurrah!" which he suddenly checked when his wife asked, with a deathlike calmness, "And pray, sir, have you been betting upon the race, that you are so excited?"

"Oh no, my love; of course not. But you know it's a Yorkshire horse, and I--I'm glad it wins; that's all," Raikes said; in which statement there was not, I am sorry to say, a word of truth.

Raikes wasn't a betting man any more. He had forsworn it: he would never bet again. But he had just, in the course of the day, taken the odds in _one_ little bet; and he had just happened to win. When his wife charged him with the crime, he was about to avow it. "But no," he thought; "it will be a surprise for her. I will buy her the necklace she scolded me about at Lacy and Gimcrack's; it's just the sum. She has been sulky all day. It's about that she is sulky now. I'll go and have another shy at the sticks." And he went away, delighting himself with this notion, and with the idea that at last he could satisfy his adorable little Zuleika.

As Raikes passed Mrs. Somerset Montmorency's brougham, Zuleika remarked how that lady beckoned to him, and how Raikes went up to her. Though he did not remain by the carriage two minutes, Zuleika was ready to take an affidavit that he was there for half an hour; and was saluted by a satanical grin from Vincent, who by this time had returned to her carriage side, and was humming a French tune, which says that "_on revient toujours a ses premi-e-res amours, a se-es premieres amours_."

"What is that you are singing? How dare you sing that?" cried Lady Raikes, with tears.

"It's an old song--you used to sing it," said Mr. Vincent. "By the way, I congratulate you. Your husband has won six hundred pounds. I heard Betterton say so, who gave him the odds."

"He is a wretch! He gave me his word of honor that he didn't bet. He is a gambler--he'll ruin his child! He neglects his wife for that--that creature! He calls her Lord Crick--crick--ipplegate," sobbed her ladyship, "Why did I marry him?"

"Why, indeed!" said Mr. Vincent.

As the two were talking, Dolly Trotter, her ladyship's brother, came up to the carriage; at which, with a scowl on his wicked countenance, and indulging inwardly in language which I am very glad not to be called upon to report, Vincent retired, biting his nails, like a traitor, and exhibiting every sign of ill-humor which the villain of a novel or of a play is wont to betray.

"Don't have that fellow about you, Zuly," Dolly said to his darling sister. "He is a bad one. He's no principle: he--he's a gambler, and every thing that's bad."

"I know others who are gamblers," cried out Zuleika. "I know others who are every thing that's bad, Adolphus," Lady Raikes exclaimed.

"For heaven's sake, what do you mean?" said Adolphus, becoming red and looking very much frightened.

"I mean my husband," gasped the lady. "I shall go home to papa. I shall take my dear little blessed babe with me and go to papa, Adolphus. And if you had the spirit of a man, you would--you would avenge me, that you would."

"Against Joe!" said the heavy dragoon; "against Joe, Zuly? Why, hang me if Joe isn't the greatest twump in Chwistendom. By Jove he is!" said the big one, shaking his fist; "and if that scoundwel, Vincent, or any other wascal, has said a word against him, by Jove--"

"Pray stop your horrid oaths and vulgar threats, Adolphus," her ladyship said.

"I don't know what it is--you've got something against Joe. Something has put you against him; and if it's Vincent, I'll wring his--"

"Mercy! mercy! Pray cease this language." Lady Raikes said.

"You don't know what a good fellow Joe is," said the dragoon. "The best twump in England, as _I've_ weason to say, sister: and here he comes with the horses. God bless the old boy!"

With this, honest Sir Joseph Raikes took his seat in his carriage; and tried, by artless blandishments, by humility, and by simple conversation, to coax his wife into good humor; but all his efforts were unavailing. She would not speak a word during the journey to London; and when she reached home, rushed up to the nursery and instantly burst into tears upon the sleeping little Adolphus's pink and lace cradle.

"It's all about that necklace, Mrs. Prince," the good-natured Baronet explained to the nurse of the son and heir. "I know it's about the necklace. She rowed me about it all the way down to Epsom; and I can't give it her now, that's flat. I've _no_ money. I _won't_ go tick, that's flat; and she ought to be contented with what she has had; oughtn't she, Prince?"

"Indeed she ought, Sir Joseph; and you're an angel of a man, Sir Joseph; and so I often tell my lady, Sir Joseph," the nurse said: "and the more you will spile her, the more she will take on, Sir Joseph."

But if Lady Raikes was angry at not having the necklace, what must have been her ladyship's feelings when she saw in the box opposite to her at the Opera, Mrs. Somerset Montmorency, with that very necklace on her shoulders for which she had pined in vain! How she got it? Who gave it her? How she came by the money to buy such a trinket? How she dared to drive about at all in the Park, the audacious wretch! All these were questions which the infuriate Zuleika put to herself, her confidential maid, her child's nurse, and two or three of her particular friends; and of course she determined that there was but one clue to the mystery of the necklace, which was that her husband had purchased it with the six hundred pounds which he had won at the Derby, which he denied having won even to her, which he had spent in this shameful manner. Nothing would suit her but a return home to her papa--nothing would satisfy her but a separation from the criminal who had betrayed her. She wept floods of tears over her neglected boy, and repeatedly asked that as yet speechless innocent, whether he would remember his mother when her place was filled by another, and whether her little Adolphus would take care that no insult was offered to her untimely grave?