Chapter XIV (2)

He took her hand and clasped it tenderly, but the next moment he almost flung it from him, and had turned and quitted the room. Gina burst into a violent fit of weeping, and slowly retreated to seek the solitude of her chamber.

Scarcely had the echo of her footsteps died away in the gallery, when the door of a closet appertaining to the room was cautiously pushed open, and out stepped the Signora Lucrezia, her eyes and mouth wide open, and her hair standing on end.

"May all the saints reject me if ever I met with such a plot as this!" she ejaculated. "I knew there was something going on underneath, but the deuce himself would never have suspected this. So the innocent-faced madam has not been winding herself round the Lady Adelaide for nothing--the she-wolf in sheep's petticoats! Something was said, too, that I could not catch, about her irreligion. The hypocrite dare not go to confession, probably, and so keeps away. The letter of the wedding night is explained now, and that changing, as they both did, to the hue of a mort-cloth at sight of each other. May I die unabsolved if so sly a conspiracy ever came up. However, I shall not interfere yet awhile. Let my baby-mistress look out for herself: she has not pleased me of late, showering down marks of favor upon this false jade. _Her_ rival! if she did but know it! I'll keep my eyes and ears open. Two lovers cannot live for ever under the same roof without betraying their secret; and there will be an explosion some day, or my name is not Lucrezia Andrini."

From Household Words

A FASHIONABLE FORGER.

I am an attorney and a bill discounter. As it is my vocation to lend money at high interest to extravagant people, my connection principally lies among "fools," sometimes among rogues "of quality." Mine is a pursuit which a prejudiced world either holds in sovereign contempt, or visits with envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness; but to my mind, there are many callings, with finer names, that are no better. It gives me two things which I love--money and power; but I cannot deny that it brings with it a bad name. The case lies between character and money, and involves a matter of taste. Some people like character; I prefer money. If I am hated and despised, I chuckle over the "per contra." I find it pleasant for members of a proud aristocracy to condescend from their high estate to fawn, feign, flatter; to affect even mirthful familiarity in order to gain my good-will. I am no Shylock. No client can accuse me of desiring either his flesh or his blood. Sentimental vengeance is no item in my stock in trade. Gold and bank-notes satisfy my "rage;" or, if need be, a good mortgage. Far from seeking revenge, the worst defaulter I ever had dealings with cannot deny that I am always willing to accept a good post-obit.

I say again, I am daily brought in contact with all ranks of society, from the poverty-stricken patentee to the peer; and I am no more surprised at receiving an application from a duchess than from a pet opera-dancer. In my ante-room wait, at this moment, a crowd of borrowers. Among the men, beardless folly and mustachioed craft are most prominent: there is a handsome young fellow, with an elaborate cane and wonderfully vacant countenance, who is anticipating, in feeble follies, an estate that has been in the possession of his ancestors since the reign of Henry the Eighth. There is a hairy, high-nosed, broken-down nondescript, in appearance something between a horse-dealer and a pugilist. He is an old Etonian. Five years ago he drove his four-in-hand; he is now waiting to beg a sovereign, having been just discharged from the Insolvent Court, for the second time. Among the women, a pretty actress, who, a few years since, looked forward to a supper of steak and onions, with bottled stout, on a Saturday night, as a great treat, now finds one hundred pounds a month insufficient to pay her wine-merchant and her confectioner. I am obliged to deal with each case according to its peculiarities. Genuine undeserved Ruin seldom knocks at my door. Mine is a perpetual battle with people who imbibe trickery at the same rate as they dissolve their fortunes. I am a hard man, of course. I should not be fit for my pursuit if I were not; but when, by a remote chance, honest misfortune pays me a visit, as Rothschilds amused himself at times by giving a beggar a guinea, so I occasionally treat myself to the luxury of doing a kind action. My favorite subjects for this unnatural generosity, are the very young, or the poor, innocent, helpless people, who are unfit for the war of life. Many among my clients (especially those tempered in the "ice-book" of fashion and high-life--polished and passionless) would be too much for me, if I had not made the face, the eye, the accent, as much my study as the mere legal and financial points of discount. To show what I mean, I will relate what happened to me not long since:--

One day, a middle-aged man, in the usual costume of a West-End shopman, who had sent in his name as Mr. Axminster, was shown into my private room. After a little hesitation, he said, "Although you do not know me, living at this end of the town, I know you very well by reputation, and that you discount bills. I have a bill here which I want to get discounted. I am in the employ of Messrs. Russle and Smooth. The bill is drawn by one of our best customers, the Hon. Miss Snape, niece of Lord Blimley, and accepted by Major Munge; whom, no doubt, you know by name. She has dealt with us for some years, is very, very extravagant; but always pays." He put the acceptance--which was for two hundred pounds--into my hands.

I looked at it as scrutinizingly as I usually do at such paper. The Major's signature was familiar to me; but having succeeded to a great estate, he has long ceased to be a customer. I instantly detected a forgery; by whom? was the question. Could it be the man before me? experience told me it was not. Perhaps there was something in the expression of my countenance which Mr. Axminster did not like, for he said, "It is good for the amount, I presume?"

I replied, "Pray, sir, from whom did you get this bill?"

"From Miss Snape herself."

"Have you circulated any other bills made by the same drawer?"

"O yes!" said the draper, without hesitation; "I have paid away a bill for one hundred pounds to Mr. Sparkle, the jeweller, to whom Miss Snape owed twenty pounds. They gave me the difference."

"And how long has that bill to run now?"

"About a fortnight."

"Did you endorse it?"

"I did; Mr. Sparkle required me to do so, to show that the bill came properly into his possession."

"This second bill, you say, is urgently required to enable Miss Snape to leave town?"

"Yes; she is going to Brighton for the winter."

I gave Mr. Axminster a steady, piercing look of inquiry. "Pray, sir," I said, "could you meet that one hundred pounds bill, supposing it could not be paid by the acceptor?"

"Meet it?" The poor fellow wiped from his forehead the perspiration which suddenly broke out at the bare hint of a probability that the bill would be dishonored: "Meet it? O no! I am a married man, with a family, and have nothing but my salary to depend on."

"Then the sooner you get it taken up, and the less you have to do with Miss Snape's bill affairs, the better."

"She has always been punctual hitherto."

"That may be." I pointed to the cross-writing on the document, and said deliberately--"_This_ bill is a forgery!"

At these words the poor man turned pale. He snatched up the document; and, with many incoherent protestations, was rushing toward the door, when I called to him, in an authoritative tone, to stop. He paused. His manner indicating not only doubt, but fear. I said to him, "Don't flurry yourself; I only want to serve you. You tell me that you are a married man with children, dependent on daily labor for daily bread; and that you have done a little discounting for Miss Snape out of your earnings. Now, although I am a bill discounter, I don't like to see such men victimized. Look at the body of this bill: look at the signature of your lady customer, the drawer. Don't you detect the same fine, thin, sharp-pointed handwriting in the words, 'Accepted, Dymmock Munge.'" The man, convinced against his will, was at first overcome. When he recovered, he raved: he would expose the Honorable Miss Snape, if it cost him his bread: he would go at once to the police office. I stopped him, by saying roughly, "Don't be a fool. Any such steps would seal your ruin. Take my advice; return the bill to the lady, saying simply that you cannot get it discounted. Leave the rest to me, and I think the bill you have endorsed to Sparkle will be paid." Comforted by this assurance, Axminster, fearfully changed from the nervous, but smug hopeful man of the morning, departed. It now remained for me to exert what skill I own, to bring about the desired result. I lost no time in writing a letter to the Honorable Miss Snape, of which the following is a copy:

"Madam: A bill, purporting to be drawn by you, has been offered
to me for discount. There is something wrong about it; and,
though a stranger to you, I advise you to lose no time in
getting it back into your own hands.--D. D."

I intended to deal with the affair quietly, and without any view to profit. The fact is, that I was sorry--you may laugh--but I really _was_ sorry to think that a young girl might have given way to temptation under pressure of pecuniary difficulties. If it had been a man's case, I doubt whether I should have interfered. By the return of post, a lady's maid entered my room, profusely decorated with ringlets, lace, and perfumed with _patchouli._ She brought a letter from her mistress. It ran thus:

"_Sir_--I cannot sufficiently express my thanks for your
kindness in writing to me on the subject of the bills; of which
I had also heard a few hours previously. As a perfect
_stranger_ to you, I cannot estimate your kind consideration at
too high a value. I trust the matter will be explained; but I
should much like to see you. If you would be kind enough to
write a note as soon as you receive this, I will order it to be
sent to me at once to Tyburn Square. I will wait on you at any
hour on Friday you may appoint. I believe that I am not
mistaken in supposing that you transact business for my friend
Sir John Markham, and you will therefore know the inclosed to
be his handwriting. Again thanking you most gratefully, allow
me to remain your much and deeply obliged,

"JULIANA SNAPE."

This note was written upon delicate French paper, embossed with a coat of arms. It was in a fancy envelope: the whole richly perfumed, and redolent of rank and fashion. Its contents were an implied confession of forgery. Silence, or three lines of indignation, would have been the only innocent answer to my letter. But Miss Snape thanked me. She let me know, by implication, that she was on intimate terms with a name good on a Westend bill. My answer was, that I should be alone on the following afternoon at five.

At the hour fixed, punctual to a moment, a brougham drew up at the corner of the street next to my chambers. The Honorable Miss Snape's card was handed in. Presently, she entered, swimming into my room, richly yet simply dressed in the extreme of Parisian good taste. She was pale--or rather colorless. She had fair hair, fine teeth, and a fashionable voice. She threw herself gracefully into the chair I handed to her, and began by uncoiling a string of phrases, to the effect that her visit was merely to consult me on "unavoidable pecuniary difficulties."

According to my mode, I allowed her to talk; putting in only an occasional word of question, that seemed rather a random observation than a significant query. At length, after walking round and round the subject, like a timid horse in a field, around a groom with a sieve of oats, she came nearer and nearer the subject. When she had fairly approached the point, she stopped, as if her courage had failed her. But she soon recovered, and observed: "I cannot think why you should take the trouble to write so to me, a perfect stranger." Another pause--"I wonder no one ever suspected me before."

Here was a confession and a key to character. The cold gray eye, the thin compressed lips, winch I had had time to observe, were true indexes to the "lady's inner heart:"--selfish, calculating, utterly devoid of conscience; unable to conceive the existence of spontaneous kindness; utterly indifferent to any thing except discovery; and almost indifferent to that, because convinced that no serious consequences could affect a lady of her rank and influence.

"Madam," I replied, "as long as you dealt with tradesmen accustomed to depend on aristocratic customers, your rank and position, and their large profits, protected you from suspicion; but you have made a mistake in descending from your vantage ground to make a poor shopman your innocent accomplice--a man who will be keenly alive to any thing that may injure his wife or children. His terrors--but for my interposition--would have ruined you utterly. Tell me, how many of these things have you put afloat?"

She seemed a little taken aback by this speech, but was wonderfully firm. She passed her white, jewelled hand over her eyes, seemed calculating, and then whispered, with a confiding look of innocent helplessness, admirably assumed, "About as many as amount to twelve hundred pounds."

"And what means have you for meeting them?"

At this question, so plainly put, her face flushed. She half rose from her chair, and exclaimed, in the true tone of aristocratic _hauteur_--"Really, sir, I do not know what right you have to ask me that question."

I laughed a little, though not very loud. It was rude, I own; but who could have helped it? I replied, speaking low; but slowly and distinctly:--"You forget. I did not send for you: you came to me. You have forged bills to the amount of twelve hundred pounds. Yours is not the case of a ruined merchant, or an ignorant over-tempted clerk. In your case a jury" (she shuddered at that word) "would find no extenuating circumstances; and if you should fall into the hands of justice, you will be convicted, degraded, clothed in a prison dress, and transported for life. I do not want to speak harshly; but I insist that you find means to take up the bill which Mr. Axminster has so unwittingly endorsed!"

The Honorable Miss Snape's grand manner melted away. She wept. She seized and pressed my hand. She cast up her eyes, full of tears, and went through the part of a repentant victim with great fervor. She would do any thing; any thing in the world to save the poor man. Indeed, she had intended to appropriate part of the two hundred pound bill to that purpose. She forgot her first statement, that she wanted the money to go out of town. Without interrupting, I let her go on and degrade herself by a simulated passion of repentance, regret, and thankfulness to me, under which she hid her fear and her mortification at being detected. I at length put an end to a scene of admirable acting, by recommending her to go abroad immediately, to place herself out of reach of any sudden discovery; and then lay her case fully before her friends, who would, no doubt, feel bound to come forward with the full amount of the forged bills. "But," she exclaimed, with an entreating air, "I have no money; I cannot go without money!" To that observation I did not respond; although I am sure she expected that I should, check-book in hand, offer her a loan. I do not say so without reason; for, the very next week, this honorable young lady came again; and, with sublime assurance and a number of very charming, winning speeches (which might have had their effect upon a younger man), asked me to lend her one hundred pounds, in order that she might take the advice I had so obligingly given her, and retire into private life for a certain time in the country. I do meet with a great many impudent people in the course of my calling--I am not very deficient in assurance myself--but this actually took away my breath.

"Really, madam," I answered, "you pay a very ill compliment to my gray hairs; and would fain make me a very ill return for the service I have done you, when you ask me to lend a hundred pounds to a young lady who owns to having forged to the extent of one thousand two hundred pounds, and to owing eight hundred pounds besides. I wished to save a personage of your years and position from a disgraceful career; but I am too good a trustee for my children to lend money to any body in such a dangerous position as yourself."

"Oh!" she answered, quite unabashed, without a trace of the fearful, tender pleading of the previous week's interview--quite as if I had been an accomplice, "I can give you excellent security."

"That alters the case; I can lend any amount on good security."

"Well, sir, I can get the acceptance of three friends of ample means."

"Do you mean to tell me, Miss Snape, that you will write down the names of three parties who will accept a bill for one hundred pounds for you?"

Yes, she could, and did actually write down the names of three distinguished men. Now I knew for certain, that not one of those noblemen would have put his name to a bill on any account whatever for his dearest friend; but, in her unabashed self-confidence, she thought of passing another forgery _on me_. I closed the conference by saying "I cannot assist you;" and she retired with the air of an injured person. In the course of a few days, I heard from Mr. Axminster, that his liability of one hundred pounds had been duly honored.

In my active and exciting life, one day extinguishes the recollection of the events of the preceding day; and, for a time, I thought no more about the fashionable forger. I had taken it for granted that, heartily frightened, although not repenting, she had paused in her felonious pursuits.

My business, one day, led me to the establishment of one of the most wealthy and respectable legal firms in the city, where I am well known, and, I believe, valued; for at all times I am most politely, I may say most cordially, received. Mutual profits create a wonderful freemasonry between those who have not any other sympathy or sentiment. Politics, religion, morality, difference of rank, are all equalized and republicanized by the division of an account. No sooner had I entered the _sanctum_, than the senior partner, Mr. Precepts, began to quiz his junior, Mr. Jones, with "Well, Jones must never joke friend Discount any more about usury. Just imagine," he continued, addressing me, "Jones has himself been discounting a bill for a lady; and a deuced pretty one too. He sat next her at dinner in Grosvenor Square last week. Next day she gave him a call here, and he could not refuse her extraordinary request. Gad, it is hardly fair for Jones to be poaching on your domains of West-end paper!"

Mr. Jones smiled quietly, as he observed,

"Why, you see, she is the niece of one of our best clients; and, really, I was so taken by surprise, that I did not know how to refuse."

"Pray," said I, interrupting his excuses, "does your young lady's name begin with S.? Has she not a very pale face, and cold gray eye?"

The partners stared.

"Ah! I see it is so; and can at once tell you that the bill is not worth a rush."

"Why, you don't mean--?"

"I mean simply that the acceptance is, I'll lay you a wager, a forgery."

"A forgery!"

"A forgery," I repeated as distinctly as possible.

Mr. Jones hastily, and with broken ejaculations, called for the cash-box. With trembling hands he took out the bill, and followed my finger with eager, watchful eyes, as I pointed out the proofs of my assertion. A long pause was broken by my mocking laugh; for, at the moment, my sense of politeness could not restrain my satisfaction at the signal defeat which had attended the first experiment of these highly respectable gentlemen in the science of usury.

The partners did not have recourse to the police. They did not propose a consultation with either Mr. Forrester or Mr. Field; but they took certain steps, under my recommendation; the result of which was that at an early day, an aunt of the Honorable Miss Snape was driven, to save so near a connection from transportation, to sell out some fourteen hundred pounds of stock, and all the forgeries were taken up.

One would have thought that the lady who had thus so narrowly escaped, had had enough; but forgery, like opium-eating, is one of those charming vices which is never abandoned, when once adopted. The forger enjoys not only the pleasure of obtaining money so easily, but the triumph of befooling sharp men of the world. Dexterous penmanship is a source of the same sort of pride as that which animates the skilful rifleman, the practised duellist, or well-trained billiard-player. With a clean Gillott he fetches down a capitalist, at three or six months, for a cool hundred or a round thousand; just as a Scrope drops over a stag at ten, or a Gordon Cumming a monstrous male elephant at a hundred paces.

As I before observed, my connection, especially lies among the improvident--among those who will be ruined--who are being ruined--and who have been ruined. To the last class belongs Francis Fisherton, once a gentleman, now without a shilling or a principle; but rich in mother wit--in fact a _farceur_, after Paul de Kock's own heart. Having in bygone days been one of my willing victims, he occasionally finds pleasure and profit in guiding others through the gate he frequented, as long as able to pay the tolls. In truth, he is what is called a "discount agent."

One day I received a note from him, to say that he would call on me at three o'clock the next day, to introduce a lady of family, who wanted a bill "done" for one hundred pounds. So ordinary a transaction merely needed a memorandum in my diary, "Tuesday, 3 P.M.; F.F., 100_l._ Bill." The hour came and passed; but no Frank, which was strange--because every one must have observed, that, however dilatory people are in paying, they are wonderfully punctual when they expect to receive money.

At five o'clock, in rushed my Jackall. His story, disentangled from oaths and ejaculations, amounted to this:--In answer to one of the advertisements he occasionally addresses "To the Embarrassed," in the columns of the "Times," he received a note from a lady, who said she was anxious to get a "bill done"--the acceptance of a well-known man of rank and fashion. A correspondence was opened and an appointment made. At the hour fixed, neatly shaved, brushed, gloved, booted,--the revival, in short, of that high-bred Frank Fisherton, who was so famous

"In his hot youth, when Crockford's was the thing,"

glowing with only one glass of brandy "just to steady his nerves," he met the lady at a West-end pastry-cook's.

After a few words (for all the material questions had been settled by correspondence) she stepped into her brougham, and invited Frank to take a seat beside her. Elated with a compliment of late years so rare, he commenced planning the orgies which were to reward him for weeks of enforced fasting, when the coachman, reverentially touching his hat, looked down from his seat for orders.

"To ninety-nine, George street, St. James," cried Fisherton, in his loudest tones.

In an instant, the young lady's pale face changed to scarlet, and then to ghastly green. In a whisper, rising to a scream, she exclaimed, "Good heavens! you do not mean to _that_ man's house" (meaning me). "Indeed, I cannot go to him, on any account; he is a most horrid man, I am told, and charges most extravagantly."

"Madam," answered Frank, in great perturbation, "I beg your pardon, but you have been grossly misinformed. I have known that excellent man these twenty years, and have paid him hundreds on hundreds; but never so much by ten per cent, as you offered me for discounting your bill."

"Sir, I cannot have any thing to do with your friend." Then, violently pulling the check-string, "Stop" she gasped; "and _will you_ have the goodness to get out?"

"And so I got out," continued Fisherton, "and lost my time; and the heavy investment I made in getting myself up for the assignation; new primrose gloves, and a shilling to the hair-dresser--hang her! But, did you ever know any thing like the prejudices that must prevail against you? I am disgusted with human nature. Could you lend me half a sovereign till Saturday?"

I smiled; I sacrificed the half sovereign, and let him go, for he is not exactly the person to whom it was advisable to intrust all the secrets relating to the Honorable Miss Snape. Since that day I look each morning in the police reports, with considerable interest; but, up to the present hour, the Honorable Miss Snape has lived and thrived in the best Society.

From the Boston Atlas.

FRANCIS PULSZKY.

Francis Pulszky, de Lubocz and Cselfalva, was born in 1814, at Eperies, in the county of Sáros. He is of an ancient and distinguished Protestant family. His father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, all held the office of Inspector of the Protestant College at Eperies; an office to which Mr. Pulszky was himself appointed in 1840. His grandfather on the mother's side was Fejèrváry, the Hungarian archæologist, whose valuable collection has been incorporated with the National Library at Pesth. After completing his college education, Mr. Pulszky visited Italy. While in Rome he was made Fellow of the Archæological Institute of that city. In 1834 he returned to his country, and attended the sittings of the Diet, at Presburg, as Jurat. In 1835 he established, in conjunction with Vukovics and Lovassy, the Debating Club which afterwards became the object of the persecution of the Austrian Government. He formed, at this time, a friendship with Kolcsey, the poet, with Deák, the celebrated jurist, and with Kossuth.

In 1836, Mr. Pulszky once more quitted Hungary to travel through Germany, France and England, in order to enlarge his experience by observation of the manners and institutions of foreign countries, and thus qualify himself to render more effectual service to his own. On his return in 1837, he published an account of England, written in German, which gained him a wide reputation. Soon after his return he was elected a Fellow of the Hungarian Academy. During his absence from Hungary his friend Lovassy, a young man highly distinguished for his brilliant genius, and for the nobleness of his character, together with some other members of the Debating Club, were subjected by the Austrian Government to an imprisonment, under the rigors of which the intellect of Lovassy was completely shattered. His release found him in a state bordering on idiocy, in which he has ever since continued.

In 1839, Mr. Pulszky was sent as deputy to the Diet from his native county of Sáros. In this Diet, the framing of a commercial code was proposed. Mr. Pulszky was on the Committee appointed to consider this subject. He was likewise a member of the Committee appointed for the codification of the criminal law. After the close of the Diet, Mr. Pulszky repaired to Heidelberg, to study more fully the subject of the criminal law with the celebrated Mittermaier. The committee intrusted with the work of the codification of the criminal law of Hungary, closed its labors in 1843. Mr. Pulszky did not offer himself as a candidate for re-election to the Diet. In Hungary, the deputies to the Diet are obliged to vote in conformity with the instructions of their constituents. The county of Sáros, which Mr. Pulszky had represented, was a conservative county; and as his principles allied him with the liberal party, he thus often found himself placed in a false position. He therefore devoted himself to serving the cause of reform in Hungary, by his pen. He wrote constantly for the _Pesti Hirlap_, the journal edited by Kossuth. The character of this journal, and the objects of its editor, are thus described by Szilagyi, a political opponent, in a work published at Pesth in 1850; "In 1841 a strange thing happened. He [Kossuth] who had been imprisoned for editing a journal, came out on the 1st of January of that year as editor of the _Pesti Hirlap_. The first number of this paper betrayed that it was the organ of the Opposition, and in a short time it had obtained a reputation which could hardly have been expected. In reality Kossuth conducted the editorship with much ability. His leading articles, the stereotyped publications of the wishes of his heart, scourged the abuses which existed in the counties and in the cities. The aim of these articles was to raise the importance of the burgher class, to overthrow the privileges of the nobility--in a word, _first_, Reform, _secondly_ Reform--a hundred times, Reform."

In 1848, after the Revolutions of Paris and Vienna, while the ministerial question yet remained to be settled in Hungary, Mr. Pulszky was sent to Pesth, together with Klauzal and Szemere, by the Archduke Stephen, the Palatine of Hungary, to take suitable measures for the maintenance of order. Some disturbances having broken out at Stuhlweissenburg, Mr. Pulszky went thither to quell them. He was recommended to take a military force with him, but he refused, confiding in the power of reason and eloquence. The result showed that he was not mistaken. He addressed the people with energy, and the disturbances were appeased without the necessity of a resort to force. In May, 1848, Mr. Pulszky was appointed Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs in Vienna. On the 5th of October of the same year, when the Austrian government no longer felt it necessary to observe any appearances in regard to Hungary; and when war had been virtually declared against that country by the Imperial proclamation of Oct. 3rd, which appointed Jellachich Royal Commissary in Hungary, with full powers civil and military, Mr. Pulszky was dismissed from his office.

Mr. Pulszky was with Kossuth at the battle of Schwechat, where he acted as aid to the Hungarian commander, General Moga. He returned with Kossuth to Pesth, where he was appointed a member of the Committee of Defence, and was made Minister of Commerce. In December, 1848, he was sent as accredited Envoy to England, to advocate the interests of Hungary in that country. Speaking of his appointment to this office, Schlesinger, the able and impartial historian of the Hungarian War, says: "Kossuth could not have found a more active, able, and competent man in Hungary for the post. All that a man could do Pulszky did. Pulszky possesses the acuteness of a civilian, a penetrating intellect, readiness of conception, inexhaustible powers of invention, and withal, indefatigable activity, great knowledge of business, and a healthy and sober spirit, which is not easily carried away by sanguine hopes." After a perilous journey through Gallicia, Mr. Pulszky reached France, spent a short time in Paris, and arrived in England early in March, 1849, where he has since remained until the time of his embarkation for the United States. During his residence in England, Mr. Pulszky has served the cause of his country with equal zeal and ability. His character and his talents have obtained for him a great influence there. He enjoys the personal friendship of many of the most eminent men of England; and it is in a great degree to be ascribed to his exertions, that the merits of the Hungarian cause are so well apprehended by a large portion of the British public.

Of the literary labors of Mr. Pulszky and of his wife, who accompanies him in this country, the Transcript gives the following account, which, though incomplete, is sufficiently accurate, so far as it goes: "Mr. Pulszky is distinguished not only as a statesman and a diplomatist, but as an author. Early in life he acquired a high reputation in his own country, and in Germany, by various political, archæological and philological writings. He wrote in German in a singularly pure and forcible style. For the last two or three years he has resided in London, where he has published several works in English, written in good style, and exhibiting a rare combination of practical intellect and creative imagination." He is a novelist as well as the historian and vindicator of his country. The most elaborate production of his pen, in English, is a novel in two volumes, 'The Jacobins in Hungary,' published last spring. The London Examiner concludes its notice of this work, by saying, "In a word, 'The Jacobins in Hungary' is a remarkably well told tale, which will please all readers by the skill and pathos of its narrative, and surprise many by its fairness and impartiality of tone to opinions as well as men. But the majority of intelligent Englishmen have not now to learn, that the closest parallel for a Hungarian rebel of the nineteenth century, would be an English rebel of the seventeenth; and they will not feel or express astonishment that what falls from Mr. Pulszky on any question of society or government, might with equal propriety for its sobriety and moderation of tone, have fallen from Lord Somers or Mr. Pym."

The English translation of _Schlesinger's War in Hungary_ was edited by Mr. Pulszky, who prefaced it with a long and well-written historical introduction, and added to it a masterly sketch of the life and character of Görgey, who had been his school-fellow, and with whose whole career he was intimately acquainted. The estate of the Görgey family was in fact situated at no great distance from that of Mr. Pulszky, who was also an intimate friend of the traitor's brother.

To the "_Memoirs of a Hungarian Lady_" by Theresa Pulszky, his wife, Mr. Pulszky prefixed a most valuable Introduction, containing the best history of Hungary which we have yet seen in English. It is a clear and concise sketch of the annals of the nation, from the earliest period to the year 1848, occupying about 100 pages of the American edition of the Memoirs. Madame Pulszky, the heroine and author of these interesting memoirs, is, we believe, a native of Vienna, where, in 1845, she was married to Mr. Pulszky. She was residing on their estates in Hungary, about 60 miles from Pesth, when the war broke out; and the _Memoirs_ are principally devoted to a narrative of her sufferings and adventures in that exciting and perilous time. They contain, besides, many graphic descriptions of life and manners in Hungary, and a good historical narrative of the Revolution and the war.

Besides the _Memoirs_, Madame Pulszky has published in English, a volume of _Tales and Traditions of Hungary_, which we have not seen, but of which highly favorable notices have appeared in the Examiner and other English journals. She is not only a brilliant and powerful writer, but a most lovely and accomplished lady, as we learn from very reliable sources in Europe. Her talents and acquirements are said to be quite extraordinary. In England her husband and herself enjoyed the highest consideration, both in point of character and ability.

It may be remarked, in addition to this, that the _Memoirs of a Hungarian Lady_ (Lea & Blanchard, Philadelphia, 1850) give a full account of Mr. Pulszky's career during the war and the revolution, and in chapters II. and III. a minute and most interesting sketch of his estates and tenantry. His novel, the _Jacobins in Hungary_, is understood to be written with constant reference to the recent history of his country, though the events on which it is founded occurred sixty years ago.

Authors and Books.

Henry Heine's long-promised _Romanzero_ has at last appeared in Germany, where the first edition has been greedily snapped up. It is a collection of poems of various name and nature, all after the true Heinian vein. The great curiosity of the book is the preface in which the "dying Aristophanes" discourses on his alleged conversion to religion, in a strain which settles the question, so much discussed for the past two or three years, whether such a conversion has actually taken place or not. He declares that he has "returned to God, like the profligate son, after having long kept swine among the Hegelians. Was it suffering that drove me back? Perhaps a less miserable reason. The celestial home-sickness came over me, and urged me forth through woods and ravines, over the dizziest mountain paths of dialectics. On my way I found the God of the Pantheists, but could not use him." Afterwards he says, that while in politics his views have not changed, in theology he has gone back to belief in a personal divinity. But he denies the report that he has joined any church. "No," he says, "my religions convictions and views remain free from all ecclesiasticism; no bell-ring has seduced me, no altar-candle blinded me. I have played with no symbols, nor altogether renounced my reason. I have sworn off from nothing, not even my old heathen gods, from whom I have indeed parted, but in all love and friendship. It was in May, 1848, the day when I last went out, that I took leave of the gracious idols I had worshipped in the days of my happiness. It was with difficulty that I dragged myself to the Louvre, and I almost fainted as I entered the lofty hall where the blessed goddess of beauty, our dear Lady of Milo, stands on her pedestal. I lay long at her feet, and wept so vehemently that a stone must have been filled with pity. The goddess, too, looked down piteously, as if to say, 'Seest thou not that I have no arms, and cannot help thee?'" It seems evident from this, that whatever change has happened in Heine's notions, there is no vital piety in his heart, but he is the same heathen as ever. The _Romanzero_ is divided into three parts--Histories, Lamentations, and Hebrew Melodies. The former are like the ballads he has before published, except that many of them go farther in the way of indecency, while many others are charming conceits, which are sure of long popularity. The Lamentations are more expressive of the personal state of mind and experience of the author. The Hebrew Melodies are the best of all, and betray a profound affection for the Jewish race and history, which he vainly seeks to hide with sneering and scoffs, and which proclaims him a genuine son of Abraham as well as of the nineteenth century. For the rest, the reader of this book will be reminded of the sharp saying of Gutzkow about Heine: "He is a writer who tries to disguise spoiled meat with a _sauce piquante_." Heine has also published "_Doctor Faust_, a Dance Poem, with curious information about the Devil, Witches and Poetic Art." This is intended to serve as the ground-work of a ballet and presents the great problems of existence in the form of a jest and a paradox. It was written for Lumley, the London manager, but his ballet-master declared the performance of it impossible.

* * * * *

The _Grenzboten_ contains a paper on German _Romanticism_, by Dr. JULIAN SCHMIDT, written for the purpose of defeating the last attempts which the romantic school of German writers is making to regain its former ascendency. Baron Eichendorff, almost the last of the old school, has lately brought out a pamphlet for that purpose. It has found a full contradiction in Dr. Schmidt's essay, one which will doubtless be satisfactory to all but the Baron himself.

* * * * *

We cannot too much commend a metrical German translation of the heroic Sagas (_Heldensagen_) of Firdusi, the chief of Persian poets. It is due to the learning and taste, we might even say the genius, of HERR VON SCHOCK, and has lately been published at Berlin. Those who recollect the delicious illustrations which our Emerson has dug out of this old mine of Persian poetry, to adorn some of his more recent lectures with, can need no additional inducement to seek the acquaintance of this book. It contains ten distinct _sagas_, with an introduction by the translator.

* * * * *

A work bearing a somewhat attractive title has recently been published for FRED BURAU, by Brockhaus, of Leipzig, entitled _The Secret History of Enigmatic Men, a Collection of Forgotten Notabilities._ Among the "odd ones" cited, are the Countess of Rochlitz, Dankelmann and Wartenberg, natural children of the last Stuarts, and of Danish Kings, Count Lewenhaupt, Lord Peterborough, the Duke of Ormond, Frederic Augustus the First, John Lilburne, W. Ludwig Weckerlin, and various other characters, too numerous to mention. We noticed this work while it was in course of preparation last year.

* * * * *

A singular historical concert was given at Dresden, in November. It was made up of works of distinguished Electoral and Royal Saxon _Capellmeisters_, in chronological order. First appeared John Walther, the friend of Luther, and the original master of Protestant Church music. Next, Heinrich Schutz, the author of the first German opera. The Italians, Lotti and Porpora, and Hasse (who composed in Italian style), represented the golden period of the Electoral Court in the past half of the eighteenth century. Naumann marked the transition to modern German music, while the most recent schools were represented by Morlacchi, Reissiger, Weber, and Richard Wagner.

* * * * *

The Michaelmas Fair of this year at Leipzig, is, according to its catalogue, as rich as ever in literary wares. From the Spring Fair up to September 30, there appeared in Germany 3,860 new books, and 1,130 more are now in press. Of those published, 106 were on Protestant, and 62 on Catholic theology; 36 on philosophy; 205, history and biography; 102 on linguistic subjects; 194, natural sciences; 168, military sciences; 83, commerce and industry; 87, agriculture and the management of forests; 69, public instruction; 92, classical philology; 80, living languages; 64, theory of music and the arts of design; 168, fine arts in general; 48, books for the people; 28, scientific miscellanies; bibliography, 18.

* * * * *

A History of Music in Italy, Germany, and France, from the beginning of Christianity to the present day, has been published in Germany, from the pen of PHILIP BRENDEL. It is not to be commended. It is not a real history, such as indeed is greatly to be desired, but a collection of sentimentalities and fancies, For instance, in speaking of Beethoven, the author compares him with Schiller in respect to the substance of his works, but says that in respect to his artistic form, he far excels that poet, and even rises to the level of Jean Paul. This may do for transcendental young people, but it is nonsense to all who like common sense and real information.

* * * * *

About a year since, a society was formed in Germany for the publication of the works of BACH, the great composer for the organ. Three hundred and fifty subscribers were obtained, each paying five Prussian Thalers ($3.50), a-year, for which he receives a copy of the issues of the society. They are not sold to music dealers, and are not intended for the general market. Of the subscribers, six are in Paris, twenty-three in London, ten in Russia, thirteen in Austria, but we see none from the United States. The first publication was to appear in December. It will contain ten cantatas not before published.

* * * * *

On the death of the great philologist LACHMANN JACOB GRIMM, for many years his co-laborer and friend, was appointed to deliver an oration before the Academy of Sciences in Berlin, which was done on the 3d of July last. This speech, recently published, is said to be highly interesting, as giving the characteristics of both the eulogist and the deceased, each of them men whose names will henceforth be inseparably allied in the history of German learning.

A biography of LACHMANN has been published at Berlin; it is by William Hertz, and will interest those who care to look at the quiet but most industrious life of a great scholar.

* * * * *

A Sketch of _Jona. Edwards and his Works_, has been published in German at Leipsig.

DR. ANDREE, whose work on America we lately noticed, has commenced at Bremen a periodical called _Das Westland_, devoted exclusively to the diffusion of information respecting the new world. The idea is an excellent one, especially in view of the great numbers of Germans who are already established on this side the Atlantic, and the still greater numbers that desire to come here. No man in Europe is so well fitted as Dr. Andree to conduct such a work. The first number, which we have received, contains articles on the Lopez Expedition, the Southern States of the American Union in their relation to the North, Traditions of the North American Indians, the navigation of the La Plata system of Rivers, the Welland Canal, &c. Sold in New-York by Westerman Brothers, 240 Broadway.

* * * * *

The _Gotha Almanac_ is an indispensable book for those who follow the history and look after the statistics of the royal families and governments of Europe. It contains perfect genealogical lists of the former, and tables of the diplomatic corps, the debt, the revenues, the expenses, the commercial system, the military and naval forces, the population, ecclesiastical organization, &c., of the latter. In no other manual is so much information of the sort condensed into so brief and convenient a form. The governments and statistics of the new world are also included. The portraits given for 1852, are Prince Adalbert of Prussia, Crown Prince Charles of Sweden, Count Leo Thun, Lord Palmerston, Prince Wolkonski, and Cardinal Schwarzenberg. This is the eighty-ninth year of the publication.

* * * * *

One of the best evidences of the value of Humboldt's _Kosmos_, is the vast number of popular treatises on various branches of science to which it has given rise in Germany, and which must exert a powerful influence in the formation of the growing age. A more solid and extensive undertaking is an _Atlas_ intended to illustrate the entire original work. It is by TRAUGOTT BROUVE, and will contain forty-two plates with explanatory text. The cost will be $4,50 in Germany. The first part has appeared at Stuttgardt, and is praised as worthy of the great work it illustrates.

* * * * *

Of AUERBACH's _Dorfgeschichten_ (Village Stories), 25,000 copies have been sold in Germany. He has just published a three-volume novel called _Neues Leben_ (New Life).

* * * * *

A new religious and philosophical novel is _Das Pfarrhaus zu Hallungen_ (The Parsonage at Hallungen), by LUDWIG STORCH. It is said to be full of exciting interest, but we confess that we have not read it, and do not mean to. Our taste is for novels of less elaborate purpose.

* * * * *

We give our tribute of commendation to the _Haus-Chronik_ (House Chronicles), which CASPAR BRAUN and FREDERICK SCHNEIDER are now publishing at Munich. These gentlemen are well known to all readers of that excellent comic paper, the _Fliegende Blätter_, and here appeal to all who can enjoy humor and have a taste for studies in the history of German life in the middle ages.

* * * * *

MUGGE, whose romance on _Toussaint L'Ouverture_ was translated by the Rev. Dr. Furness, of Philadelphia, has published at Leipzig the third volume of his annual _Vielliebchen_ (My Darling). It contains two tales and several poems, and is illustrated with seven steel engravings. It is worthy of notice that this word _Vielliebchen_ is the original of our mysterious _Filopine_.

* * * * *

M. PULSZKY, who is now in this country in the suite of KOSSUTH, has just published a historical romance at Berlin called _Die Jakobiner in Ungarn_ (The Jacobines in Hungary). It is in two volumes, and meets a favorable reception from the critics, and we doubt not, from the public also. It fared equally well when it was published in English at London some time since.

* * * * *

The _Middle Kingdom_, of our countryman, Mr. S. WELLS WILLIAMS, is the subject of a most favorable notice in the Augsburg _Allgemeine Zeitung_. Of this careful and very comprehensive work--the most elaborate and reliable that has ever appeared in the English language respecting China and the Chinese--Mr. Wiley has just published a new edition.

* * * * *

The public are solemnly warned in a number of the Leipzig _Central Blatt_, against a lately published work, entitled _Tabula Geographica Italiæ Antiquæ_, as swarming with errors. Divers towns are cited therein, at different times under different names, and as standing in different places, while the names themselves are declared to be sadly corrupted.

* * * * *

PROF. NEUMANN, of Munich, will publish in the course of a year, a _History of the British Empire in India_, on which he has been long engaged. It will be as thorough and able as it is impartial, and in Germany is expected with great interest. The author proposes also to write the History of Russian domination in Asia.

* * * * *

In noticing the poems lately published by GOETHE's nephew (mentioned in the last _International_), a German reviewer remarks, that the reverence which he (the reviewer), bears for the name of the uncle, "forbids any illusion to the book in question."

* * * * *

ADOLF STAHR is publishing at Berlin a second edition of his _History of the Russian Revolution_; it is dedicated to Macauley.

* * * * *

The celebrated Countess IDA HAHN-HAHN who was formerly as thorough an infidel as any member of the Worcester Women's Rights Convention, and as indecently licentious in her novels as the author of _Alban_, is thus described in a late number of the _Weser Zeitung_:

"Daily, about noon, the loungers under the Linden at Berlin are
startled by the extraordinary appearance of a tall, lanky
woman, whose thin limbs are wrapped up in a long black robe of
coarse cloth. An old crumpled bonnet covers her head, which
continually moving turns restlessly in all directions. Her
hollow cheeks are flushed with a morbid coppery glow; one of
her eyes is immovable, for it is of glass, but her other eye
shines with a feverish brilliancy, and a strange and almost
awful smile hovers constantly about her thin lips. This woman
moves with an unsteady quick step, and whenever her black
mantilla is flung back by the violence of her movements, a
small rope of hair with a crucifix at the end is plainly seen
to bind her waist. This ungainly woman is the _quondam_
authoress, Countess Ida Hahn-Hahn, who has turned a Catholic,
and is now preparing for a pilgrimage to Rome to crave the
Pope's absolution for her literary trespasses."

* * * * *

PRINCE WINDISCHGRATZ has issued his long promised narrative of the Hungarian winter campaign in 1848-49. In the preface, he says he has been induced to depart from a resolution not to publish until a much later period, by numerous calumnies and misrepresentations which have been circulated. The book is dedicated to the army.

* * * * *

MENZEL, whose work on German Literature had the honor of appearing in Ripley's excellent series of foreign books, published at Boston some ten years since, has just published a novel at Leipzig, with the title of _Farore_. It is the history of a monk and a nun during the thirty years war.

* * * * *

FREDERIKA BREMER has in press a book upon the World's Fair. It is announced in Germany, but we presume will appear at the same time in England. Whether it will be historical, philosophical, sentimental, or mystical, we are not informed, but suppose it will have a touch of all these qualities.

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